Chapter 1: The Proposal

Act 1: A Hell of a Wedding

"I will not tolerate this," Cecile exclaimed through clenched teeth as she stared out of the coach window, fixated on the breathtaking expanse of the distant white castle.

The maids seated across from her were at a loss for how to console her, but their presence was inconsequential to Cecile's anger. She didn't spare them a glance.

Her gaze shifted to her own attire—a meticulously crafted lace bridal veil, a white silk dress so smooth that one's hand would glide effortlessly over it, and at the dress's hem, an array of shimmering crystalline pearls.

Yes, Cecile was clad in a wedding gown.

She was on her way to her own wedding, yet happiness eluded her entirely. The closer she got to the castle, the more constricted her throat felt. As her coach passed through the city gates, a band that had been eagerly awaiting her arrival began playing music. Although the melody was beautiful, it resonated in Cecile's ears like a funeral march.

If I enter that place... I shall perish.. The thought sent a shiver down her spine, draining the color from her face.

"Save me..." The plea escaped Cecile's lips unconsciously, her desperation evident.

However, the maids across from her did not inquire about her distress. They merely nodded, their faces reflecting understanding and pity.

One of them finally spoke, saying, "We will suffer dire consequences if you flee."

Cecile ground her teeth audibly, exasperated by the lack of consolation. She shot a fierce glare at the bouquet she clutched in her hands. The reason behind her grinding teeth on what should have been the happiest day of her life was simple.

"Why must I marry the emperor?"

The man slated to be her husband posed a significant problem.

Emperor Estian.

He was the groom chosen for Cecile's impending nuptials. However, the issue lay in the fact that he was the most despicable and deranged tyrant on the continent. So much so that no one would bat an eye if he were to murder his bride on their wedding day.

"How did everything come to this?" Cecile pondered, recollecting the events from a month ago.

* * *

Cecile was the illegitimate child of the King of Navitan. The king had fathered her during a drunken stupor with one of the maids, resulting in a child who bore an uncanny resemblance to the royal family with her beautiful platinum hair and green eyes. When Cecile was born, the king had no choice but to acknowledge her as his offspring.

However, this did not guarantee Cecile a life filled with love and acceptance.

Her mother, a maid, passed away shortly after giving birth, leaving Cecile to be sent to a royal villa tucked away in a corner of the palace. Though she received some minimal education befitting her status as a princess, her treatment was scarcely better than that of a maid when compared to the princesses residing in the main palace. Yet, Cecile did not harbor feelings of injustice.

"At least I am acknowledged as a princess," she thought to herself.

Had she not been acknowledged, she would have been cast aside from the palace as an infant. In a way, her life was comfortable. The king never summoned her, and her days passed by uneventfully within the confines of her villa. It consisted of eating, sleeping, and playing without having to toil. Though she occasionally found the monotony tiresome, it was still preferable to a life of hardship.

Sometimes, Cecile would offer flowers at her mother's gravesite tucked away in a corner of the royal villa, whispering to herself.

"Mother, I shall continue to live like this, destined to be married off to an elderly, wealthy military aristocrat for a second marriage, won't I?"

The only world Cecile knew existed within the pages of the books she read since she couldn't venture outside freely. Even those books were predominantly brought in by the villa's maids.

"This is how it always unfolds in books," she mused.

Had her mother still been alive, she would have berated Cecile, exclaiming, "All you read are romance novels!" before playfully smacking her on the back. But the dead have no voice, so Cecile continued to mutter to herself in solitude.

"But I do not live in a fairy tale. There is no chance that a forced marriage partner will turn out to be a devoted, incredibly handsome grand duke from the frigid north..."

Cecile had read the novels enjoyed by the villa's maids and had become familiar with the fate that awaited a princess in her position. An illegitimate princess who lacked love yet possessed all the qualities of royalty—an excellent commodity for the king to sell without guilt.

If only she had been born plain or unattractive; then, she might have felt a modicum of security.

Cecile wept, clinging to a mirror.

"Unnecessarily pretty!"

