IYTTEPAAK Chapter 40

Since this was a deliberate occasion to court the Mad Emperor's favor, preparation was necessary.

The full strength of my ladies-in-waiting was mobilized to dress me from head to toe.

For my outfit, I chose a halter-neck dress made of vintage green satin.

From the upper chest to the neck, black lace embroidered lavishly with climbing roses had been layered on—a design where the elegance the green lent and the sultry charm the black lace lent complemented each other beautifully.

My hair was tied into a ponytail and painstakingly curled with rollers.

I was satisfied that this much would do, when I noticed Regen beside me, watching without so much as a blink.

"Does it look strange?"

"Yes."

"......"

"......"

What did he just say?

My eyes narrowed, and he came back to himself, belatedly.

"...No. You're beautiful."

"......"

"Truly."

There was real sincerity in the correction. It seemed the earlier word had simply slipped out wrong.

I let the tension out of my eyes, but Demia's went sharp with fury.

"Standing before Her Highness, a masterpiece in the making by the hands of a true artisan, and letting your mind wander like that—how improper! You'd better be careful, Sir Regen, or you might lose her favor entirely!"

"Demia."

I gave her a stern warning, and Demia clammed up, feigning distraction.

That was when Sione let a small, soft laugh slip out. The two ladies-in-waiting whispered, deliberately loud enough to be heard.

"What are you laughing at, Sione?"

"If Her Highness is the masterpiece, I suppose that makes us the artisans."

"Of course it does. Every lady-in-waiting in this princess's household takes tremendous pride in her work. Especially in serving the most beautiful of all—the Silver Bird Princess herself. We should count it an honor."

"Of course. I count it a tremendous honor."

Being the same age, Demia and Sione got along well together.

It seemed Demia's cheerfulness was helping Sione work through her grim past.

Still, plenty must be festering underneath. But that's what people are—pretend to be fine long enough, and at some point, you actually are.

I looked at Demia with soft eyes.

"Demia, you're growing quite skilled at flattery. I'll have to punish you for it."

"What? Ah, no, Your Highness—"

"Finish off every tart on that table."

"That's far too harsh— huh? Ah, yes! I'll accept the punishment gladly!"

"Hamel and Sione ought to share in the guilt as well. Eat with her."

"Yes, Your Highness."

Having finished our little tyrant-and-ladies-in-waiting routine, I rose from my seat. Hamel, as though she'd been waiting for exactly this moment, brought a luxurious box before me.

I handed it carefully to Regen and explained its contents.

"An ancient grimoire. Before I pry information out of the Mad Emperor, I mean to offer him a gift first, to win his favor."

"The magic in it must be a lost art by now—surely it can't even be deciphered anymore. Does it have any actual use?"

"Of course not. I'll simply exaggerate its value by claiming it holds the magic of eternal life."

The Mad Emperor, being every bit the deranged tyrant he was, dreamed of ruling the world forever, immortal, reigning like a god.

I laid out my con of a plan without batting an eye, and rather than reproaching my morals, Regen worried about my safety instead.

"Will this be all right? If the contents ever do get deciphered later, the Mad Emperor might charge you with deception."

"We'll just have to hope the counter-coup succeeds before that happens."

"......"

"I'm joking. I confirmed it's an old cookbook. There's room to deny responsibility, so don't worry."

I set out for the main palace with Regen.

I'd sent word ahead, so a servant was already waiting to receive us before we'd even entered the main palace grounds.

Guided by the servant, we arrived at the waiting room positioned in front of the audience hall. But I wasn't the only one there.

"Hello, Gwen."

"Ah."

My third-eldest sister, Gwendolyn—her black hair braided into a single voluminous plait—had already claimed the waiting room.

Beside her stood her red-auburn-haired knight, Heinz, in attendance as well.

There were plenty of couches, so I sat far away. If we'd just ignored each other like furniture, it would've been peaceful enough—but Gwendolyn seemed unable to bear my presence.

She gripped the instrument she'd brought with her tight in her hands and flared up.

"Why'd you even come."

"I had a question for His Majesty."

