Chapter 5
After Lady Mare, Leto entered.
He wore a blue uniform adorned with silver epaulets. He looked unusually cold, strong, and honorable.
“Your Majesty seems even more beautiful than usual today,” Lady Mare asked Leto warmly, like a mother proudly speaking of her daughter.
But I’m sorry, Lady Mare.
That man probably doesn’t care about my appearance at all.
Look—he’s just staring at me without a single compliment.
I smiled and approached Leto.
“Did you come to greet me?”
I knew. It wasn’t a greeting—he had come to watch me. Still, I decided to act kindly. After all, a true Empress would behave like this. I wanted to do better than he expected. Out of stubbornness, if nothing else.
He didn’t answer. He just widened his blue eyes and stared at me. After a moment, he finally spoke.
“That attire—”
Ah. He’s reacting to a luxury item he’s never seen before. Maybe he’s worried I spent the imperial funds frivolously?
“My brothers gave them to me as gifts. Every single one.”
He hesitated. He seemed about to say more but swallowed it back and muttered,
“…I see.”
“I think I’m ready. Shall we go now?”
“Let’s.”
Leto extended his arm. I lightly took it, as etiquette required. Together, we walked toward the banquet hall.
Walking according to etiquette.
Standing straight according to etiquette.
Holding my skirt according to etiquette.
Making eye contact with nobles according to etiquette.
It was a moment that made all the effort over the past week shine. Leto leaned close and whispered.
“Lady Countess Mare put in quite a bit of effort.”
So he doesn’t acknowledge my hard work. But I wasn’t hurt. I’d often received such treatment in my life.
Who would give me recognition? As long as they don’t take what’s mine, it’s fine.
“Yes. I received much help,” I replied.
Perfect etiquette in tone. For once, he smirked.
“Your social skills surpass Libia’s.”
“Thank you for the compliment.”
“The banquet hall is ahead. You haven’t forgotten my instructions, have you?”
“Quietly, and keep still, right?”
“Yes. You understand the essentials well.”
Of course. The one desperate isn’t you—it’s me. The one whose life is at stake.
“His Majesty the Emperor and Her Majesty the Empress are entering!”
The doorman announced loudly. Music, fragrance, and grandeur overwhelmed the senses. The chandeliers dazzled.
It was a banquet beyond words—truly a grand event for the imperial family, befitting a National Founding Day celebration.
We walked across the hall, and nobles politely gave way. Though their glances at me were anything but polite.
We sat side by side at the head table. Nobles whispered while sneaking peeks.
“The resurrected Empress.”
“She’s come back, all dressed up, looking so splendid.”
All good gossip, no doubt.
Being in a high position isn’t easy. It takes courage and shamelessness.
The event began with the Emperor’s speech. Leto raised his wine glass.
“Today, we welcome the royal family, nobles, and priests gathered to celebrate the 154th Founding Day of the great Set Empire. May you all strive for the glory of the Empire and the well-being of our people.”
It was a speech demanding pride and sacrifice rather than granting privileges. Faces that had been at ease now grew tense.
Everyone raised their glasses after Leto. But my table had only teacups. Yutton, who was nearby, whispered,
“My apologies, Your Majesty. The Emperor has forbidden Her Majesty from consuming alcohol. But we have prepared a variety of teas from the palace: Bergamot, Ceylon, Nilgiri, Assam, milk tea, and tea tree, both hot and cold. Please choose whichever you prefer.”
An apology for not offering wine.
A meticulous alternative.
And yet, humble, without a hint of boasting.
Yutton is truly an excellent secretary.
I gave Yutton a small smile. I couldn’t thank him aloud due to the silence order.
Since the hall was warm, I chose iced tea tree tea. Yutton poured it from a glass pot filled with ice.
Leto confirmed my cup was full, then raised his glass.
“To the Empire.”
When he emptied his glass, others followed.
“To the Empire!”
“To the Empire!”
The tea was strong—bitter enough to linger.
The banquet officially began.
The nobles danced.
The priests sang.
Knights performed their own dances.
Even the performers moved gracefully.
It was a meticulously planned Founding Day celebration.
Leto remained at his post, expressionless. Even as the dances began, the Emperor and Empress did not participate officially. In response, young ladies lined up to greet us. To be precise, to greet Leto.
“Your Majesty. It is an honor to see you,” they said.
“Likewise. Your greetings are noted; please return to your places.”
“Your Majesty, I was delighted to dance with you at the last ball. Perhaps today—”
“I’m afraid not. I do not plan to dance today.”
Leto dismissed all greetings with precision. Apparently, he occasionally danced with the young ladies before, likely as a form of imperial-noble diplomacy.
It would be fine if he danced today. Once he left, I might finally breathe freely.
I glanced at him, and he, looking bored over the hall, met my eyes.
