Chapter 114
Elaine’s personal knight was known publicly as a commoner, but the truth was slightly different.
He had been born into a noble family of high rank but had severed ties with them and entered the temple — only to leave again for reasons of his own.
Elaine remembered him confessing that to her once.
It was a peculiar background, yes, but he was now a free man — and since they loved each other, Elaine had believed that of course he would accept her plea.
But her lover said, with unwavering finality:
“…I cannot do that.”
“Why?! Why not? You love me!”
“The gods have given me a mission. My duty is to protect you.”
“To protect me? Then why won’t you stop me from being handed off to that wretched emperor?!”
Elaine had begged him through her tears, and eventually he told her the truth.
It was simple, and cruel.
The “god” had given him a mission: Elaine was destined to enter the palace and bear a special child.
His task was to protect her. That was all.
That was why he had hidden his past, concealed his name, and entered the service of a mere count’s daughter.
When Elaine heard that, her world collapsed.
“So you never loved me?”
He was silent.
“You came to me because of that mission? So… there was never any real meaning to us?”
His silence was answer enough.
Elaine’s heart shattered. She gave up everything and entered the palace — and soon after, she bore the emperor’s child.
Not long after the birth, news came of her lover’s death.
Elaine knew, instantly.
He hadn’t fled. He had let himself die.
Because of duty.
Because of fate.
Because of some divine mission.
And so, she hated.
If that man’s death had meaning only through her child, if the gods had chosen her for this cursed purpose — then surely that child was to blame for everything.
Elaine’s daughter was sickly and weak from birth, and everyone around panicked that the baby might die.
Elaine only laughed.
If God truly had a plan for this child, then She wouldn’t let her die, would She?
Elaine, who had never expected affection from her parents, now had only one person left in her life.
She had a secret friend — one no one else knew about.
Their first meeting had been strange: the woman had been found bleeding in the count’s garden, and Elaine had saved her.
After that, the woman often came to visit Elaine in secret, always hidden from others’ eyes. The two grew inseparable.
Her friend was nothing like a typical noble lady.
Elaine had never once seen her in a dress. Her hair was cropped short, her tone bold, her body still carried the faint scent of blood.
It wasn’t hard to guess that she lived a life steeped in danger — perhaps something extraordinary.
Even after Elaine became empress and shut herself away, sick and fading inside the palace, her friend still came to her.
“How have you been, Elaine?”
“Where have you been all this time? I thought I would die… I missed you so much….”
“…You haven’t been well, then. I’m sorry I couldn’t visit more often.”
When Elaine saw her friend’s face, her heart lurched.
Those eyes — that expression — she knew it.
It was the same look her lover had worn when he’d told her he couldn’t run away with her.
The look of someone who had already made a decision.
“I came to say goodbye.”
“Goodbye…?”
“I had a daughter. A beautiful little girl. Brown hair, bright blue eyes — she’s so precious.”
Elaine couldn’t speak. She had never even known her friend was married, much less had borne a child.
But the pit of her stomach turned cold. She knew what was coming.
Please, don’t say it.
Don’t tell me you’re leaving me too.
Don’t tell me I was never important to you.
She already knew she was the weakest, the least gifted, the one without power or talent — the one who could not even escape on her own.
“You might not understand, but… this world is in great danger. I’ve been trying to stop it. Now that I have a child, I’m even more determined. I want her to live safely. I’ll do everything I can to protect that. Maybe… your daughter will be safer, too.”
Elaine wanted to scream.
She wanted to cry and grab her friend and beg her to stay.
But she knew.
Her friend was leaving to do something vast, something beyond Elaine’s reach — to “save the world,” to “secure the future.”
Unlike Elaine — who would rot away in a palace, unwanted and unseen — her friend had a purpose.
Elaine couldn’t say the petty, desperate truth:
That she just wanted someone to need her.
That she wanted someone to see her, not her daughter — the precious “betrothed of the Castrine heir.”
