Chapter 25
Judging from Richard’s reaction, his situation inside the Imperial Palace seemed just as dire as I had feared.
However, in the original story, even in the same circumstances, it had taken nine full years to assassinate him. That was how difficult it was to remove a legitimate crown prince—both power and justification were required.
The mastermind behind Richard’s assassination had been obvious: it was clearly the First Empress’s faction. But even they had lacked sufficient power and justification at the time.
For one, it hadn’t been long since the Empress’s death, so the power of her natal family, the ducal House of Chartello, would not have weakened yet. And no matter how much the Emperor favored the First Empress and her son, First Prince Ricardo, any opposing faction would naturally rally behind Richard.
The Emperor himself also found it advantageous for his sons to remain locked in a prolonged struggle—it helped secure his own position.
The current Emperor of Eldrian, Ruinadel VII, was no naive fool wishing his sons would all get along. Quite the opposite, in fact.
He was a cunning ruler—placing the sword of power into the hands of the favored consort so she could wield it, then mercilessly taking it away the moment she overstepped.
The First Empress in the original story was no less cunning; she had wielded her blade delicately, careful not to displease the Emperor, and thus maintained her power for a long time.
For her to move so boldly as to assassinate Richard meant she must have had some unshakable confidence to rely on.
In the original story, Ricardo had only gotten rid of Richard after becoming a national hero by slaying a giant monster in the southern desert—and even then, he had framed the assassination on the First Empress. But now, she had acted nine years earlier.
This would have been impossible without a justification powerful enough to overwhelm mere political strength.
“…Damn it.”
The original is deviating too much now—I can’t see a single step ahead.
There is no effect without a cause. Whether it’s coincidence, someone’s will, or divine meddling…
Why did the original change? What butterfly effect led Richard to Valienor?
I racked my brain for an answer and found one certain clue:
Ariel is still alive, even though she should have been dead.
The fact that they had even mobilized Valienor’s wet nurse to kill her proved that my existence itself was the most likely clue—and the strongest evidence.
“Oh, my wretched fate.”
Living an ordinary life is really difficult.
I sat on the terrace and watched the sun rise, burning the horizon. Yellow beams of light teasingly brushed against my pink hair.
In the middle of that giant ball of light stood a towering Lemur oak.
The garden was still and windless, yet the massive oak swayed as if dancing.
They said it was a power that set twisted things right.
I stared blankly at the strange movement, then offered a prayer to whatever god might be out there.
God of Earth,
Anyone will do—if you have a conscience, please make a good deal with this world’s god and take care of my life.
Amen. Inshallah. Namu Amida Butsu.
Uh… um… Om Mani Padme Hum.
I had only dozed off on the terrace for a short while, but when I came to, I was at my work desk.
A sandwich was in my hand, and a mountain of invitations lay piled on the desk.
I bit into the sandwich stuffed with melted cheese, dried tomatoes, and basil. The fresh tomato juice jolted me fully awake.
Damn it. I should have pretended to be sick just for today. I shouldn’t have let Mikhail in.
Maybe I should fake it…
“Mikhail, I think I’m still not feeling well.”
“I see,” he replied.
Mikhail’s all-seeing eyes immediately pierced through my blatant lie.
Truthfully, I was just a little tired—I still had more than enough energy to handle my duties—so I quickly decided to confess and salvage some dignity.
“But I am a professional mistress of the house. Skipping work is not in my vocabulary.”
“A commendable attitude.”
Still holding the sandwich in one hand, I idly flipped through the invitations with the other.
Just skimming the first few on top, I saw they all had the same purpose: to request Ariel Valienor’s attendance at various balls.
“This one’s a ball, that one’s a ball… and here’s a commemorative event and a ball. Ugh. Why are there so many balls in this world?”
“If you decline politely, there will be no major problem.”
“Really? But can I just keep skipping them? I can’t keep lying in bed claiming to be sick forever.”
It’s not that I personally wanted to experience the life of a romance-novel noblewoman, of course…
But honestly, letting this face go to waste at home would be a crime. If I were a K-pop idol, people would say, Thank you for being an idol.
