Chapter 49
Chapter 49
Translation: godsn
"Samon."
"Medeia."
Samon, the Regent's son and Virna's older brother, stood behind her.
"I've been so distracted I forgot to congratulate you on your recovery. I'm glad you're healthy again."
Despite his affectionate tone, the blue eyes staring at Medeia were dark.
'She's changed so much since the riding accident.'
The dignified voice that had just wished for victory bore no resemblance to the insignificant fool he knew.
'Medeia, this wench. Did she somehow catch wind of our scheme and strike first?'
He secretly suspected Medeia.
Her skill in deftly cornering his father and sister while maintaining an innocent face was far too practiced.
"Samon, did I do something wrong?"
Then Medeia's voice trembled as she lowered her delicate eyebrows.
Her clear, transparent eyes filled with worry, making her look like a frightened deer.
"I only repeated what Aunt and Virna said—I never imagined everyone would take such offense."
Her pale hand grasped Samon's arm and gave it a small shake.
"Do you think they're upset because I gave Virna the dress Aunt gave me? That they think me presumptuous?"
As if pouring out her grievances to a beloved brother, she appeared completely dependent on Samon.
'Ah, she's still this timid, overly sensitive girl... I was overthinking things.'
If she truly knew of their ambitions, she wouldn't still treat him this way.
Mocking Medeia's dullness inwardly, Samon affectionately patted her shoulder.
"Don't be ridiculous. You know how much Mother adores you, Dea. She's just trying to discipline immature Virna."
Samon smiled, saying that after all, today was her day.
But Medeia noticed his eyes weren't smiling at all.
'Samon, you cunning, cruel bastard—you always repay every slight with vengeance.'
Once, a low-ranking servant of the ducal house had accidentally damaged Samon's prized leather shoes.
Samon had graciously forgiven him to his face, but later Medeia heard the servant had been dismissed after "accidentally" losing a foot.
His true nature only revealed itself before those weaker than him. At the time, Medeia had merely thought it coincidental.
But now that she knew Samon's true character, she understood.
'You'll try to repay me for today's events too, won't you? Since your family was humiliated.'
Yet she felt no fear toward Samon.
'After all, I have plenty to repay you for as well.'
In her past life, Samon had risen to prominence after Pelleus was crippled by a war injury.
The king was God's chosen—the noblest existence in the land.
Thus, continental belief held that his body must remain whole.
The people of Valdina were no exception.
"Does this not mean the gods have rejected His Majesty the King!"
Before Pelleus could even tend to his wounded leg, he had to quell the fierce public opinion threatening his sovereignty from within and without.
It was then that Samon—who shared similar bloodline and features—suddenly emerged as Pelleus's replacement.
Eventually, voices even suggested the flawed Pelleus should yield the throne to Samon.
'I won't let you and your brother continue to leech off us any longer.'
"You always understand me, Brother."
"Of course."
Samon nodded.
"Dea, I should take my leave now. Today is your day—don't worry and enjoy yourself."
He bowed to kiss the back of Medeia's hand before departing.
Like a predator watching its prey, Medeia's gaze lingered on his retreating back for a long time.
Virna, who had stormed out, seethed with barely contained fury.
If she didn't want to be dragged back by her mother, she needed to return to the banquet hall immediately.
As she turned her steps back toward the hall, she spotted Medeia in the distance, laughing brightly while conversing with others.
"...Why is she laughing?"
Virna muttered blankly.
How could Medeia be laughing so joyfully over there when she was suffering like this?
"Everything is Medeia's fault when you think about it."
That wench deliberately gave her the dress so people would laugh at her.
Otherwise, would she have handed over something so precious so readily?
Virna's fists trembled.
Well then, she couldn't just stand by either. She summoned her personal maid, Shilla.
"Shilla, make sure Medeia drinks this."
"Wh-what? For Her Highness the Princess? My lady, this is still a royal banquet—that's far too dangerous—"
Shilla, seeing the white powder, was startled out of her wits.