Even Cecile found her reflection in the mirror undeniably beautiful, though she would hesitate to admit it. Her porcelain skin, crimson lips, emerald eyes reminiscent of summer forests, and graceful figure—there was an allure that she couldn't deny.

"I will fetch a high price indeed. But why does the king reap the benefits?"

Cecile felt a sense of irritation whenever she gazed upon her own reflection. However, this did not imply that she desired to be unattractive. Her days passed with this conflicting sentiment until one fateful day when the attendants of the main palace forcefully intruded upon her royal villa.

"Come immediately! Release me, I say!"

The attendants informed Cecile that the king had summoned her and practically dragged her away against her will.

"Why are you doing this?"

"You will understand once you arrive. It is something favorable."

"As if. If it were so favorable, why can't you meet my eyes?" Cecile scoffed.

As expected, her expectations were met. Her father, whom she was encountering for the first time after twenty long years, the King of Navitan, began spouting nonsense as soon as he laid eyes on her.

"Congratulations. Your marriage has been arranged!"

"Pleasure to meet you, Father," Cecile greeted the King of Navitan politely, despite meeting him as if for the first time.

Though she had never experienced joy or affection upon meeting her father, they possessed not even the slightest resemblance, save for their platinum hair and green eyes. Perhaps Cecile's mother, whose face she had never laid eyes upon, had been an extraordinary beauty.

"You wished to speak about my marriage partner?"

"Indeed. I have been worried sick that you have yet to wed despite reaching the age of maturity..."

"Oh, please." Cecile interjected.

"Pardon?"

"Please, continue."

"Hem-hem. As I was saying, I was searching far and wide for a suitable groom when I unexpectedly received a remarkable marriage proposal."

"From whom might that be?" Cecile inquired, preparing herself for whatever name might emerge.

"To my utmost surprise, the letter came from..." The king's voice trailed off teasingly.

"From?"

"Emperor Estian!"

"Ahhhhhhhhh!" A scream erupted from Cecile's lips upon hearing the name, despite having braced herself for it. "What? Emperor Estian?"

"Oh, how thrilled you must be to the point of shrieking!" the king chuckled.

"N-no, hold on a second!"

"What is it?"

"Are you out of your mind? Why don't you just kill me right here and now?" Cecile shrieked, disregarding the king's status.

She had resigned herself to being sold off as a wife to a suitable nobleman, but this was beyond her expectations. Who was Emperor Estian? He was renowned as the continent's most deranged individual—a notorious tyrant.

Upon ascending the throne at the tender age of sixteen, he had personally executed countless relatives, showing no mercy to anyone, regardless of whether they were from his maternal or paternal side. Treason was the charge they were convicted of, and the emperor displayed their severed heads at the entrance of the imperial palace, as if putting them on display to instill fear in the populace. One audacious official had dared to denounce him for committing a grave moral transgression. In response, the emperor apprehended the official and his family, and put an end to their lives without batting an eye.

"You wouldn't have dared to speak so boldly if you had tasted the poison I consumed. So I made sure to have it prepared. I first fed the poison to your eldest son,” he had said.

The official's face turned pale at the emperor's words.

"Why the long face? It seems as though you know the excruciating pain inflicted by this poison."

"Y-Your Majesty, I..."

Meanwhile, the eldest son convulsed in agony, bleeding from every orifice until he breathed his last. The emperor tossed a sword and a bottle of poison to the official's second son and spoke:

"Make your choice. Kill your father, and you shall live. Fail to do so, and you too shall taste that poison."

The official's second son witnessed his deceased brother and immediately picked up the sword, plunging it into his trembling father. Wounded, the official crawled on the floor. The emperor gazed at him with indifference and spoke in a low voice.

"It seems he still clings to life. Administer the poison to him."

"Your Majesty, please..."

"What a fitting end—to die knowing the potency of the poison he had ordered," the emperor remarked, unfazed.

Only then did people realize that the crawling official was someone who had conspired against the emperor's life. From that moment onward, dissenting voices within the empire were silenced. After assuming the throne, the emperor waged wars with a fervor as if the entire world were his arch-nemesis.

