IYTTEPAAK Chapter 38

Fifth princess. Cehera Istinel Magnalorde.

Now deposed and stripped of the Magnalorde name, she stood alone on that stage like a tragic leading lady claiming every inch of it for herself.

Today, Cehera looked more radiant than she ever had in all her days. Her dark green hair fell elegantly over one shoulder, and she wore a gown that made a striking point of the line of her lower body.

Draped in countless strands of pearl jewelry, she looked mysterious, otherworldly—like a mermaid freshly caught from the sea.

Compared to the porcelain doll sold earlier, no one could compare to this piece of merchandise, and the hall stirred at the sight.

The presenter sized Cehera up like an item on the block, working his glib tongue.

"Well, isn't this something? Isn't she magnificent? Though deposed, and though she's lost her princely title and rank, she remains, without question, a daughter of His Imperial Majesty. Her value as a keepsake is more than sufficient, I assure you. Ah, but to be clear—this is not a slave auction."

"......"

"What's on offer at this auction is the right to take Lady Cehera as a wife. In other words—this is a dowry auction. Starting price: one million gold!"

It was deception. A marriage arranged through buying and selling was, in the end, nothing more than slavery wrapped up in fine packaging.

The more ceremony and pretext were piled on top, the more refined the humiliation became.

As if determined not to cry and simply endure it, Cehera stood with her eyes wide open, gripping the fabric of her dress tightly.

The hall was loud with noise, but no one raised a wooden paddle.

"No bidders? Since it's gone unsold, we'll begin again at half the price."

The starting price dropped to five hundred thousand.

The nobles, who had been watching each other's reactions until now, cleared their throats and began quietly raising their paddles.

"Five hundred thousand."

"We have five hundred thousand."

"Five hundred ten thousand!"

"Yes. Five hundred ten thousand. Any higher?"

"Five hundred twenty thousand!"

"Five hundred thirty thousand!"

The auction proceeded briskly.

"...... How."

I still hadn't shaken off the shock.

My mind felt so dazed that reality seemed impossibly distant. Every sound around me rang muffled and far away, as if I were hearing it from inside an underwater cave.

"Five hundred fifty thousand!"

"We have five hundred fifty thousand!"

I gripped the armrest, holding on to something. I thought.

My older sister Cehera was, without question, someone I hated. She'd picked fights with me on the flimsiest of logic, crossed lines with tiresome persistence.

More than once, she had relentlessly hounded me when I barely had the energy to pursue my own grand plan, draining both my stamina and my spirit.

"Five hundred seventy thousand!"

"Five hundred eighty thousand!"

"Six hundred thousand!"

"The interest is heating up! Six hundred thousand! Any higher?"

But did that mean I'd wanted her treated this cruelly?

Could I feel any satisfaction watching her get sold off to some man—not as a person, but as an object?

No. Whatever rival Cehera might be to me, this was wrong.

This—was wrong.

"If there's no higher bid, we'll close at six hundred thousand to the gentleman who—"

By the time I came back to myself, I was already holding up the paddle.

"One million!"

"...... Your Highness, the Silver Bird Princess?"

The auction house filled entirely with gasps. Surrounded on all sides by stares, I locked my eyes straight ahead and held my ground.

Sasha and Cehera looked at each other. An eye desperately pleading to be saved and an eye burning with fury at the injustice of it all met across the distance, tangling in the air between them.

The presenter paused the auction for a moment and turned to me.

"And what do you intend to do, if you win Lady Cehera's bid?"

"I'll tell you once I've won her."

"Ah, I see. In any case, one million gold was a remarkably forceful and impressive figure. As the presenter of this auction, I must say I found it thrilling enough to give me chills. But—"

The master of ceremonies smirked.

"Ah, what a pity, truly. This auction is open only to noble gentlemen between the ages of fifteen and sixty!"

"......"

"And so, the final bid goes to Viscount Orlo, at six hundred thousand gold!"

The wooden gavel rang out beautifully, twice. The dowry auction had come to an end.

Once the auction ended, the nobles began drifting away, one by one.

