Chapter 34
Chapter 34
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 34
Chapter Title: Shadow of the Huaihua Palace
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Before choices and worries, you had to look back. On your origins.
On the thick shadow still clutching at your ankle.
The residence where the imperial grandchildren lived, Huaihua Palace, was a wonderful place.
A sprawling building perfect for hide-and-seek, and gardens meticulously tended by gardeners with an eye for beauty. Sumptuous meals served every day, and servants who granted nearly every request.
If Huaihua Palace lacked anything, it was sufficient affection.
Out of the elderly emperor's concerns, the palace servants were rotated out every cycle. And if any showed signs of growing attached to the imperial grandchildren, they were swiftly removed.
That was why the imperial grandchildren came to see the servants as nonentities, mere golems. They paid no attention to their every move and never expressed any interest or gratitude, even if it arose.
They knew all too well that thanking a maid for picking up a dropped handkerchief meant her face would vanish from the palace by tomorrow.
So, the one thing truly missing in Huaihua Palace was affection. That void was filled by the imperial grandchildren among themselves.
"Sis, you're it today, right?"
"Sledo, the butler says you should call me 'sister' properly."
"That's too stiff. I hate it."
They were undergoing imperial studies, memorizing the crests and meanings of noble houses, and absorbing the gestures and poise of high society into their very bones. Yet they were still children.
Elaine, Irid, and Sledo played together innocently.
As if they were the only ones in this little world.
And watching them was always the First Prince, lounging in his armchair.
He had been mature from the start, knowing far more than his years. He didn't join his siblings in their romps, holding hands and dashing about, but when they returned from play, he praised them.
He warned them not to run into dangerous spots or encouraged them when they achieved something. In this environment where all the imperial grandchildren kept their distance from the servants...
The First Prince played the role of an adult.
The emotional pillar that embraced the children's mistakes.
It was a year after the emperor's summons.
Strange things began happening in Huaihua Palace.
A teacup fell from the second-floor balcony, scorching Third Prince Sledo's face as he played in the courtyard. He suffered minor burns and cuts.
Second Prince Irid slipped, nearly impaling his eye on the sharpened handle of a mop that happened to be there.
First Princess Elaine—you—could not escape this bizarre "misfortune" either. While crossing the first-floor hall, the chandelier overhead suddenly screamed as its chain snapped.
If the devoted attendant beside you hadn't shoved you aside, you would have died—or at least been gravely injured.
You watched that attendant get crushed beneath the chandelier, reduced to something like a smashed tomato. The "misfortune" had started small but was now openly gunning for lives.
You trembled in fear. Priests blessed the entire building; court mages investigated. Nothing turned up.
It felt too malicious to dismiss as mere bad luck.
You turned to the most trustworthy among the imperial grandchildren—the First Prince. He always led his siblings with such maturity. And that natural air he exuded...
He had the most radiant golden hair of all. His deep blue eyes sparkled with mischief. Yet every gesture carried a gentle dignity. You couldn't imagine anyone else on the throne.
So you trusted him. Surely, consulting the First Prince would see you through this too.
Perched on a small table beside an armchair even larger, he read a book with a cup of black tea.
Young but composed, you didn't cling to him sobbing about your fear of the "misfortune." Instead, you knocked politely and approached with measured steps.
You opened your small mouth.
"Brother, do you know anything about what's happening in the palace...?"
"You mean Sledo's scar, Irid's near miss? And that poor attendant who died. Thank goodness you weren't hurt, Elaine."
"...Yes. I don't think it's just 'bad luck.' The mages and priests all say it's nothing unusual, but I felt malice. Like someone is trying to hurt us... What do you think, brother?"
"I did it."
"..........Pardon?"
Unable to process it, you asked again.
The First Prince smiled brightly and confirmed it once more.
"I set it all up. No evidence, no way to pin it on me—but it's true. I did it. Feel free to believe me!"
"...That's a cruel joke, brother."
"Does it sound like one?"
It didn't. His once-kind eyes now regarded you like a chess pawn. A chilling gaze that froze your blood.
