Straighten Your Shoulders, Your Majestic Queen - 3
“I wonder if it suits me...”
Christine muttered from the room provided for the sin of pride.
The black dress she wore was quite revealing.
Yet the question wasn’t merely whether the garment suited her. It was about the rings pinched tight on her plump thighs, the necklace resting against her collarbone, and the tiara perched atop her head.
Christine had always preferred plain things. Such lavish decorations felt utterly foreign to her.
She found herself thinking that “decoration” was a far more fitting label than “shackles.”
Artel, however, nodded with tears gathering at the corners of her eyes.
“Miss. You are truly beautiful… Miss…”
“You cry far too often. You know that, don’t you?”
“I’m sorry. This isn’t turning out the way I hoped… Christine Miss has finally become so dignified… Hooong…”
“You must remain composed. Composed.”
Artel’s reaction did not displease Christine. Instead, it pressed a heavy responsibility onto her shoulders.
With loyal subordinates who believed in her so completely, she had no choice but to work harder than ever.
“…Adrian.”
Suddenly remembering, Christine whispered the name.
She had never expected him to appear, so hope had never taken root. Yet he had shown up at the party.
She didn’t know why, and she refused to admit it, but she had to admit it now.
He had clearly saved her spirit when she was at her lowest. After his arrival, the condescending glances directed at Christine at the gathering had noticeably faded.
Artel, who had been meticulously checking every piece of jewelry and the drape of Christine’s dress, reacted instantly to the name.
“Does that man trouble you?”
Christine gave a silent nod. Having spoken his name so casually, she could not deny that he bothered her.
“He didn’t do anything suspicious.”
“I want to hear every single action he took, in detail.”
Artel began slowly retracing the events of the day.
Jekiel had behaved strangely today. It was not madness, merely an unfamiliar deviation from his usual self.
Fundamentally, Jekiel carried an overwhelming presence. His absurdly tall stature alone demanded respect, and he knew exactly how to present himself. The noble air that clung to him was only natural.
Was the sin of pride merely a decorative label? He still possessed his own unmistakable dignity.
He had met the thrones of sin with that very bearing. Meeting someone at a party was hardly unusual…
'It was too different.'
He answered those who approached him with sincere gravity. If someone did not come to him, he would cautiously step forward and speak, as though greeting every person present here.
Because the strangeness ran so deep, Artel forgot the question she had been about to ask and instead voiced one of her own.
“Um… did you reconcile with Jekiel?”
“Hmm…?”
Christine’s eyebrows twitched.
“The fact that that man appeared wearing a ring… and refrained from any action that might insult the other guests…”
-I understand. Just don’t touch Christine.
-Very well. Repay the debt to Christine later.
-Thank you. Say it to Christine yourself.
Artel had overheard every word of it. She simply did not repeat the last part.
The dissonance was too great. She had to know whether she had missed something crucial between Jekiel and Christine.
Only then could she fulfill her duties as secretary with perfect diligence—
“What does that even mean?”
The voice was not loud, yet it cut through the air like a blade. Artel’s thoughts snapped off mid-sentence.
“I’m sorry. To answer your question directly, Adrian did nothing at today’s party that would have been a nuisance to Christine.”
She bowed at a ninety-degree angle and offered a polite apology, yet no reply came from the queen.
She waited a moment longer. After all, she had committed a rude act.
But something felt wrong. No matter how long she waited, there was still no answer.
'Is she asleep…?'
Suddenly Christine’s head began to sway. During the long years Artel had served her, Christine had never once dozed off.
And then, a moment later.
Thud—
Christine collapsed forward like a felled tree. Artel’s eyes narrowed to thin slits with shock.
“Ah, Miss. Miss?”
Artel dropped to her knees and immediately checked Christine’s condition.
The silence in the room grew unbearable, and every shadow of dread wrapped itself around her.
“A… Aah…”
Christine, mouth filled with blood, grew paler by the second while her hand trembled. Artel’s body broke out in a cold sweat in an instant.
“Christine! Christine!”
Artel’s cry rang out.
.
.
Tsutsutsu—
The white snake of the Demon Realm. The sin of Envy, so named. Vivian flicked her forked tongue.
