Chapter 6

Pellicity, the capital city of the Hascatore Empire, was a testament to the empire’s power and strength. It was a vast, sprawling city famed for its picturesque beauty.

It boasted the finest infrastructure and a strong defense system, which had allowed the city to withstand enemy invasion for over a thousand years. Impressive historical monuments were scattered along the streets, well-preserved and available for all to see.

Every year, countless numbers of tourists visited and marveled at the sights, such as Pellicity University, which had existed even before the birth of the empire, Famblico Avenue, a street boasting the fashion center of the world, and Monterine Cathedral, a place of pilgrimage that was over a thousand years old.

Among all of these renowned sites, the most famous of all was the imperial palace. Thirty thousand workers had labored for over ten years to build Hascatore Palace, which was constructed of the purest white marble and sat in the middle of a vast botanical garden. Boasting 170,000 square meters of land and architecture, it was truly the crowning glory of the empire.

Only the imperial family and select members of the high nobility were granted the privilege of access to the palace, and of course, the luxury residences surrounding the palace gardens could only be purchased by those who possessed the right amount of wealth and connections.

Biancasta Weiss was one of those fortunate souls who resided in a grand house close to the gardens. At the moment, however, the curtains on the window were firmly closed, blocking the scenic view that was the pride and joy of her household.

“My lady? It is time for you to depart.”

Biancasta walked out of the room with heavy steps, straight into a carriage that waited for her at the front entrance. A moment later, she was on her way, heading down the familiar path that led to the palace entrance.

Are we really this close to the event already? Pellicity had more than double its usual number of tourists, as there was to be a grand celebration in four days’ time—a birthday festival that would be a week-long holiday to commemorate the birth of the imperial princess. For this important event, the back gates of the palace would be opened wide, and bread, meat, and wines would be distributed to the poor. A different ball was to be hosted every night for the nobility to attend, and the entire city was in frenzied preparation.

Biancasta, as well, was headed to the palace in order to prepare herself for the upcoming balls.

“Bianci!”

After rolling through the golden gates of the palace, she stepped out of the carriage to the sound of a sunny voice calling her name. Biancasta forced a smile on her face and turned toward the source. A charming lady with shining tresses of bouncing pink curls was racing over to her with a look of eager anticipation.

“I’ve been waiting for you! Come, quick—let’s get fitted for our gowns!”

The slim, slight lady gripped Biancasta’s hand and dragged her forward with surprising strength. She was the center of attention of the upcoming celebrations—the imperial princess, Aileen Hascatore.

“I already chose the cut and style, so we only need to choose the colors. You’ll be so surprised when you see them. They’re so pretty!”

“Yes, Your Highness,” murmured Biancasta. “I am very excited to see them.”

Although she uttered the correct statements, she was anything but excited. She only wished she could turn right back around and go home. She followed Aileen into a vast dressing room where a group of ladies from the high nobility were clustered, as well as a team of seamstresses cutting and sewing fabric.

All of the noble ladies’ faces hardened as Biancasta entered. Not one of them greeted her. She was used to it by now, but still, it was difficult to tolerate. Her head was low as she followed the princess into the center of the room.

“Look,” said Aileen eagerly, “Isn’t this absolutely darling?”

Aileen held up a sketchbook and chattered away in a bright voice. “This is the Eleanor cut, the most current trend for gowns. I’m going to give everyone a dress of this design. If we use silk from the Balthaim Mountains and add some custom-made lace, won’t it look simply divine?”

“Yes, it’s going to be very beautiful,” intoned Biancasta. “I so look forward to seeing it when it’s complete.”

“Thank you, Your Highness!” squealed the other ladies in excitement, all clamoring to praise the princess for her taste and generosity.

The dress was indeed the height of fashion, and every material was of the rarest quality.

“And this is going to be my dress, Bianci. What do you think?”

Aileen held out another design—a delicate white gown that was noticeably more simple than the others. Biancasta’s smile was slightly bitter. It seemed to be a truly generous gesture to offer significantly more elaborate gowns to this circle of ladies compared to her own design, but it was actually a calculated maneuver.

As it was a personal gift from the princess, the ladies who received a gown would have no choice but to wear it for the ball. No matter how fashionable the gowns, they would all be wearing the exact same design, albeit in different colors. Therefore, they would all blend in with each other, no different from a group of attendants, or even a line of backup dancers.

If every young woman of note was dressed in the same style, then the princess would shine from the outset merely by wearing a gown different from the rest. Biancasta, however, did not dare to say this out loud.

“The design suits you well, Your Highness,” she said instead. “All eyes will be on you that night.”

It was a compliment with a hint of thorns, and the gathered women glanced in askance at Biancasta. Aileen, however, didn’t notice. She smiled brightly.

“I hope so,” she said fervently. “I really want to look beautiful that night. This party is special, because... well, you know...”

Unable to finish her sentence, the princess shyly ducked her head. Lady Helen, the daughter of Count Meister, eagerly filled in the rest.

“Count Ryan will be attending,” she said slyly.

At that, all of the ladies clapped their hands, gave muffled shrieks, and jostled each other with excitement.

“He may be attending, but who knows if I will even get to speak with him?”

Aileen looked worried, but Biancasta spoke up.

“There’s no need to worry, Your Highness. Even if you cannot say a single word to him, the two of you will end up married anyhow.”

A cold chill suddenly settled upon the room. Biancasta mentally chided herself. She really struggled to stop her habit of saying the direct (sometimes unpleasant) truth, especially under the guise of pretty or kind words.