She couldn’t risk hearing:
“Are you really that small-minded, Elaine? Can’t you understand me?”
She thought those words would kill her.
“Even if we never see each other again… be well.”
With that faint smile, her friend disappeared.
Elaine never learned what family her friend came from, but she had a suspicion — the Castrine family.
The same family her own daughter was betrothed into from birth.
Drowning in tangled, bitter emotions, Elaine thought:
I want to die.
But she couldn’t.
“If I die easily, Cleo will use Titania’s existence to control the Castrine family.”
She couldn’t let that happen.
She didn’t care what happened to her own Bradley family — but her friend’s family must not suffer.
Once Titania came of age, the engagement would end somehow.
Until then, she thought.
Just until then, I’ll endure.
She hated them all — the ones who left her, the ones who spoke of fate and the future.
All so noble, all so grand.
They had all but told her:
“Just be a mother to that child, Elaine. That’s all you’re for.”
So she clenched her teeth and turned her back on Titania.
The neglected child grew crooked — of course she did.
When Elaine heard of it, she felt a twisted mixture of satisfaction, regret, and confusion.
If the child had been born only to ruin Elaine’s life, to take everything from her — then shouldn’t she at least have grown into something remarkable?
A prodigy, a savior, a curse worthy of the pain she’d caused?
Perhaps not.
Perhaps because she was Elaine’s daughter — and that wretched emperor’s child — she could only ever end up ordinary.
Maybe everyone’s choices had been mistakes from the start.
And so, Elaine felt both guilt and a terrible satisfaction.
If that child grew up twisted, broken — Elaine would finally be free to die, content.
Perhaps she would even be able to pity the girl.
But the world changed.
Though no one had ever truly raised her, the child grew up strong — strong enough to look at her own mother with those eyes.
Those same eyes.
The ones that said, “I am above you now.”
Elaine smiled faintly — a smile as thin as morning fog.
“So then, let’s see what happens, shall we?”
* * *
“Are you alright?”
“Why wouldn’t I be?”
I smiled at the Empress, pressing a cool ice pack against my swollen eyelids.
She didn’t look convinced. Her expression was filled with concern — real, maternal worry.
Even Adrian, usually the picture of calm amusement, looked grim.
“So many people worry about me,” I said lightly. “But I can’t keep letting myself be shaken by someone whose sincerity I can’t even trust, can I?”
The Empress sighed quietly.
“You don’t need to push yourself. You don’t have to pretend you don’t feel anything. You’re still young, Titania. You don’t have to crush your own heart just to stay composed.”
“And His Majesty? How is he?” I asked sweetly. “I imagine he’s in a wonderful mood.”
The Empress hesitated, clearly realizing what I meant.
“He came to me,” she said finally, “asking whether it might be proper to grant the Lady of Lycoris Palace a new residence, since her current one is in such poor condition.”
“Oh,” I said, feigning awe. “How beautifully hypocritical.”
It was ridiculous.
Everyone knew the household affairs of the inner palace were handled by Queen Cleo, not the Empress.
And yet the Emperor suddenly wanted to follow “protocol” now?
He had ignored it for years when it suited him — treating the Empress like an ornament while doing as he pleased.
Adrian shrugged.
“If you ask me,” he said, “it’s less about giving her a new palace and more about finding an excuse to shower her with gifts. But there’s no proper reason to do so now, and if he’s too generous, people will say he’s overly fond of a mere consort. So, he’d rather have Her Majesty bestow the rewards in his stead.”
“Wow,” I said brightly. “Pathetic.”
“He’s probably afraid of Queen Cleo, too,” Adrian added.
That made sense.
He’d probably promised Elaine the world in the heat of the moment — and now he regretted it.
“Then,” I said, smiling sweetly, “shall we give His Majesty a proper excuse?”
Both the Empress and Adrian turned to look at me.
My smile widened.
