The Imperial Palace
The Imperial Palace
「To Rupert Somerset.
Rupert, second son of Count Somerset, listen well. I had occasion to examine those picture books you created. They possessed a certain charm and elegance and were quite impressive.
However, why ... omitted ... therefore the ending must absolutely not be so.
In my view, the queen ought to receive a punishment befitting her crimes so that readers may also be satisfied ... omitted ... and thus what I wish to convey is this.
Iolin Bell.」
'What is this? Am I dreaming?'
I knelt to receive the letter delivered by the imperial princess's chief attendant, and even as I slowly read it, it didn't feel real.
The chief attendant, an old man with hair streaked white, glared at me as I read, his eyes burning with a ferocity unbefitting his age, and my heart felt like it might burst.
How in the world had 'Iolin Bell,' the imperial princess called the Flower of the Empire, read a picture book I wrote and sent me a letter?
'Come to think of it, that photo of the custom edition winner that the merchant company head gave me last time...'
The 'person' who had sent me a lengthy letter of complaint saying they didn't like the ending.
There had been no name, just a photo, but I should have realized from that.
Black hair and black eyes, a noble bearing. Of course, there are other noble families like that, but is there a family that would make the merchant company head tremble with nerves? No, there isn't.
There is only one place that could.
The imperial family of the empire, the 'Bell' clan.
Now the pieces of the puzzle were falling into place one by one. That merchant company head—was the bastard selling me out?
If I had my way, I'd grab him by the collar and shake him, but first I had to maintain the appearance of respectfully receiving the princess's letter from her chief attendant.
The anonymous letter from the princess that I'd tossed onto the reception room desk suddenly came to mind.
'They haven't cleared it away yet, right?'
If there was one silver lining, it was that the princess, not the Third Imperial Prince—the male lead—had taken an interest in my picture book.
I calmed myself with the thought that the princess had barely any presence in the original web novel anyway, so it wouldn't be a big problem.
"I will send a reply as quickly as possible."
After politely sending off the princess's chief attendant who had delivered the letter, I immediately summoned the artisans.
Because Her Highness the Princess was dissatisfied with the ending. I needed a new way to satisfy her.
"So I have no choice but to make a new one."
To think I'd have to make another book because of the imperial family's ruthless oppression.
As a citizen of a democratic nation, my blood was boiling. The imperial family of this feudal world truly had no blood or tears.
***
In truth, few people know that the Brothers Grimm fairy tales, including Snow White, are quite hardcore.
I myself had been shocked when I learned the true endings of the Brothers Grimm tales.
Thinking it would be deeply problematic if children saw them, I had made the widely known sanitized versions for the public.
"To think I'd have to release the seal."
Honestly, the basic framework barely changed.
But I added the scenes I'd omitted for being too cruel—the stepmother queen disguising herself as a peddler and strangling Snow White, or gifting her a poisoned comb to try to kill her...
Well, scenes like that.
Because only then would 'that scene' in the ending truly shine.
"To think I'd get summoned while drinking a beer I'd been saving."
"A rare cozy family meal...."
"The bouquet I prepared for a date, ugh."
As I diligently wrote the new story and drew the illustrations, I kept hearing crying from somewhere.
Surely our artisans wouldn't cry just because I called them back on the first day of their vacation. It was probably Ada whining.
Think about it. Would those stubborn, strong-willed artisans cry just because their break was taken away?
I was even offering 1.5 times the pay since it was overtime. If it were me, I'd probably weep with joy.
'Ah, maybe the artisans are crying from happiness.'
I used the sound of crying as ASMR and spurred on my drawing speed.
Because if another letter from the princess arrived, or if she came in person, the mansion would be filled with crying.
***
Iolin Bell.
The only daughter of the empire's emperor. A princess renowned from childhood not only for her beauty but for her wisdom, bearing the epithet Flower of the Empire.
She was gentle to those beneath her and laughed off mistakes, so much so that people within the imperial palace praised her as a goddess incarnate.
However, even that princess had something she would never overlook.
Those who trusted in their own power and treated others recklessly were thoroughly punished, regardless of their rank.
There was a famous story about how, when Count Praios, a former court count, was caught trying to shift his own mistakes onto the imperial maids,
the princess personally intervened and petitioned the emperor to save the maids, then had Count Praios punished and stripped of his position as court count.
"Your Highness, a letter and a book have arrived from the Somerset Count's House."
The princess's chief attendant, 'Aiton,' respectfully handed over the letter and book he had received.
Presumptuous as it was, Aiton thought of the princess as his own granddaughter.
Having watched over her from the moment she was born until now, he prided himself on knowing the princess's true nature better than anyone—even better than the emperor.
The princess, whose gentle and soft personality gave way to a cool-headed demeanor whenever she dealt with official matters, had impressed even him, her chief attendant.