Ten years later, no country dared to defy him. The same fate befell the Kingdom of Navitan. Yet, why? How?

"W-why on earth would Emperor Estian send a marriage proposal to a small kingdom like ours?" Cecile struggled to comprehend the situation.

The continent was brimming with countries where he could find a suitable bride—countries other than Navitan. So, why had he chosen this particular kingdom?

"A small kingdom? Our beloved Navitan is anything but—"

"Alright, enough. Just tell me why he sent the letter!"

"T-that is... um..." The king stammered, intimidated by Cecile's forceful exclamation.

He showed Cecile the marriage proposal letter adorned with the emperor's seal. Cecile accepted it and began reading. Moments later, she erupted with incredulity.

"I never even considered marriage, but now I have to get married because people are meddling in my affairs and I don't have an heir? And he chose the kingdom by a lottery? Furthermore, what is this? Send him a healthy princess capable of bearing children because he needs an heir? What does he think I am? A breeding animal?"

"Such insolence! It is a letter from the emperor. Watch your words!"

"Do you really think I care at this point?" Cecile retorted, flinging the letter to the ground.

The King of Navitan hastily picked it up and handed it to the head chamberlain with great care.

"Regardless, you must go. I find solace in hearing your voice filled with vigor and determination. Come. Why are you all standing there? Make preparations for the princess's departure!"

"Since when have you treated me as a princess?"

"From this day forward!"

The attendants seized Cecile and pulled her away at the king's command. As they made their way out, her newfound siblings—brothers and sisters she had never met before—waved farewell from the sidelines.

"I love you, Cecile. We shall never forget you!"

"I will remember you, Cecile!"

"It was nice to meet you, but let's not cross paths again!"

"I will take care of your burial!"

"Remember me, huh? I can't even distinguish who's who! Setting that aside, is that how you bid farewell to a half-sister you are meeting for the first time? Curse you instead!"

The princes and princesses, with their matching platinum hair and green eyes, bid Cecile farewell as she was forcefully taken away. Naturally, Cecile responded by raising her middle finger toward them.

* * *

"That was a month ago," Cecile reflected.

Soon after, she was transported to the Empire. For a month, she resided in a mansion near the imperial palace, immersed in lessons on imperial etiquette, history, and even matters pertaining to the bedroom. Her tutors couldn't help but express sympathy.

"I pray that you endure this ordeal."

“…”

Finally, the day of the wedding arrived, and her tutors bid her farewell with tearful eyes as she boarded the coach. Their actions resembled less "sending off the bride" and more "dispatching a coffin for a funeral."

"I'm not dead yet! Though I soon will be," Cecile thought bitterly.

While staying in the mansion, Cecile heard countless stories about Emperor Estian. Most of them revolved around his penchant for taking lives. She also learned that the people of the Empire eagerly awaited the day Cecile, the emperor's future wife, would meet her demise.

Lost in her thoughts, Cecile's carriage came to a halt. Imperial attendants opened the door, revealing a scene of countless soldiers lined up along a red carpet, petals fluttering in the air. Cecile drew in a sharp breath at the sight.

To think that she would meet her death amidst such grandeur.

Anger coursed through her veins. She had led a quiet life, confined within her royal villa, prepared to be sold off. But was it not excessive to send her off to her death in such a manner?

"You think you can live a comfortable life after disposing of me like this?"

Cecile seethed, directing her fury toward the Kingdom of Navitan.

"If I am to die anyway, I refuse to go down without causing a commotion," she resolved. "If we couldn't be together in life, let us meet in death, Father. And you, my dear half-siblings."

"Princess Cecile?" A confused imperial attendant called out when Cecile showed no intention of disembarking from the carriage.

"His Majesty awaits you. You must hurry—"

A mischievous smile tugged at the corner of Cecile's mouth. "Well then, if I am to die anyway, I demand that His Imperial Majesty come to personally escort me."

And so, her journey into madness began.

* * *

A very long time ago, there was something Cecile said in one of her conversations with the maids at the royal villa.

“Someday, I wanna do something that'll make others wonder 'Is she crazy?' at least once. Whatever happens, don't you think it'd be fun?”