I indicated the young ladies, tilting my head, silently questioning why he wouldn’t dance.
He gazed at me calmly, then said something unexpected.
“The Matrion brothers will be arriving late today.”
I nodded. That morning, a message had come from the Matrion brothers—they would be late due to affairs in their estate.
I actually thought it was fortunate. With so much chatter, it would have been difficult to greet anyone properly.
But why did Leto mention it?
He said plainly,
“I have no fondness for leaving someone idle.”
Ah. It was because of me. Naturally, an Empress shouldn’t be left alone, even for the sake of the imperial reputation.
The Founding Day celebrations continued until sunset. Leto stayed the entire time.
Of course, occasional unpleasant comments reached us. Young ladies whispered not far away, loud enough for me to hear.
“Her Majesty the Empress seems unchanged. So proper.”
“Yes. I thought she might be paying attention today. But she hasn’t said a word yet, has she?”
“Not to mention, she hasn’t even touched wine.”
“Then why bother resurrecting her at all…”
Libia’s dignity had clearly fallen to nothing. Even petty remarks from young ladies reached me.
I turned to stare at them. They glanced at me at first, but I continued my gaze. After a while, they slowly dispersed. By etiquette, young ladies cannot face the Empress directly.
It was a pity. If not for the silence order, I would have replied.
“Your Majesty.”
A young man cautiously approached Leto. Nobles stepped back like a receding tide, as if looking upon a monster, with disdain.
I flinched upon seeing him. His face and hands were covered in scales and blotches.
“Skin disease? That’s severe.”
The nobles whispered.
“Gross…”
“…All because of the ‘Goddess’s curse’…”
“What sin did he commit to deserve this, tsk tsk.”
He flushed under their contempt. Even then, he clenched his fists as if trying to resist itching.
I gestured to Yutton, who whispered quickly.
“This is Baron Param Sannuel. He has withdrawn from public life after an unexplained skin disease appeared. The Chancellor insisted it’s a Goddess’s curse. I’ve heard he will relocate to a remote island tonight.”
Param Sannuel. I had heard of him in Lady Mare’s lesson.
Leto, as Crown Prince, went north to fight monsters in a perilous mission. Param had accompanied him as a strategist and achieved great merit. Despite being a second son, he inherited a title because of that achievement.
And yet, a single word from the Chancellor condemns him so.
The Chancellor sat drinking leisurely in the distance, unconcerned by Param’s misfortune.
Leto called out to Param boldly.
“Param, come closer.”
A noble urgently shouted,
“Your Majesty! Be careful. That one is cursed—”
“Who just called him cursed?”
Leto glared at the nobles. They went silent under that piercing gaze.
“I invited Param. Is it not proper to invite a meritorious man to a significant imperial event?”
No one could respond. Param knelt on one knee before Leto.
“Baron Param Sannuel, I pay my respects, Your Majesty. Thank you sincerely for the invitation.”
He spoke calmly—a man of firm resolve.
Leto addressed him,
“Well done, Param. Enjoy the banquet with Yutton.”
“No, Your Majesty. Having seen you, I shall return home now.”
“What do you mean? You just arrived.”
“I apologize, but there is much to attend to regarding my relocation. Please allow it.”
He said it earnestly. Surely, it wasn’t the relocation but Leto’s presence—any attention would fuel gossip.
Leto regarded him, seemingly frustrated. Perhaps it was just my impression, but there was concern in his eyes.
“…Very well. But if anything occurs at your new place, send a message immediately.”
“It is an honor.”
Param approached me.
“Your Majesty the Empress, Baron Param Sannuel pays his respects.”
He knelt politely. I examined the hand he placed on his knee. As expected, the scales were dry skin.
Flakes, blotches, even itchiness.
This looks like… psoriasis.
Psoriasis is common, even if its cause is unknown. Ointment would likely help. And yet they call it a ‘Goddess’s curse.’
Perhaps embarrassed by my gaze, Param hid his hand in his sleeve. Sensing this, Leto spoke.
“Param, step back. The Empress does not seem well today.”
No.
I must tell him that his condition is not a curse. Otherwise, he will live his life as a criminal.
The moment was now.
Urgently, I grabbed Param’s wrist. His eyes widened.
“Oh! The Empress touched him!”
“This is terrible! The curse will spread!”
The onlookers gasped. Param tried to pull away, but I held his hand tighter.
“Your Majesty, let go of his hand,” Leto said in a low voice, warning me for the first and last time.
Then, I saw the teacups on the table—more precisely, the pot of iced tea tree tea.
That’s it.
Splash.
I poured the entire pot of tea and ice over his hands.
Silence fell over the banquet hall. Even the court musicians stopped playing.
Leto grabbed my wrist.
“Your Majesty.”
His expression was unreadable.
“Come with me for a moment.”
