Weaponized Tears
“Welcome, Titania.”
“Fath—ah, no, I greet Your Imperial Majesty!”
Twisting my body shyly like an immature princess desperate to show off how dearly she was favored by the Emperor, I minced forward toward the sprawling banquet table.
The table was vast enough to swallow half the length of the grand hall. Just as expected, nearly the entire imperial family had already gathered.
Seated at the head was the Emperor himself, flanked on either side by Consort Cleo and the Empress. Beside the consort and the empress sat the First Prince and the Second Prince...
Wait, no.
The First Prince hadn’t arrived yet.
Even though I had dolled myself up and rushed over as fast as humanly possible, arriving after the Emperor was normally grounds for a sharp scolding. However, it was not quite six o’clock yet, and judging by the “magnanimous” warmth with which the Emperor welcomed me, he clearly had no intention of reprimanding me.
In truth, it was more likely because castigating me when his precious First Prince hadn’t even shown up yet would force him to punish that little brat as well.
I took my seat, arranged right beside a solitary, empty chair set off to the side. It was reserved for the Second Consort, who refused to step foot outside her palace under the pretext of illness—though everyone gathered here knew full well she would never come.
“Wouldn’t it be heartless to clear away the seat just because someone is absent?”
It was solely for the sake of the Emperor’s face-saving platitude that this utterly pointless gesture was repeated during the imperial family’s sparse shared meals. How thoroughly typical of him. He didn’t give a damn about her, nor did he worry in the slightest.
He simply feared that appearing dismissive would paint him as petty and narrow-minded. He only wanted to hear sycophants whisper, “To remember even those who cannot be present—what a truly benevolent sovereign His Majesty is!”
“Haha, calling me ‘Your Imperial Majesty’ sounds so cold. Did falling ill finally put some sense into your head? Just call me ‘Father.’ We are among family, after all, so what does protocol matter?”
“Yes, yes, Father!”
Setting down the glass of water I had been about to sip, I squealed with delight as if I couldn’t contain my joy. Maintaining the hyperactive energy of an excitable young girl on the verge of shrieking with glee was far more exhausting than it looked.
Honestly, what wouldn’t I call him if it was just words? Father, Papa, Daddy—who cared? Irresponsible bastard.
“Did falling ill finally put some sense into your head?” he said. He hadn’t cared in the slightest while Titania hovered between life and death. He hadn’t paid her a single visit. To think those were the first words he threw at a daughter who had barely clawed her way back from death’s door.
Well, it wasn’t as if I hadn’t seen it coming. The Emperor viewed Princess Titania as nothing more than a pet. She was young, pretty, and served as a useful link to the Castrein Duchy, buzzing around him begging for affection while chirping “Father, Father.”
He tossed out a few sweet words, pampered her when the whim struck him, but never shouldered any real responsibility or gave her serious thought. If she ever dared plant her muddy paws on his lap or made a mess in his living quarters, he would recoil in horror, order the wretched thing thrown out, and demand that someone beat it within an inch of its life to teach it manners. And if she died? He would scramble to find a replacement the very next day.
“I heard you were terribly sick, Princess Titania, so it is a relief to see your lovely face hasn’t lost its bloom. Though... didn’t quite a commotion take place at your palace yesterday?”
Consort Cleo nibbled on her appetizer salad, casually dropping the loaded remark as though it were mere small talk. Although she had dressed somewhat more modestly than usual out of deference to a family meal, the tiara pinned to her coiffed hair was still the Ocean of Stars. Her transparent intent to grate on the Empress’s nerves was on full display.
The glance she cast my way was particularly loaded.
Right. Officially, Consort Cleo never paid me a visit to offer sweet consolation and gift me that sword, is that it? Which means, naturally, when talk of the Offering Festival comes up, I’m not supposed to drag her name into it—I’m supposed to ‘voluntarily’ step forward myself, right?
I dipped my head low for a moment, playing the part of someone caught off guard with a guilty conscience.
Feigning ignorance would be useless anyway. No one seated at this table was ignorant of what had transpired at my palace yesterday. You could see it clearly from the Empress, who hadn’t breathed a single word to me, to the Second Prince sitting beside her, silently sipping his water.
As always, the Empress completely ignored Consort Cleo’s thinly veiled snubs and the Emperor’s quiet favoritism, refusing to spare them even a glance. The Second Prince, however, was different. Though he carefully feigned indifference, his eyes darted ceaselessly across the table, taking in every ripple of tension.
Oops, our eyes met.
Ignoring the pale green eyes that stiffened slightly in surprise, I let my hands tremble uncontrollably as if I could no longer endure the indignity, and burst out into a wail.
