Chapter 117
What had just happened—whether it was poison or a curse—was clearly an act staged by the Empress and Princess Titania.
They must have wanted to stir up a scene and pin the blame on Cleo, but since that might expose their own schemes, they would probably end it quietly. That much, I was sure of.
Or so I thought.
Suddenly, a servant cried out at the top of his lungs.
The doors of the grand banquet hall, sealed ever since the Empress and Princess had collapsed, swung open.
Someone was striding in with measured, commanding steps.
“L–Lady Armerine is entering!”
A calm, resonant voice followed.
“It has been a long time, Your Majesty the Emperor.”
“…Aunt.”
The Emperor looked utterly bewildered—as though asking why on earth she was here.
The other nobles’ faces mirrored the same confusion.
The woman who had captured everyone’s attention smiled faintly.
* * *
Before the late Emperor passed away, the current Emperor had been his only son, pampered and adored.
Too much so, in fact—that was the problem.
After both the late Emperor and Empress died, there were virtually no elders left in the imperial family.
That meant there was no one who could restrain the young Emperor when he ignored the Empress and showered affection on his concubine instead.
However, that didn’t mean the Emperor had no remaining relatives.
The late Emperor had a much younger sister.
When she was unmarried, her name had been Valentina Cel Latva Hamastion, the Empire’s only imperial princess.
She married into the venerable Ressen family of the southwestern provinces—a union of great prestige—and for a while, she seemed to live a life of luxury and pride.
That was, until the day a woman appeared at the Ressen estate claiming to have borne Valentina’s husband’s illegitimate son.
Upon hearing this, Valentina promptly took to her bed and refused to get up.
At the time, the late Emperor was still alive.
Valentina stormed to the capital and declared, “If you do not grant me a divorce from that wretch, brother, you will soon see my head rolling across the palace floor!”
—while holding a dagger to her own throat.
The Emperor was exasperated.
If his sister had a child of her own, he could have dismissed the bastard as irrelevant or pressured the Ressen patriarch to quietly dispose of the problem.
But the couple had no children at all.
And though she was royal by birth, once she married, she was part of the Ressen household.
For her to run crying to the Emperor over “a mere illegitimate child” infuriated the Ressen patriarch, who trembled with rage.
The late Emperor adored his sister, yes—but even he could not deny that she was far too hot-headed.
If only she had handled things discreetly, he could have fixed it behind closed doors.
But instead, she had made it a spectacle.
Divorce between a royal and one of the Empire’s oldest noble houses would mean open enmity between crown and aristocracy.
So the Emperor tried to resolve the matter quietly.
In the end, the divorce was never made official.
But the scandal was already public, and their reputation in ruins.
Even if divorced, the Ressen patriarch could hardly marry his mistress and make her lady of the house.
Nor would any respectable family send their daughter to play stepmother to an illegitimate son.
So, to save face, the marriage remained technically intact.
In reality, however, Valentina and her husband had long since separated.
Valentina was wealthy—immensely so.
From her days as a princess, the entire Armerine territory, a famous resort region, had belonged to her.
She retrieved all the dowry and assets she had brought to the Ressen family and built a “villa” there—a sprawling estate complete with hot springs, forests, a lake, even a private hunting ground.
She claimed it was for her health, but it was practically a paradise.
And there she stayed.
She never returned to society.
She paid no mind to whether her husband’s bastard was made heir, or whether the mistress was treated as lady of the house.
She simply lived lavishly, spending her fortune like water.
The Emperor didn’t stop her.
Everyone knew what had happened, even if it was never made “official.”
So she became a subject of quiet disdain.
“Raised as a pampered princess, and she couldn’t bear to lose face. Look at her now, playing the widow over a bastard child. No wonder she never bore one of her own—who’d want to live with that temper?”
That was how people whispered.
After attending the funerals of the late Emperor and Empress, Valentina withdrew completely from public life.
Once her nephew ascended the throne—a nephew she had never been fond of—she might as well have vanished.
So it was only natural that few even remembered she existed.
“I must thank Your Majesty for remembering this old woman at all.”
Valentina was, after all, the only person alive who could make the Emperor address her as “Aunt.”
At first glance, she looked like a wealthy old lady—but an imposing one.
Her back was unnaturally straight for her age, her height impressive.
Nearly white hair was adorned with large pearls and coral pins.
Her thick brows and sharp nose gave her a commanding presence.
The sort of woman, in short, no daughter-in-law would ever wish to meet.
Her voice was crisp and strong as she clicked her tongue.
“Do you think this old woman came running here because she had nothing better to do? Even though the late Emperor told me this palace would always be my home and that I could come and go without anyone’s permission—well, Your Majesty is the law now.”
“That is not true, Aunt. I should have been the one to invite you first…”
The Emperor’s voice was awkward, but he tried his best to sound respectful.
If he didn’t, she’d surely scold him for defying his father’s will—what could he say to that?
“But… what brings you all the way here? I thought you never left your villa in Armerine.”
“Indeed. I’m an old woman now—frail, weak, content to breathe quietly in peace.
But then, imagine my surprise when I received a letter from a dear grandniece who so deeply cares for her aunt’s health.”
“…A letter?”
“Grandniece?”
The Emperor’s gaze shifted sharply.
Everyone else followed it.
All eyes fell on Titania, who shrank bashfully under their scrutiny.
Cleo clenched her teeth hard enough to ache.
“Originally, I thought if someone from the Bradley family—my grandmother’s side—could come to look after my mother, perhaps her health might improve.
But I heard she had passed away long ago…”
Titania spoke with a voice of innocent sorrow, as though she’d only ever wished for her mother’s well-being.
Her eyes met Elaine’s for the briefest moment.
Elaine’s expression was cold—utterly devoid of emotion.
Titania, however, continued on, unshaken.
“I’ve been fortunate to recover my health, but my mother, Lady Elaine, still suffers.
I’m too young and weak to care for her myself, and I worried constantly about who might help her.
But I couldn’t very well trouble Her Majesty the Empress with such a personal request, and His Majesty the Emperor is always so busy with state affairs…
Even Lady Cleo, who manages so much of the palace, must be overwhelmed.”
At the mention of “Lady Cleo, who manages palace affairs,” Valentina’s eyebrow twitched.
Valentina was born a princess—her brother, an emperor.
Even living in self-imposed exile, she was still imperial.
For a mere concubine, no matter how favored, to “run the palace” as she pleased—such insolence would never sit well with her.
Cleo’s face went white.
That wretched girl! To think she’d go and summon that old fox out of hiding!
I thought she’d rot away in that villa and die quietly!
“While reading through the imperial family register, I happened to discover that I have a great-aunt still living—aunt Valentina, residing in a lovely resort region.
I knew it was presumptuous to trouble her with my personal worries, but since my mother’s health is poor, I thought perhaps she might be able to help…
So, out of selfishness, I wrote her a letter. I never dreamed she would come in person…”
Valentina’s eyes gleamed, half amusement, half steel.
“Such thoughtfulness, isn’t it?
And judging from what I’ve just seen today…”
Her gaze swept over the banquet hall—where the Empress and Princess had so conveniently collapsed.
Her voice dropped, cool and cutting.
“It does seem there was plenty to be concerned about.”
Cleo’s composure shattered.
The meal had been perfectly cooked—until this old woman came to throw ashes into it.
