The Blessing and the Shadow
"Did she eat something bad? People say you're about to die when you act out of character, but did she actually kick the bucket? No, that doesn't seem right either. And why the hell did she look weirdly pretty?"
Lisianthus slapped his own cheek. Smack. The sharp crack echoed in the room.
"No, damn it, even if I'm desperate for a woman, that's just dead wrong... Guess I'm the one who's lost his mind. Hey, Brother, do me a favor and hit me once, will you?"
"...I believe you're the one who ate something bad, Lisianthus."
"Come on! You were the first one to see that crazy woman! After hearing all that nonsense about deals and Gloriana's Insignia, you froze up completely and ran off to fetch Father! Why aren't you backing me up here? We can't just brush this off!"
"If you keep disturbing me, I won't finish my work before today ends. That means I won't be able to accompany Bibi to the imperial palace tomorrow, disrupting our entire schedule. Keep it down and—"
"Huh? You're really taking Bibi to the palace tomorrow?"
"It was Father's decision. And there's no reason not to. She only begs for something when she has a good reason."
"True enough! Our Bibi really has a good head on her shoulders!" Lisianthus grinned ear to ear, his foul mood evaporating in an instant.
Having officially joined their household, Bibi was, in every sense of the word, a blessing to the Castrein family.
She had handed them the perfect opportunity to wipe out those insolent wretches who dared traffic in family bloodlines and peddle illicit goods. She approached the feared Duke Castrein without a hint of hesitation, smiling up at him and sending handwritten letters, even offering floral tea she had plucked with her tiny hands so he could rest easy—a tea that, miraculously, proved instantly effective in soothing the worsening ache of the Duke's old injuries.
Relying on the duchy's strict codes of conduct, the head maid had been secretly blackmailing junior maids over petty mistakes to extort money and valuables, only for Bibi to catch her red-handed and expose the entire scheme. She had even managed to coax Lasper out into the open, a boy who had spent every single day holed up in the library buried under piles of books.
Most precious of all was that Bibi genuinely cherished everyone.
She never brushed aside the slightest kindness, returning every gesture in full sincerity and wishing for everyone's happiness. Sensing that genuine warmth, the members of the ducal house—men whom outsiders dismissed as cold-blooded villains devoid of tears or mercy—had long since melted completely before the little lady.
The Castrein Duchy was a place of ruthless efficiency.
The three brothers possessed neither charm nor overt tenderness. Though none had yet reached adulthood, every word and action of theirs was already far more mature than that of most grown men. Nor was the Duke an affectionate father. Even servants who had spent decades in his service dared not address him casually, petrified by his suffocating presence.
Long had it been since the Duchess passed away after giving birth to Lasper, yet the Duke never sought to fill that empty seat with anyone else. The butler and the head maid tried their best to cover the gap, but cracks inevitably formed. The head maid's recent, preposterous extortion scheme was ultimately due to the absence of a proper mistress to oversee household affairs from above.
A chill wind constantly howled through the ducal residence. Perhaps it was because of the crushing weight of their responsibilities, or because every member of the family was an incorrigible workaholic. Perhaps it was because there was no child who actually acted like one, or because the servants were so terrified that they never dared show the slightest familiarity to their masters.
Yet into this bleak world tumbled a little girl, cute as a rabbit princess straight out of a fairy tale, welcomed in as the youngest daughter of House Castrein.
The servants went wild.
She's so cute! The way she behaves is cute, the way she talks is cute—everything about her is simply adorable!
Never in their lives had they imagined hosting a dessert party in this desolate estate, or calling in endless rows of tailors and merchants bearing bundles of lace and silk fabrics, or watching flower-strewn paths laid out along the terrace.
Spring had finally arrived in the bleak Castrein Duchy!
"...Would Lasper have been that cute if he were born a girl?"
"Stop talking nonsense."
"Well, Bibi is cute because she's Bibi. Right. Then... do you get to see that crazy woman tomorrow?"
"Refrain from vulgar insults and use her proper name, Lisianthus. Besides, imperial palace or not, no one scrutinizes the guest list of the Young Duke of Castrein when he drops by to see an acquaintance in the First Imperial Guard."