“Er, I shall... go fix my hair,” she mumbled, a sorry excuse as she hurriedly escaped to the adjoining powder room.

It was always like this. Biancasta, who was blunt and rather straightforward, had a hard time getting along with the rest of her peers, and her words usually caused frequent pauses of reproachable silence in whichever group she was unfortunate to be a part of. She was often filled with both self-contempt and extreme exhaustion.

I hate these types of pretentious gatherings. Aileen Hascatore had confessed that she was in love with Ryan Calabria three years ago. Although her admission had seemingly been wrangled out of her during a game of truth-telling, Biancasta had seen it as an extremely cunning tactic.

Most of the ladies present—as well as the majority of young women throughout the empire—had unrequited crushes on the elusive knight commander. As soon as the princess announced her feelings, however, hardly any young lady would dare to make her own feelings known.

No matter how kind Aileen was to them, she was still the imperial princess, and there was not a single one of them who’d dare risk her enmity by presenting herself as a rival for his affections. Therefore, with that one timid confession, Aileen had succeeded in vanquishing any likely competitors in the marriage market.

The count’s status made him ineligible for all but the highest ranking ladies. Biancasta, who had been fourteen years old at the time, had secretly expressed her true thoughts on the matter to her closest friend, another young lady among their circle of acquaintances. It was supposed to remain between them, but the rumors had started to spread.

Her friend had told her later that she’d had no choice, that she was part of the princess’s inner circle where they revealed all of their secrets to each other. Fingers had started pointing at Biancasta—that she was also in love with the count, that she was deliberately obstructing the princess. She had already been something of an outcast among high society, mostly ignored, but with this rumor she had quickly become a villainess.

Actually, it would have been better if things had remained that way. If she’d been sequestered at home in order to avoid encountering the princess, she would have been lonely, yes, but she wouldn’t be as miserable as she was now. Instead, all sorts of invitations had kept fluttering her way because Aileen had insisted on “protecting” her and continuing to keep her as a friend.

“Why does the princess insist on remaining friends with such a horrid girl? I don’t understand.”

Although everyone said as such, Aileen kept insisting that Biancasta was her most precious friend.

“Biancasta only made a mistake. She didn’t have bad intentions.”

“I’m perfectly fine. Pray, don’t vilify poor Bianci like that.”

People hurried to praise the princess—kind, beautiful Aileen, who was affectionate, gentle, and oh so modest despite her exalted position.

Biancasta, however, was afraid of her. The princess had been lovely since birth, and her courteous manners and winsome ways didn’t appear to be premeditated actions. She never got angry, never raised her voice, and she was unfailingly polite, always saying the right thing. But how was everything she did so perfectly smooth and systematic? Why did every person who interacted with the princess always hide their true selves, their true feelings from her?

Biancasta had refused the first few invitations that the princess had sent her way. Soon after, strange things had begun to happen around her. Her most prized gown had disappeared and somehow ended up in the slums. A necklace that one of the ladies had worn to a gathering had been stolen, only to end up being discovered in Biancasta’s jewelry cases.

One morning she’d woken up to her neighbor’s dog swinging by the neck, dead, tied to a limb of one of the trees on her estate. The greatest tragedy for her was that each one of these incidents made Biancasta out as the perpetrator somehow. She’d always plead her innocence, often spending days locked up in her room crying her eyes out, but one day she’d had a sudden thought.

There were just too many nobles who spent time in Aileen Hascatore’s presence who ended up with horrible fates—at the least, banishment from society, or their parents’ prominent positions diminished, and at the most, outright disappearance, imprisonment, or even execution. Some of them were from the most prominent families, even extended members of the imperial family, and it happened to both men and women alike. Of course, Aileen didn’t look to have had anything to do with these strange occurrences...

However, it was noticeable that anyone who’d crossed her in some way experienced a peculiar but predictable demise.

—I hear you are experiencing difficulty. Please, let us meet so I may be of comfort to you.

The princess continued sending Biancasta such notes until Biancasta finally decided to pay her a visit at the palace.

“Promise me that you’ll never betray me and I’ll protect you,” the princess had declared in a most affectionate tone. Biancasta had had no choice but to comply.

This promise became a vow, of sorts, and then it started to act as a shackle. Biancasta became the princess’s right-hand companion, faithfully guarding her side, all the while still bearing the weight of judgment for the atrocious deeds she had not committed.

Aileen Hascatore was a frightening woman—she would do whatever it took to get her hands on what she wanted, and Biancasta could tell, from telltale comments, that the princess’s sole objective during this birthday festival was to dig her claws firmly into Count Ryan Calabria.

She was the type of person who could only feel satisfied when she had what everyone else wanted, and anyone who would even dare to glance Ryan Calabria’s way during this festival would shortly disappear.

It was certain.

Biancasta had determined to never, ever show any sign of wanting something Aileen wanted. With that, she got herself under control once more and walked out of the powder room.

* * *

It was early dawn, and Ryan immediately looked beside him when he woke up in bed. There was no one there. He glanced around his room but he was the only occupant. Feeling somewhat unsettled, he lay back down.

So she left... He’d suspected that she’d be long gone once he woke up, and alas, every trace of her had vanished into the wind. It felt surreal, the events of the night... But he knew that it hadn’t been a dream—his body felt sated and relaxed, and he felt... deeply satisfied. He’d embraced her countless times before in his innermost dreams, but he’d never, ever thought he’d actually experience such sensations, let alone with her.

I never thought I would get the opportunity. He’d never expected things to unfold like that.

He settled back and stared up at the ceiling, letting himself be taken back to his memories of that night—the night when he’d first spotted Eleanor Mariche.