Damn it. Ever since I regained my past-life memories, the only thing that’s improved is my acting.
“Your Majesty, Your Imperial Majesty! That mad dog of the Castrein family—no, Lisianthus! That brute insulted me!”
One of the Emperor’s brows twitched upward in annoyance. Consort Cleo, whose question had effectively been bulldozed over, looked thoroughly amused instead. And why wouldn’t she be? Her question had been a deliberate spark tossed straight onto Titania’s short fuse.
If Titania, a shortsighted girl with zero patience, had actually handed that legendary sword over to Raymon and managed to patch up their relationship, it would have been quite inconvenient for the consort. Not that Cleo genuinely believed a mere sword would mend fences between the princess and Raymon in the first place.
And right on cue, Lisianthus and I had gotten into a massive brawl.
Consider her fiancé’s face and let it slide after a vicious shouting match with his younger brother? If Titania were capable of such restraint... she never would have ended up in this mess to begin with. Besides, Lisianthus had always been a thorn in Titania’s side, constantly feeding her inferiority complex. Whenever they fought, Raymon had always taken his brother’s side.
Therefore, the original, foolish Titania would have seized this moment to put the Emperor on the spot. She would have thrown an unhinged tantrum, screaming that the insolent dog had insulted Father and begging for Lisianthus’s head or limbs to be severed. A shallow move, of course. Because all the Emperor truly wanted was to chuckle it off and sweep it under the rug.
“I—I only wanted to be hospitable! I prepared the finest tea and refreshments with all my heart!”
Cry! I have to cry!
When had I felt the most profound, soul-crushing sorrow of my life?
Was it when the final installment of my all-time favorite movie franchise—which I’d waited nearly a decade for—got botched by studio mergers and turned into the biggest cinematic trainwreck in history? The day I took paid time off just to watch the premiere at dawn, only to end up sobbing violently by the trash cans while throwing away an untouched tub of popcorn and cola?
Or was it when I caught severe enteritis, spent days hospitalized on IV drips and rice porridge, and the moment I was discharged, I sprinted to my favorite tteokbokki joint only to find a sign hanging on the door?
No!
It was the moment I opened my eyes to find myself playing a second life on hardcore difficulty, trapped in the body of an unloved princess whose popularity stats were buried six feet underground!
“H-He said... he said the hospitality at the Rose Palace was as petty as birdseed! That it couldn’t hold a candle to the flames he could summon with his sword! He said that just like me, the Rose Palace is as pathetic as a rat trap, so burning it to ash wouldn’t even be a waste of kindling...!”
The Emperor’s expression hardened. Consort Cleo’s smile froze.
And the Empress... her eyes subtly shifted, as if thinking, Look at this girl now.
Of course, the servants and maids were well aware that Lisianthus and I had hurled vulgar insults at each other in a filthy brawl. Yet when dealing with a titan like the Castrein Duchy, a petty exchange of insults would never blow up into an official scandal. The only leverage that could genuinely cause an uproar was concrete, undeniable property damage.
Exactly.
That bastard had set a fire. On top of that, he had picked a fight with the Rose Palace itself—which meant insulting the imperial palace’s dignity.
Calling it pathetic!
No matter how neglected the princess’s quarters were compared to the other imperial palaces, it was still imperial property. Why else would he sneer that it was pathetic? Obviously, he was comparing it to the Castrein Duchy’s ducal residence and finding the palace wanting.
If the mad dog of Castrein had merely lost his temper and thrown a fit, the Emperor could have easily laughed it off with a patronizing chuckle. In fact, compared to the other flawless members of the ducal house who never showed a hint of weakness, it would have offered him an easy mental victory: What a relief my own princes are not so savage and unhinged.
However, hearing that the imperial family was inferior to the Castrein Duchy? That was an insult his fragile ego could never stomach!
“You have suffered greatly, Princess. Dry your tears.”
“Hic... It’s all because... because I’m lacking, Your Imperial Majestyyy...”
“Now, now! I told you to stop crying!”
Pretending to forcibly choke back my sobs, I swallowed ragged, shuddering breaths as I gazed up at the Emperor with glistening eyes. The Emperor stroked his chin, pondering for a moment before declaring:
“I have heard the Rose Palace suffered such fire damage that it can hardly be left as it is. Take this opportunity to rebuild it with the utmost splendor! Make it so grand that no brat who isn’t even the head of House Castrein could ever dare mock it as pathetic!”
“A-As expected, I only have you, F-Father!”
Good grief. Coward doesn’t even have the guts to lodge a formal protest with the ducal house. I knew he’d do this.
While my eyes sparkled with starry-eyed adoration on the outside, I cursed him out with every fiber of my being on the inside.