I sat rooted to my seat, dazed, while the sisters around me offered a few words of concern before leaving ahead of me.

None of them had the room to spare for looking after anyone else, either.

Unless they went back to their quarters and let their ladies-in-waiting comfort them, or stuffed themselves with sweet desserts while crying, or crushed the flowers in a vase to pieces to steady themselves—none of them would manage to keep breathing right now, let alone hold themselves together.

A shadow fell across me. Regen had come quietly to stand beside me.

"Sasha."

"......"

"Are you all right?"

"......"

My throat had tightened slightly, so I answered with a nod instead of words.

The stage was still there in my line of sight. The man who'd won Cehera's bid, Viscount Orlo, had been an old man, far older even than the Mad Emperor.

Just as he was about to lead a satisfied-looking Cehera away, she'd suddenly asked him to wait a moment, requesting his indulgence.

With two knights flanking her on either side to keep her from fleeing, she came toward me.

I looked up at her from where I sat. Her deeply painted red lips parted.

"Why did you do that?"

"......"

I couldn't answer right away. It was a question that required some thought from me too.

"I suppose I'm not sure. Why did I do it, I wonder."

"......"

"I disliked you. But I never once wished for something like this to happen to you."

"Is this hypocrisy? Trying to put me in your debt."

"I don't think so. There's nothing in it for me—you'd resent me no matter what I did anyway."

"......"

"......"

We held each other's gaze, lips pressed shut.

It was the same as the countless standoffs we'd had before. But there was no fighting spirit left in either of our eyes.

At some point, Cehera let out a laugh that sounded like it was on the verge of tears.

"It's almost funny. That the one person who tried to help me, in the end, was the sister I tormented the most."

"...... It made no difference in the end, so it was a pointless thing to do."

"Even so."

"......"

"I won't forget it."

It was in this moment, I think, that a hollow, pointless gesture came to mean something after all.

"Th— ...thank you. Be well."

The parting words she gave before turning away sounded as clumsy as if she were speaking them for the very first time in her life.

"...... Let's go back too. To our quarters."

Only once Cehera had disappeared from sight was I able to gather myself and rise from my seat.

I'd endured more than enough spiritual trial for one day. You'd think the cruel world would grant me my small wish to hurry home to my own safe haven and rest—but the merciless world still had one more torment saved up for me.

I hadn't walked far after leaving the main palace when I ran straight into an intensely unpleasant person.

"Your Highness, Princess Rosasia."

"......"

There stood the golden-haired knight—objectively splendid, subjectively repulsive—Domynick Müjecal.

Hadn't it only been a short while since he'd dragged Archbishop Grehmol away? And here he was again, blocking my path.

I tried to ignore him and walk past, but Domynick planted himself squarely in my way, deliberately obstructing my route.

I let out a sigh, and the words came out of me like something I'd had to force up from inside.

"I'm exhausted. What is it?"

"I've come to reclaim my handkerchief."

"I lost it. Move."

"A shame. I'd hoped to have it back before I set off on a long journey."

"......"

The rare good news softened my irritation a little.

At the look in my eyes asking where he was headed, he answered readily enough. Not that I expected him to say anything I'd actually want to hear.

"The southern front. Off to earn myself a dowry."

"......"

My expression very nearly cracked.

My reaction must have delighted him, because he just kept prattling on.

"Don't worry. Aren't I your escape route? If you ever want to flee the palace, you need only come to me. The position of Countess Müjecal is always waiting, whenever you'd like it."

I couldn't let him get away with the act of grabbing my hand uninvited to kiss it. I yanked it back roughly.

"Get out of my way."

"You're especially on edge today. Know something? The more on edge you are, the more it's my taste."

I understood clearly today. Domynick Müjecal was a man not even worth wasting words on—let alone insults.

"Sir Domynick."

A low, clear voice drifted into my ear and cooled the heat in my head. It was Regen.

"You're a knight yourself, are you not. If there is even the smallest grain of sincerity in that affection of yours, then step back today."

"......"

For some reason, the words landed with real effect. Domynick's eyebrows twitched, but he held himself in check.