From that look, you sensed a vicious playfulness.
"...If that's true, then why?"
Why orchestrate such things? Why tell me? It was a loaded question. He smirked and replied.
"It's just... a little game. To kill time. I'll give you a month, Elaine. After that, Sledo dies first."
"........."
"Time to find new toys. Found some already... no time left. Would've liked to play with you a bit longer!"
With that, he ended the conversation.
You were bewildered. You wanted to believe it was a joke, but it rang too true. And after ten years together, it was hard to accept your brother trying to kill you all.
Moreover, you couldn't recall his name or list specific memories with him—which only fueled your terror.
You had to choose.
The "misfortune" intensified by the day.
Attendants were maimed or killed; Sledo developed a phobia of sharp objects; Irid grew suspicious of passersby.
At eleven years old, you wept, shook with anxiety, panicked—then realized you had to act. The First Prince had proposed a game.
To protect Irid, Sledo, and yourself.
You denounced him. Cried out that all these "misfortunes" were his wicked scheme.
But without evidence or the power to convince, you became the girl "slandering her brother for the throne already."
You begged. In front of the First Prince, pleaded for it all to stop.
Yet he seemed to relish even those reactions. Anger, tears, laughter—all mere playthings.
And then, before many witnesses, he declared:
"You've been through so much, Elaine... I understand your anxiety in these hard times. But you must distinguish delusion from reality."
Words that painted you as mad.
You realized it. That thing—the First Prince—had either been replaced midway or hidden its nature from the start. It wasn't human.
Perhaps.
Did the elderly emperor know?
About the unknowable thing coiled in the imperial family.
His advice: "Survive."
Survival.
Doubts plagued you—maybe it was all your mental illness. Lingering trust in the First Prince, burning rage. Neurosis like shedding skin. Guilt swelling each time a sibling was hurt, pressure from the one-month deadline.
You locked yourself in your room, pondering all day as sunlight faded your once-golden hair. Finally, you found your answer.
Ignore all those emotions. To survive.
If survival was your sole focus, the path was clear. Eliminate the threat: kill the First Prince.
You donned a mask, feigned normalcy, bided your time.
And with desperate preparation and long groundwork, you slipped poison into his teacup.
That scene is seared into your mind like a brand. He sipped the tea, vomited black blood. With a serene smile and a nod, he slammed his head on the table and died.
Everyone in Huaihua Palace knew who poisoned the First Prince. Whose ambition killed the prime heir to seize power from childhood.
As you sighed in relief, thinking it was over, accusatory glares flew: "Why kill such a kind brother?" Servants shunned or feared you.
"I... I did my best... to survive, to protect everyone."
Comforting yourself that it was all fine now, you tried to tell Irid and Sledo: let's play barefoot in the yard again, like before the "misfortune" struck.
"I protected everyone..."
But they met you with fearful eyes.
You heard your heart crack. Probably from your chest. Exhausted by the stares, you decided... to just let it be. As it always had been.
Afterward, Irid grew wary of you. You were no longer the gentle sister in his eyes.
Sledo stopped speaking to you. As if one who harmed family was no family at all.
You began doubting yourself too.
Gazing in the mirror, the elderly emperor's eyes loomed behind you.
Others' gazes still stung. Laughter made you fear new games beginning.
A strange conviction: the First Prince, capable of such malice, wouldn't fall to mere poisoned tea.
So you focused solely on survival. Today, tomorrow.
Gathering power, crushing potential foes, achieving feats, tempering your body. Not for dreams... just desperate thrashing to live.
No—even that you had to cling to. Survival, that single word, wrested at the cost of childhood memories, love from sole family Irid and Sledo.
It was all you had left in your grasp.
You lived, but weren't alive.
The homework of survival grew heavier with time. But discard it, and nothing remained—so you clutched it tight.
The wandering never ended. Direction lost meaning. Revelry lacked substance; reflection brought no improvement; cries echoed unheard.
You found no hope of better days. Thus, even now...
You wandered in search of "paradise."
To end this endless flight.
The distance left to "paradise."
About 30cm.