~Chapter 8~
Hera wasted no time arranging accommodations for Eliana.
However, to avoid arousing Verkley’s suspicion, Hera decided not to act as her direct patron. Instead, she placed Eliana under the sponsorship of another noble household.
Thus, Eliana became the official ward of Marquis Demeter, taking up residence in his estate that very day. Her stay there, however, was only temporary—merely a preparatory lodging before she entered the imperial palace.
The Demeter family had produced generations of holy knights, and the current marquis—having received a divine revelation as a child—had surpassed even the next papal candidate to become the reigning Pope.
At present, he was stationed outside the capital, leading a campaign to purge demonic beasts; his residence remained empty in his absence.
In the original story, the Marquis of Demeter had never appeared—a mere name at best.
“It seems my early encounter with Hera changed some events, placing me here instead. But… this kind of deviation shouldn’t alter the main plot too drastically.”
To Finn, however, it appeared as though the Marquis had graciously chosen to sponsor Eliana. Hearing that her lady would soon enter the palace with such backing, she rejoiced as if it were her own triumph.
Pohn had forbidden Eliana from revealing her secret meeting with Hera, so she left Finn blissfully unaware of the truth.
After Eliana relocated to the Demeter estate, Finn promptly resigned from her position at House Musieux and followed her mistress without hesitation.
“You’re quitting that easily?”
“There’s no point staying in that house if you’re gone, my lady.”
“You really like me too much.”
“Then do you not like me, my lady?”
“Of course I do.”
“Then what’s the problem? You like me, I like you—it’s only natural I follow you.”
“…You’re incredible.”
Eliana gazed at her in admiration, while Finn puffed out her chest proudly, as if to say, Leave everything to me.
Eliana then began preparations to enter the palace.
The tutors sent by Hera drilled her relentlessly in imperial etiquette—and, notably, the emperor’s personal preferences.
It was clear that Hera intended to make her the emperor’s new companion, one way or another.
Eliana, of course, welcomed it.
If she was to survive near the story’s hidden villain, any knowledge of his habits or temperament could mean the difference between life and death.
The day before her entry into the palace, Pohn stopped by briefly, though even his visits had grown infrequent. Hera had already laid the groundwork—Eliana simply had to step into place.
“I’m nervous,” Eliana murmured.
“I’m sad,” Finn replied gloomily.
Eliana blinked in surprise. “Sad?”
Finn pouted. “I thought I could go with you…”
“Wait—what do you mean? You’re not coming to the palace?”
Finn shook her head slowly. “Commoners aren’t permitted entry.”
Eliana froze, belatedly realizing the gulf between their social ranks.
Though they’d spent so much time together, she had forgotten how rigid this world’s hierarchy truly was.
Finn was the only person she could speak to without fear. Now that comfort was being taken from her, the loneliness struck deep.
“Of course, she cares for Eliana Musieux, not… me.”
Still, perhaps it was better this way. If they stayed together much longer, Finn might notice the change in her.
When Eliana remained silent, Finn clenched her fists.
“I’ll find a way for us to be together, no matter what!”
“You don’t need to—don’t strain yourself.”
“I’ll do it anyway. Just… don’t forget me while I’m gone.”
“Forget you? Never.”
Eliana smiled faintly, her tone bittersweet. That night, they stayed awake until dawn, whispering through Finn’s tears and Eliana’s nerves.
The next morning, the carriage bearing the imperial crest arrived at the Demeter estate.
A stern-looking woman stepped out, dressed in immaculate uniform—clearly a chief lady-in-waiting.
Considering that most palace attendants were nobles, she too must have come from an esteemed house.
“I am Sophia Moore, Chief Lady-in-Waiting,” she announced coolly. “You must be Lady Eliana Musieux?”
Eliana’s hunch was correct—the Moore family ranked far above her father’s fallen countship.
“Yes, Lady Moore. It’s an honor to meet you.”
“I’ve heard of you from Her Majesty, the Dowager Empress. Quickly now—get inside before we’re late.”
Sophia stepped aside to open the door. It seemed she served directly under Hera’s orders.
“Stay safe, my lady,” Finn said tearfully.
“Take care, Finn.”
Eliana hugged her tightly, brushing away the maid’s tears before stepping into the carriage.
When Sophia gave the signal, the carriage lurched forward.
The rhythmic clop-clop of hooves echoed on the paved road, the speed gradually increasing.
Then—pain.
A sharp, stabbing ache bloomed in Eliana’s chest. She gasped, clutching at her heart.
“Lady Eliana?” Sophia turned sharply, alarm flashing across her face.
Eliana couldn’t answer. Her head rang; nausea surged.
This wasn’t motion sickness—it was terror.
She heard it again—the phantom noise of tires spinning, the wail of a car horn, sounds that had no place in this world.
Her body trembled violently; her vision blurred.
Sophia gripped her arm. “Are you unwell?”
“It’s… nothing,” Eliana managed to whisper, forcing herself to breathe through the open window.
When she had ridden with Pohn before, she hadn’t felt this way. But now, on this open highway, the carriage raced faster—too fast.
“It’s the speed… it feels just like before.”
The memory of the bus crash overlapped vividly with the jolting carriage. Panic crawled up her spine.
She asked Sophia to slow down, voice trembling. The woman frowned but complied, ordering the driver to reduce speed.
Even so, Eliana’s heart pounded until the carriage came to a full stop.
Upon arrival, Sophia guided her into a lavish reception hall and handed her a glass of cold water.
Eliana drank deeply, her trembling subsiding little by little.
Sophia, however, looked displeased.
“You’ve ridden carriages before, haven’t you? Such dramatics over a bit of motion sickness.”
Eliana forced a sheepish smile. “I suppose I startled myself. I rarely travel beyond the estate.”
“If you’re this fragile, how will you ever serve His Majesty properly?”
“I’m deeply sorry, Lady Moore.”
Sophia only clicked her tongue in disapproval.
When the dowager’s messenger left to inform Hera of their arrival, Eliana finally had a moment to breathe.
The palace reception hall was magnificent—far grander than anything she’d seen at the Musieux estate.
Golden furniture gleamed under chandeliers, jewels adorned every frame, and fresh flowers perfumed the air.
It was like stepping onto a movie set.
Eliana’s awe had barely settled when the door opened once more.
She turned—and met Hera’s crimson eyes.
Eliana rose at once, gathering her skirts and bowing gracefully.
“I greet Her Imperial Grace, the flower of the Empire.”
“I heard you suffered from motion sickness,” Hera said, settling elegantly into the seat opposite her. “Are you feeling better now?”
Sophia must have reported ahead of time.
Eliana lowered her eyes modestly. “Thanks to Your Majesty’s concern, I feel much improved.”
“Good.”
Hera smiled faintly, and another maid poured tea for both of them.
Just as Hera lifted her cup, the white cat trailing behind her leapt onto her lap—
Clang!
“Ah—!”
“Your Majesty! Are you hurt?!”
Hot tea splashed across Hera’s hand. The cat yowled and darted away as Sophia rushed forward with a cold cloth.
Hera’s skin had already reddened, but she brushed the attendant aside.
“That’s enough.”
Her tone was calm, almost too calm.
Sophia stiffened, sensing the shift in her mistress’s mood.
Then Hera’s voice dropped, low and deliberate.
“Sophia. Bring it here.”
