The Empress Must Shine
Marx said, "The superstructure changes according to the base structure." So, am I a man or a woman? The communists would see me as a woman, and the bourgeoisie as a man.
"……."
Stranded all alone…. It was 1854, right? Anyway, no normal person would ever dream of leaving the comforts of the 21st century for the 19th. Anyone who wants to go back in time has to be crazy. Hygiene, human rights, technology—everything's backward as hell. And what's with that double-headed eagle? I was just acting on stage! Not only did I get dumped here out of nowhere, but during a gender-free performance, my gender changed too? If only I'd landed in Rudolf's body. If I die here, is it really over…? If this is a dream….
"Death…."
I shook my head. The show must go on. I don't believe in God, but if there is one, maybe it's telling me to reenact Sisi's life, just like in the Elisabeth musical.
"Anyway… pretty."
In this unwanted business trip full of complaints, the one thing in the mirror that satisfied me was my reflection. Ah, but that's not the point. Reenacting Sisi's life shouldn't be too hard. She didn't really do much to begin with… probably. Even in the musical, Sisi's actions were just desperate struggles to escape the palace—she wasn't some world-changing hero.
"No big deal."
Or is it? The Hungarians especially loved her. The Great Compromise. Without that, she wouldn't be their most beloved figure. Fighting against Archduchess Sophie, the deaths of her children, suffocating imperial etiquette, building her own influence—isn't that the right way to see her? Let's think a bit more.
The moment a middle-aged woman entered silently through the door that opened without a sound, I realized how much of a pushover they thought I was. Her back ramrod straight, not a hair out of place, and on her black dress, the only thing shining: a diamond brooch. Sophie Archduchess. Her appearance alone told me everything about her.
She sat quietly on the chair by the bed, scanning me up and down with eyes that looked down without a trace of worry.
"Are you conscious?"
Her first words were less a question than an interrogation.
"Fainting in front of thousands of guests and envoys from across Europe—the girl who's to become empress. A disgrace to the House of Habsburg."
She launched into criticism before I could even respond. No disappointment, no anger—just pure contempt.
"You've proven to the whole world how weak and unprepared you are. I still can't understand why my son chose a child like you."
She paused, signaling to a servant with her eyes. Soon, servants piled thick books like a mountain onto a silver tray and set them on the bedside table.
"The empress does not act on personal feelings. The empress's smile is the empire's dignity, her tears a calamity for the empire, and her body a sacred vessel solely for bearing the empire's heirs."
She picked up one book and opened it before me. A complicated family tree and indecipherable text filled the pages.
"Not from today—from the moment you married, you are no longer Bavaria's Elisabeth. You are Austria's empress and the mother of the Habsburgs. You'll have to relearn everything, from how to smile, how to walk, even how to breathe. Leave your freedom to act as you please back in your homeland and forget it."
I couldn't get a word in, and as Sophie Archduchess rose to leave the room, she threw one last remark over her shoulder.
"Lessons start tomorrow morning. If you shame the family again, even my son won't be able to protect you."
The door closed, leaving only a mountain of books and suffocating pressure in the room.
What the fuck…. Am I Sisi? No, Sisi hated this too. Is this the 19th century or the 16th? Other countries were heading toward liberalism by now, right? And yet, total reactionary dinosaurs here.
As I tried to get up….
"Your Majesty."
One of the quietly standing maids stepped forward.
"There is a prescribed procedure for Her Majesty to rise from bed. Your Majesty's body is too noble to move carelessly."
I stared at her in disbelief.
"A procedure for getting up?"
"Yes, Your Majesty. First, ring the small bell on the right side of the bed to summon me, the chief lady-in-waiting. Once I approach the bedside, Your Majesty must softly say, 'It is time to rise.'"
Tone has protocol too? She continued.
"Then, two maids will support Your Majesty's arms to raise your upper body. At no point should Your Majesty's feet touch the floor; they must land precisely on the silk slippers brought by another maid. Throughout, Your Majesty's gaze must remain fixed on the Madonna icon straight ahead, offering a brief prayer for the empire's peace—that is the custom."
Custom? There's a custom for that nonsense too? Seeing my blank expression, she added in an even more businesslike tone.
"Every action of the empress ties directly to the empire's dignity. Even the slightest gesture upon waking is a ritual proving the divinity of the Habsburgs under God's grace. Have you already forgotten Archduchess Sophie's words: 'You'll have to relearn even how to breathe'?"
Already, huh. These maids are probably all Sophie's eyes and ears. Until I figure out if I have any allies in the court, I shouldn't act rashly. Bad rumors from the start could scare off potential friends.
Taking my silence as assent, the maid stepped back into perfect posture.
"Now, Your Majesty. Please lie down again, and we'll start from the beginning. The bell is on your right."
It had been just minutes since I'd bragged that reenacting Sisi's life was no big deal. Now I was trapped in a mad prison overflowing with goddamn protocols and zero freedom.
As I turned to ring the bell….
"Your gaze must face the canopy; you may not turn your body. Reach for the bell with your arm as you are."
I swallowed dryly, fumbling until I felt the cold metal. Ding-a-ling— A clear, pure hellish chime rang out.
Sisi in the musical really was nothing. After slipping on the slippers, the maid checked my posture again.
"Your Majesty, that is not the proper gait."
I'd barely taken two steps.
"The empress's steps symbolize the empire's authority. Taking wide strides like that may seem frivolous."
She demonstrated in front of me. Ghostly silent. Barely any footfalls, upper body motionless. Arms not swinging naturally but fixed as if glued to her torso.
"Maintain a stride where the toe of one shoe nearly touches the heel of the other. Gaze ten paces ahead, chin slightly tucked to preserve dignity."
She stopped, scrutinizing my posture like inspecting defective goods.
"Most importantly, glide as if flowing. Not walking, but floating over water. No one must notice your feet touching the ground. This is the basic protocol preserving the Habsburg empress's sanctity."
Damn, the musical didn't cover this. I swallowed a deep sigh, focusing every nerve on my toes. Heels and toes nearly touching. Chin tucked, gaze forward. Arms glued. Even a newborn fawn would be freer. The first step toward becoming the empire's most beautiful, expensive ornament. Who knew that damn first step would weigh so heavy.
"You—what's your name?"
The maid didn't answer my question. Instead….
"It is unbecoming for Her Majesty to personally inquire after a mere maid's name."
Mere maid? How is a maid to the empress "mere"? This isn't some romance fantasy novel.
"If Your Majesty needs to refer to me, call me 'chief lady-in-waiting.' If curious about names, request the list of all attending servants through the Imperial Secretariat. It details not just names, but lineage, age, and positions."
Ha, is this even human? Am I talking to a person? Or a TTS manual?
I looked her straight in the eye.
"That's procedure. Right now, I'm curious about your name."
But despite my command, her expression didn't flicker.
She neither knelt nor bowed, but spoke in her rigid posture.
"Your Majesty. Your commands are absolute and must be obeyed. However, the manner of obedience must follow the House of Habsburg's long history and traditions, through the most formal procedures. That is the only way to uphold the empire's authority and Your Majesty's dignity."
She stepped back and addressed the footman by the door.
"Send a messenger to the Imperial Secretariat at once. Have them bring documents listing all court officials attending Her Majesty, including lineages, to Her Majesty's office."
The footman bowed and left. She turned back to me.
"As per Your Majesty's command, you will soon know my name and all others through the documents. A command shines brightest when executed through the most perfect, official procedure."
One thing was clear: no people existed here. Only positions. Now I faintly understood why Sisi thrashed to escape. A prison—a gorgeous prison.