A sweet, innocent look like a mix of deer and rabbit. Striking, elegant features on a small face. A delicate, slender neck and limbs that stirred a protective instinct.
One debutante appearance, and I’d be the flower of the social season without question.
Of course, the daughters of House Valienor didn’t debut in society the way ordinary noble ladies did. There was no need to introduce oneself with, I’ve debuted—please notice me.
Because—
We’re Valienor. No other reason needed.
Mikhail’s red eyes swept over me impassively. He chose his words carefully, but his answer was indirect disapproval.
“You find the act of dressing up troublesome, do you not?”
“That’s true. But if it’s for a ball…”
“To prepare for a ball, you must have a dress fitted at least two weeks in advance, and on the day itself you’ll need about four hours of grooming.”
“I can endure that.”
His smooth lips parted slightly, then closed again—apparently unable to find further objections.
Why was he even blocking me on this? A noblewoman my age should have a debutante ball. Does he have a reason?
“Do you want me to avoid going to a ball?”
“Yes! Don’t go to a ball, Sis.”
The question had been for Mikhail, but the answer came from my younger sister, Davina, who had slipped in through the window as if it were perfectly normal.
“Davina, the door is right there.”
“Oh, right.”
“…Next time, use the door.”
“Mhm. Anyway, no balls.”
“Why not?”
“Because the men won’t leave you alone! And then you’ll get engaged and married, and what will happen to me?!”
Her mouth jutted out like a duck’s beak. The sight made me want to tease her.
“Wouldn’t you get a fiancé even if you don’t go to balls? Father would find one for you.”
Her mouth dropped open like a hippo’s—clearly she hadn’t thought of that.
“The Duke of Meteor has said he will fully respect Miss Ariel’s wishes regarding marriage,” Mikhail’s mechanical tone cut in like a ray of light. Davina’s fierce gray-blue eyes widened.
“What? Really?”
“He even added that it would be better for you to live freely, unbound by things like marriage.”
Mikhail adjusted his monocle and generously offered information no one had asked for.
“…Oh, good grief.”
Talk about a doting father. Duke, please mind your image—acting like an obvious daughter-con is a bit much.
“I didn’t like Father much before, but now I do,” Davina said cheerfully, running toward me for some reason, despite claiming it was Father she liked.
“Whoa, whoa. Don’t run, Davina.”
I calmed my charging little sister like a wild animal and made my stance clear. The stubbornness of an eldest daughter doesn’t break that easily.
“Still, since I’m even hosting a tea party, I can’t reject every ball invitation. Pick the best one for a social debut—not an official debutante ball or something huge like the Founding Festival, though. I don’t want something that burdensome.”
“Yes, miss.”
Mikhail’s usual obedience was tinged with reluctance. For some reason, he didn’t seem keen on me attending social events. It wasn’t likely he was worried about men swarming me like Davina was… so why? No idea.
Rather than try to unravel Mikhail’s mysterious algorithm, I focused on my next task.
“About Baron Caitlin—there’s still no movement?”
“No, miss. We’ll have to wait and watch.”
“Well, of course. In any case, I need to visit Jeremiah today and see how things are—”
“Myaa!”
A strange cry rang from the bed. A moment later, a sleek black cat leapt gracefully to the floor.
“Risha—no, Liri?”
“Sis! Liri’s awake?!”
“Yeah. Last night.”
The cat stretched and curled repeatedly as if warming up after a long nap.
Davina’s eyes sparkled as she crept toward Liri, her movements like a predator stalking prey.
Liri’s golden eyes swept sharply over Davina from head to toe. The two of them—one wearing animal fur, the other behaving like an animal—faced off in an odd standoff.
Crouched low, they stared each other down before leaping at the same time.
Davina lunged for Liri—Liri leapt for me.
“Ah! Where’d it go?!”
“Myaaa?”
With regal poise, Liri stood atop the invitations, meowing mockingly at Davina.
Then, quite deliberately, she scattered the invitations, before hopping lightly into my lap.
“…?”
What on earth is with this cat?