"So you're saying you'll take Bibi without getting her caught. Then obviously you won't be seeing her."
Why are you paying so much attention to Princess Titania?
Raymon swallowed back the question before it slipped from his lips. He had already received the report detailing the scheme Lisianthus and the princess had pulled off together, as well as what the princess had demanded in return.
Princess Titania had shed her former image entirely.
She had changed so drastically that one had to suspend judgment on whether she was a potential ally to House Castrein or an enemy. It was only natural for Lisianthus, having clashed with her directly, to wonder about her. And in truth, so did Raymon.
"I need a loyal escort knight and a maid."
Her face simply refused to leave his mind.
"Those capable of killing a person—or saving one."
Even as she smiled brightly, she looked like a shattered teacup, as if she might crumble to dust and vanish at any second. And those eyes, gleaming with a chilling brilliance as if she stood entirely alone in this world.
It was bizarre. Like a blade lodged in a wound left to fester, an unidentifiable emotion swelled within him like poison whenever his thoughts drifted to her.
He could not trust her completely. He had to remember that even this might be a ploy.
Therefore, to Raymon, Titania was still poison.
Or so he chose to believe.
The interior of the Empress's palace, which I had entered for the very first time, felt unfamiliar. As I kept my mouth shut tight, my companion spoke with cautious hesitation.
"I'm not particularly knowledgeable about tea, so I just asked them to prepare whatever was fitting."
Evidently considerate of a child's palate, the tea served was rich with generous splashes of milk and sugar.
I cast a sidelong glance at the boy who had brought me all the way to his mother's palace. He must have known that Imperial Consort Cleo's lackeys swarmed my own residence, which meant he had brought me here to talk out of her watchful sight.
As he personally slid the large cup, brimful of warm milk tea, toward me, his profile looked chiseled from marble. Long, sweeping eyelashes, melancholic light-green eyes reminiscent of tender young shoots, and cleanly defined features—judging solely by his face, he was a prince straight out of a picture book.
In a way, despite being born with a silver spoon in his mouth, this guy's destiny was rather tragic.
Adrian del Rase Hamastion.
The son of the Empress, born exactly one year after Brian del Radil Hamastion.
For a stable succession, it would have been wiser for the Emperor to avoid taking concubines until securing a firstborn son with the Empress. Yet the Emperor's relationship with the current Empress was atrocious. The reason was simple: as the sole son of the late Emperor, he had been pampered and indulged since childhood, and he could never stand anyone superior to himself.
Most people flattered him, so his vanity usually caused little issue—as long as everyone pretended to fawn over him, he could manage a facade of imperial benevolence. The real problem was that the people who had no reason to bow and scrape before him happened to intensely provoke his inferiority complex.
People like Duke Castrein, or the Empress.
The Empress was the eldest daughter of the Integria Marquisate, an illustrious lineage rivaling the imperial family itself and standing firm since the empire's dawn. Renowned for its strict family traditions, the Marquisate of Integria had educated their eldest daughter impeccably, instilling a nobility so spotless that even the imperial court could find no fault.
Having ascended the throne as Empress with rightful pride, she felt no need to humor the Emperor's petty whims.
The Emperor found such an Empress insufferable. Yet she was the Empress of the Empire. Sovereign or not, he could not persecute her without justification simply because she refused to grovel before him.
So when Imperial Consort Cleo—an illegitimate daughter installed as consort in place of her elder sister—stroked his ego and catered to his every vanity, the Emperor began flaunting his favor for her openly, aiming to crush the Empress's spirit. He went so far as to sire his firstborn son through Cleo.
Perhaps if he had suffered from weak legitimacy himself, or witnessed bloody civil strife between royal kin, he might have hesitated to commit such an irresponsible folly. But ironically, the Emperor had been the cherished only son of the late Emperor, whose bloodline was rare and precious.
Successor? It's enough that he is the son I chose. What does his mother's status matter?
Such was the Emperor's inner mind—an arrogant, reckless rationalization.
He went as far as subtly slighting the Empress and her son while lavishing overt affection on Prince Brian and Consort Cleo. Though neither prince had come of age, anyone could see that within a few short years, this would become the spark igniting a vicious war for the throne.