Slap!
Stars flashed before her eyes.
"Are you my dog, or am I yours? Do as you're told. Unless you want to be sold off tomorrow without a soul knowing."
Clutching her stinging cheek, Shilla had no choice but to nod.
"Don't worry. It's not poison. I wouldn't do anything to get myself killed."
"Th-then......"
"It'll just make her see strange things and hear voices, that's all. I only mean to give her a good scare."
Given how easily frightened she was, who knew what hallucinations might make her cause a scene? It would be quite the spectacle to behold.
Just like when she panicked at the tea party and fell off her horse.
"So just do as you're told, understand?"
Virna's face was filled with her usual, adorable malice.
"Yes, the fall... That's when it started. That's when everything went wrong."
It seemed her dear cousin had lost all sense of fear—time to brand that lesson back into her pretty little head.
Noticing her leisurely smile, Samon approached and muttered under his breath,
"Virna, what are you planning now?"
It was the same during the riding accident. Every time Virna made that mischievous face, some mishap befell Medeia.
Of course, seeing his cousin's reputation in tatters was something Samon dearly wished for, but today was different.
"Not today."
Samon scowled.
Did she have any idea how many people were here today?
If anything happened, there were too many witnesses to sweep it under the rug like last time.
"Don't do anything stupid. Understood?"
"What did I even do?"
Virna raised her eyebrows indignantly. Samon glared at her in warning before walking away.
"Hmph, too late now."
Virna stuck her tongue out at Samon's retreating back.
At the height of the banquet, a glass was presented before Medeia.
"Your Highness, aren't you thirsty?"
A palace maid smiled coyly. It was berry wine—Medeia's favorite.
As she gazed at the shimmering crimson liquid, Medeia spotted Virna watching her intently from afar.
Even without the overpowering berry scent, Medeia would have sensed something amiss with this drink.
'As expected, you never stray from my predictions, Virna.'
Was this really Virna's first time pulling such a cheap "prank"? The way she acted on her temper so readily was almost second nature.
Medeia picked up the glass. Then, with practiced ease, she turned back to join the nobles' conversation.
The maid wanted to see Medeia drink it, but once the glass was taken, she had no reason to linger and withdrew.
As Medeia conversed with the guests, her eyes fell upon Minister Etienne.
"Ah."
The star of tonight's banquet had arrived.
Medeia looked down at the wine. A scheme flickered through her mind.
'This gift from Virna... I might just put it to good use.'
It seemed perfect for adding a richer effect to her plan to finish off Etienne tonight.
Count Etienne, Minister of the Imperial Household, widened his eyes at the sight of Medeia.
"Well, if it isn't Her Royal Highness the Princess."
"Minister Etienne, it's been a while. My, you've grown even more... substantial since we last met?"
Surprisingly, the minister burst into laughter.
His flushed cheeks wobbled as the champagne in his hand spilled over.
Too deep in his cups to notice the princess's jab at his figure.
"Ah, you made quite the impression today, Your Highness. Speaking so boldly before such a crowd without a hint of nerves. I, Etienne, was moved. No wonder Saint Esther showered you with stars—she must've found you utterly precious!"
Etienne peered blearily down at the princess.
His condescending manner was like an elder patting a child's head.
"Is that how it seemed? Though I hear Saint Esther loathed those who abandoned their duty for greed—piercing their bellies with spears, they say. As you said, I'm still young and pure, so perhaps she took pity on me."
The princess smiled sweetly in return. Yet her choice of words was... peculiar.
"......"
'Is this wench mocking me?'
Saint Esther's eccentric exploits were well-known across the continent.
Etienne, drowning in liquor, dismissed it as his own oversensitivity.
"But, Minister."
"Yes, do speak, Your Highness."
"Whose permission did you obtain for this party? Can a palace event be held without royal approval?"
The Minister of Palace Affairs' bleary eyes blinked rapidly.