"Why did you have to come at exactly this hour? You did it on purpose, didn't you? To make me feel small."

"......"

"Don't play dumb. You and I both wait here—and he calls you in first. Even if I got here before you. Isn't that right? You came at exactly this hour on purpose, to flaunt that at me."

She seemed thoroughly gripped by a persecution complex.

Experience said as much: agree or disagree, either way, this type just finds something new to bite down on.

"It must be difficult, earning His Majesty's favor. Taking it out on me like this."

"......!"

"Flowers the day before yesterday, dessert yesterday, an instrument today. But none of it will have done any good. His Majesty's favor isn't something earned through effort."

"You—"

Since I couldn't avoid a confrontation either way, I met her provocation in kind.

Watching her fall speechless, I began to think I'd overdone it, so I offered a bit of advice to pay off the debt of picking the fight.

"If His Majesty ever tests you by demanding you bring him something, you must never, under any circumstances, accept it."

In my own mind, this was genuinely the best of goodwill—but the result wasn't good at all.

"You wouldn't know, being the favored one!"

Sincerity, dialogue—these things only work on someone prepared to receive them, and Gwendolyn didn't fall into that category.

"I don't have anything else! There's nothing else I can do! I finally scraped up a little courage, finally tried something—so why do you keep crushing it, why do you keep picking it apart, everything I try? It's not as if I've done you any harm. I know I'm no match for you. I know that already! You don't even see me as competition—because tossing me aside is that easy for you!"

Gwendolyn suddenly shot up from her seat and stormed out of the waiting room.

Heinz left a bow behind and hurried after her.

I understood, clearly now.

"Yep. Just as I figured—me getting involved only ever backfires."

Regen tried to console me.

"Some things a person only understands by going through it themselves. Everyone needs their own time, in the end."

"I suppose."

I just hoped the tuition for that lesson wouldn't run too steep.

Just then, the door to the audience hall opened, and a middle-aged man emerged.

"Quite the commotion. Has something happened?"

"Chamberlain."

A middle-aged man with gray hair slicked back, immaculate and tight against his scalp, streaked here and there with white as though deliberately dyed that way.

The Chamberlain—the Mad Emperor's closest confidant—Count Ignarun Gildren.

I curved my eyes into a smile.

"Nothing at all. Nothing you need concern yourself with."

"I don't see the New Moon Princess, however."

"My sister's gone to fix her makeup."

The Chamberlain was a man who neither formed factions with other nobles nor ever started a family of his own.

He'd built his position entirely on having served the Mad Emperor alone, faithfully, for a very long time.

At a glance, he'd worked his way into the Mad Emperor's heart with the image of a sage who wanted nothing from the world, a loyal subject devoted to the emperor alone.

But in reality, the Chamberlain had ambitions of his own too. And they were more abnormal, more twisted, than anyone else's in the world.

He was a control freak who lived on the self-satisfaction of believing he manipulated the Mad Emperor exactly as he pleased.

So he wove himself into the Mad Emperor's daily life, planting suspicion with subtlety and sowing discord wherever he could. It would hardly be an exaggeration to say most of the discord within the imperial family traced back to the Chamberlain's own doing.

Pushing Gwendolyn and me into the same waiting room just now had likely been part of his scheming too, meant to plant the seeds of another conflict.

I had no intention of handing him an opening.

"Would you accept a gift first? I've brought it to present to His Majesty."

"This is..."

"A grimoire, believed to be related to eternal life."

The Chamberlain adjusted his monocle and made a show of examining the ancient grimoire. Never mind that it couldn't even be deciphered, being a cookbook.

"The New Moon Princess has been remarkably devoted of late, but a gift, properly speaking, ought to consider the recipient's tastes and needs above all. In that regard, the Silver Bird Princess truly demonstrates exquisite taste."

"My taste and sensibility have only been refined thanks to the Chamberlain's own passing words of guidance, exactly like this."

I'd fed the control freak's sense of efficacy, and, sure enough, he seemed to be in considerably better spirits.

The Chamberlain threw open the door to the audience hall.