But lately, the princess had shown emotional behavior so often that Aiton could hardly believe his own eyes.
Even now, the way she hurried to open the letter and book she had received from him was utterly devoid of her usual dignity.
'This isn't it! How could you disappoint me like this?'
He suddenly recalled the princess's appearance not long ago, when she had written a letter and ordered him to deliver it directly to the Somerset Count's House.
He remembered that the princess's behavior had changed ever since she obtained the 'picture book' that had become a topic of conversation in social circles.
When he first handed her the picture book <Cinderella>, she had not yet been like this.
'This book is quite valuable, more than I expected. It would be good for children, especially girls, to read.'
She had coolly assessed the book's value and said that distributing it to the commoner class would be educationally beneficial.
But after that, she carried the book around with her and read it several more times.
'The more I think about it, the angrier I get. Why is the fate of the stepmother and stepsisters not depicted?'
Whether she was eating, drinking tea, or taking a walk, she would suddenly express her anger, apparently dissatisfied with the book's content, especially the ending.
Then, when word spread that a new picture book was scheduled for publication, he informed her, and she ordered him to personally obtain one of the custom editions, of which only ten copies were being sold.
Naturally, as it was an order, he went to the merchant company selling the books and quietly showed them a nameplate bearing the imperial seal.
From what he had heard from other nobles, the merchant company head had insisted that there could be absolutely no cheating and that sales would be by lottery only—but he simply said he would quietly prepare a book.
'You want Her Highness's photo and name? That could be somewhat problematic.'
'Hmm... Even if we conceal Her Highness the Princess's name, we need a photo to make a custom edition. Otherwise, it would be no different from a hardcover edition.'
Her Highness the Princess's photo and name. It wasn't that he couldn't provide them, but according to Her Highness's wishes, he decided to hand over only the photo.
Because she had said she did not wish to reveal her name.
Instead, following the order to deliver a letter, he simply handed the merchant company head an anonymous letter written in Her Highness's own hand.
About two weeks passed like that.
On the night he delivered the completed book he had received from the merchant company head to Her Highness the Princess, a girlish shriek leaked from her chambers.
'This wretch! You ignore a true reader's counsel to the very end! Do you mean to frustrate me to death?!'
According to the maid waiting outside the chambers, she was startled and went inside to find Her Highness the Princess clutching the book and trembling.
And the next day, the order to deliver the problematic handwritten letter came down to him—perhaps that was only natural.
He couldn't open it, so he didn't know its contents, but he had a guess.
Considering the expression the man wore the entire time he knelt and read Her Highness the Princess's letter, it was probably certain.
'Rupert Somerset.'
What he knew about the Somerset Count's House was that the current head, the Somerset Count, was a rather good-natured man, and that—he didn't know the details—the family's circumstances were somewhat difficult due to failed investments.
His eldest son had run away years ago to join the war against the Kingdom of Silvania and had been missing ever since,
and the second son, Rupert Somerset, was the de facto heir.
There had been rumors that he was weak-willed, but the man he actually met gave no such impression at all.
Most ordinary noble families would tremble at the mere arrival of the imperial chief attendant such as himself.
But the man responded calmly, without any particular change in expression.
Nor did he commit any breach of etiquette or courtesy; he simply received the letter from Her Highness the Princess naturally.
The only time his expression changed was when he read the letter's contents.
Who in the world would call a man who furrows his brow while reading a letter from Her Highness the Princess weak-willed?
"Yes! Now this is a proper story. So you were capable of it all along, and you've been tormenting me."
Her Highness the Princess, who had been examining the newly delivered book closely, seemed greatly satisfied with something, and wore a smile rather than the sensitive reactions she had shown recently.
"Are you satisfied, Your Highness?"
"I am. It was a truly excellent ending. An ending where the villainous queen is forced into red-hot iron shoes and dances like mad until she dies."
Chills.
Aiton got goosebumps at the story that flowed from Her Highness the Princess's lips.
Red-hot iron shoes? Forcing someone to wear such things and struggle until death?
Aiton remembered the original Snow White ending with everyone forgiven and living happily ever after. Had Rupert really come up with such a gruesome new version?
"Now this is a proper story. I would like to bestow a reward upon that man."
It seemed that a story he found utterly horrifying was satisfying to Her Highness the Princess.
Anyway, a reward.
He didn't think that cold-seeming second son of Somerset would show greed for material things like money.
"Knowing the man as I do, I suspect he would value something honorable."
"A good thought. I had originally intended to grant a monetary reward, but if that's the case, then 'that' would be suitable."
Indeed. The princess, no longer agitated, had become cool-headed again. If it was 'that,' even that cold-seeming second son would surely be impressed and pleased.
For it was not something material like money, but an object that displayed a noble's honor.