The Princess's Invitation
And just as the lady-in-waiting had intended, Princess Roella quieted down, her expression turning haughty as she spoke with the air of someone who had known it all along.
"Of course. There’s no way Ezekiel would be interested in a woman like that."
"Even if you combined thousands of men in this world, they wouldn't measure up to the Duke of Schwaben. Please, don't pay any mind to such a woman."
Roella nodded. The lady-in-waiting was right. That woman was nothing.
She tried to think that way, but it didn't mean her irritation vanished entirely. Upon closer reflection, there was something about the lady-in-waiting’s words that stuck in her craw.
"Are you saying that while other men don't compare to Ezekiel, that woman is enough to stand on par with me?"
"Oh, n-no, that’s not it at all! I meant she’s someone not even worth your concern. How could she ever dare to compare herself to a Princess?"
"Hmph!"
Roella had thought the same, but it still left a bitter taste in her mouth.
She always needed reassurance. She understood the political reasons, the relationship between the House of Schwaben and herself—all of that was clear. Ezekiel would be her man.
And yet... no, perhaps it was precisely because she knew it so well that she needed the constant confirmation.
The premier lady of high society should be her, and she was. In this empire, what woman could possibly be better than the one and only Imperial Princess?
Even so, she had to verify it, over and over again.
"It might be fun to summon her once."
When Roella said this, her ladies-in-waiting were taken aback. It wasn't entirely surprising; they had a premonition that this might happen ever since Lady Layla became the talk of the town.
The lady-in-waiting, who had been brushing Roella’s prized, dark-toned blonde hair, spoke up cautiously.
"She is a woman of too low a status for you to meet, Your Highness. Wouldn't it be better to leave her be?"
"She’s a performer, isn't she? Didn't she do opera? I’ll grant her a spot in the salon, so tell her to come and sing a song."
Roella replied as if it were nothing. Another lady-in-waiting grew even more flustered and spoke hurriedly.
"That is merely a rumor, Your Highness. If she is a relative of the House of Andex, she is a noble in her own right; we cannot treat her like a common entertainer."
"It’s the trend these days. The very one that Lady Layla created."
"That may be so, but..."
There was a vast difference between playing at opera in a private gathering of friends and summoning someone of lower station to sing on command. Of course, it was clear the Princess intended to insult her and degrade Lady Layla’s existence.
Roella continued, her face perfectly composed.
"Mother hasn't been in the best of moods lately, so I think it would be good to invite her and create a pleasant atmosphere. I hear Lady Layla’s troupe has a stellar reputation, so the troupe leader must be even better at singing."
It was a nonsensical logic, but the ladies-in-waiting realized they couldn't stop her. If that was the case, their role was to subtly adjust the plan so that Roella’s decision wouldn't be perceived as excessive.
The lady-in-waiting fanning her spoke sweetly.
"If it is an opportunity to have an audience with the Empress, Lady Layla will surely be delighted."
"She should be."
Roella said it as if it were a matter of course.
The Imperial Princess Roella requests the presence of Lady Layla at the Imperial Palace for a private salon performance.
By Order of Her Imperial Highness, Princess Roella
The Princess’s invitation was delivered immediately to the House of Andex.
Countess Margarita of Andex carried it herself to the detached villa where Lady Layla was staying.
"Welcome. Has something happened?"
Lady Layla—or rather, Olivia—who had been sitting in the villa’s parlor writing something, stood up to welcome Margarita warmly. However, seeing the Countess’s stiff expression, she asked with curiosity.
Margarita handed her the letter. It was a polite gesture, almost too formal for a distant niece.
"An invitation has arrived from the Princess."
"I see."
Olivia took the invitation, read the exterior of the envelope, and replied calmly.
"There is no need to be so nervous, Aunt. It is the news we have been waiting for, isn't it?"
"Yes."
Margarita replied, yet she could not entirely hide her tension.
It had been roughly four months since Olivia had first sought her out. The letter that had come beforehand, stating her intention to visit, had read:
If you remember Gisella with longing, please meet me.
That was the name of her younger sister who had gone missing during the Empress assassination incident some twenty years ago.
No body had been found, but she was presumed dead. That event had left deep, permanent scars on Margarita and her family.
Gisella had been a bright, cheerful child. Margarita still remembered how overjoyed she had been when she became a lady-in-waiting to the Empress. Their father had worried that young Gisella might get caught up in the complex political situation, but she had proudly stated her ambitions.
"Just you wait. The Empress will come to rely on me greatly. Ten years from now, she will say that there is no one else she can entrust with her work but me."
Though they called her naive, their father and mother had felt relieved.
Less than three years later, that tragedy occurred. Gisella had been only twenty-three at the time. Their mother had screamed that they must at least find her body, but even that wish could not be openly expressed.
Margarita had lived her life trying to forget. It felt as though she had only just managed to put it behind her, now that her own daughter had reached the age Gisella was back then.
Yet, she never imagined she would hear that name again.
Olivia, who had come to find her, had greeted her and immediately pulled an earring from her pocket. It was one Margarita had gifted her, and the only piece they had managed to recover when she went missing.
Because she possessed the other half, there was no room to suspect it was a replica. The two were a perfect pair.
"How do you have this..."
"I kept it as my mother’s memento. She told me she received it from her sister on her twentieth birthday. I heard you even chose the gemstones yourself."
It was the truth. Margarita stared at her with an expression of disbelief.
"You... are you Gisella’s daughter?"
It was unbelievable. Where could the missing Gisella have secretly married and given birth to a child? That couldn't be. That child had vanished during the assassination of the former Empress. Not because she had run off for a love affair.
At the same time, Margarita realized the source of the déjà vu she had felt toward Olivia from the very beginning. In that moment, she had to clamp a hand over her mouth to keep from screaming as the full weight of the truth hit her.
Gisella had fulfilled her duty to the very end. Fearing she might be discovered, she could not return to her family; the twenty-three-year-old sister had fled alone, clutching her baby, hiding away, and raising her so magnificently.
The nights they spent sharing stories of the one they missed were filled with tears.
The Gisella that Olivia spoke of was different from the cheerful, somewhat naive young lady Margarita had known. She was a benevolent, kind, and cultured noblewoman, overflowing with wit. Looking at Olivia, one could see that she had lived wonderfully, not just as a lady-in-waiting to the Empress, but as a mother.
She had kept her loyalty and faith, and she had done her duty as a human being. Though the only ones in the world who recognized it were the late Count Lutgarth and Olivia, it was nonetheless honorable.
Margarita was proud of that Gisella, and she felt sorry for her. She was at an age where she deserved a little more protection from her family.
Nevertheless, at the end of that long story and the tears, she had no choice but to ask:
"What do you intend to do, Your Highness, by coming to find me?"
She was the Countess of Andex, a woman with her own children. The whereabouts of an Imperial Princess who had been missing until now was no small matter.
Olivia spoke with a calm, quiet demeanor that felt almost cold.
"I must become the Emperor. Help me."
She did not say she 'wanted to be.' In her blue eyes, as she said she 'must become,' there was nothing but certainty.
It was the hour when the dawn had already broken, and the room was filled with light.