Her hand moved with clinical precision, examining Christine’s condition. Whenever she tilted her head in confusion, the subordinates—including Artel—clutched their chests tightly.
What if it went wrong? There was no way to calm the frantic pounding of their hearts.
“Tsk.”
Vivian stepped back from Christine.
“I don’t know.”
After examining her for so long, the verdict that left Vivian’s lips was simply negation.
“Christine’s condition is this bad, and you claim not to know?”
Artel had every right to press the issue.
Christine’s pale neck showed veins that had turned purple and swollen.
It was a situation that screamed poison. And in the Demon Realm, handling poison was almost exclusively the domain of the Lamia race.
“The symptoms are blatant poison, yet you speak so carelessly? Even considering our future relationship…”
“I said I don’t know. Tsk tsk… If it had been poison, I would have done something.”
“That means…”
“It is not poison.”
Haaaa. Artel’s sigh deepened.
“How can that possibly not be poison?”
Tsutsutsu. Vivian made the familiar snake-like sound and picked up a nearby vase. She then gently bit one of the petals.
The white flower slowly turned purple, withered almost instantly, turned ash-gray, and finally detached from the calyx.
“As you know, poison spreads like this. It burrows in and expands endlessly.”
“Christine’s condition right now is exactly that, isn’t it?”
“No. This isn’t something spreading… it looks more like something is being depleted.”
“Then what exactly is being depleted?”
Vivian clicked her tongue in exasperation. Artel immediately apologized.
“I’m sorry. My mind is far too urgent… There’s only about an hour left until the coronation…”
“I understand the urgency. Still, this is a matter only a same vampire should examine.”
With that, Vivian slipped out of the room without opening the door, squeezing through the gap instead.
“Same vampire… even if it’s a vampire…”
The reliable subordinates, including Artel, had witnessed the condition yet could not grasp it.
It was only natural. Christine, the highest-ranked entity, existed on an entirely different plane from themselves, mere upper-class vampires.
Artel scratched her own cheek with her nails. The force had left a wound and a bead of blood on her face.
Yet none of that mattered now.
Only an hour remained until the coronation… and Christine was finally supposed to shine… why had this happened?
Karma clearly did not exist. Seeing Christine, who had never brought harm to anyone in her entire life, suffer like this was beyond belief.
It was unfair. Artel felt an overwhelming wave of injustice.
At that moment, another subordinate spoke from behind with a firm voice. It was Kiaru.
“It is definitely a lie that it is not poison. Vivian used some trick.”
“No. The sin of pride would never speak such blatant falsehoods.”
“It is the sin of Envy. A sin that devours lies as though they were meals. It still remains.”
Artel was not without suspicion of Vivian either.
The sin of Envy, Vivian. She envied everything. She took pleasure in unraveling problems that could have been solved easily.
But right now, she had no choice but to trust those words.
“Vampire. You said a same vampire should examine the condition. Let’s begin with that.”
“It’s just a diversion to buy time. To be blunt, where is there a vampire higher than Christine?”
“That is…”
Artel rummaged through her thoughts and suddenly recalled something.
“Eh…?”
One.
There was only one. An entity equal to or greater than Christine.
◈
She boasted of having greeted every named figure at the party once.
She had not merely made contact. She had secured a solid promise that he would not touch Christine.
Even a meaningless promise was necessary. It was far more reliable than having no such promise at all.
She had been robbed of every valuable in the Demon Realm—goods, properties, treasures—but so what. From now on she would live in the human realm; such things were unnecessary.
Happy Ending
33.3% → 66.6%
“Is this the best?”
'But why isn’t the value increasing?'
Only about an hour remained until Christine’s coronation. She believed she had done everything possible, yet the percentage had not budged an inch.
At that exact moment.
“Jekiel. No, Jekiel… sir.”
A voice hesitating whether to add the honorific. Well, that was beside the point. A voice of desperate urgency reached her.
Turning, Artel stood there—visibly anxious.
“What is it?”
“Is there a moment of your time?”
“I am extremely busy.”
A lie. The moment she casually mentioned her busyness, Artel’s eyes trembled with intensity.
It was not a trivial matter. She had come because it was something only she could handle.
“However…”
That was why she was certain.
“I will not take special time. Just a moment.”
This was the key to filling the remaining percentage—the event that would come after she confronted him.