An Impostor Born of Sin
The moment the Emperor vanished completely from sight, Imperial Consort Cleo shook off the attendants and maids who were frantically trying to restrain her and lunged straight toward me.
“You!”
Her eyes blazed with crackling fury as she seized me by the collar. So close was her face that I could hear the grinding of her teeth.
“Just what in the world did you scheme? You were holed up in the Empress’s palace until yesterday!”
I replied in a nonchalant, unbothered drawl.
“You tried to turn me into a cursed child, Your Imperial Highness.”
“When you were awake, so perfectly fine! Holed up in the Empress’s palace… just what did that pretentious bitch promise you?!”
“Her Majesty the Empress ensured I received safe treatment.”
“You wouldn’t have suffered any harm even if you had simply kept quiet! What grudge do you hold against me to dare cross me?!”
“You made the very maids who once openly scorned their master come rushing over, weeping and clinging to me, putting on a show of concern.”
I offered her a serene smile.
“And even that, I tolerated.”
“What?”
“To speak candidly, had Your Imperial Highness simply waited until I left the Empress’s palace, I would have gladly put on an innocent act and played the obedient fool for you a while longer.”
My goal had been to let her underestimate me for as long as possible.
I anticipated that even after I departed the Empress’s palace, she would poke and prod to see whether I had truly joined hands with the Empress. When that happened, I was fully prepared to don a mask, feign dependence on her, and even shed a few pitiful tears.
“You look down on Her Majesty the Empress so much, yet why did you feel the need to use me as a tool to strike at her right at this very moment?”
“Y-You wretched wench… Do you think I’ll leave your mother alone? Do you think I’ll let you off?!”
“Oh my, are you planning to kill Imperial Consort Elaine? In that case, I would truly become the Empress’s daughter. Her Majesty would soon play the role of my maternal mother for the Castrein Duchy.”
“Y-You… you damned little…!”
Broken capillaries burst across Cleo’s eyes, staining them a vicious, venomous red.
“Do you honestly trust the Castrein Duchy?” she hissed, her words tumbling out in a rapid, frantic whisper.
“……”
“Just because you saved their adopted daughter, do you really believe that ruthless family will take your side? What an absurd joke!”
“……”
“They are merely using you! Fine, I admit it—I tried to use you all this time, too! But do you think the Empress treats you well out of genuine affection? The one who actually cared for you and looked out for you when not even your own birth mother gave a damn was—!”
“Imperial Consort. Why bring up such hurtful words between us now?”
I mirrored the exact smile she always wore.
Yes, that very eye smile she used whenever she seduced the Emperor—the honeyed glance she gave when whispering that our dear Brian was so exceptionally skilled, proposing they turn his fresh game into delicacies and share an intimate drink together.
A smile carved so deep the corners of my mouth dimpled sharply.
Seeing her own expression thrown right back into her face, Cleo’s cheeks went rigid, freezing in place.
“I know better than anyone that Your Imperial Highness was the only person in this palace who truly thought of me.”
No one else had worked so tirelessly to thoroughly deceive, corrupt, and toy with young Titania as she had.
They say bystanders bear guilt, but their sins could never compare to the malice of the instigator.
Of course, pulling off today’s maneuver was only possible thanks to the backing of the Castrein family.
It succeeded because the pieces fell into place together: my knowledge of the original novel, the newly discovered insights from the books, and the sacred power of the sword. Furthermore, Cleo had grown complacent, entirely convinced that the imperial palace was her unchallenged domain.
Until now, she had never faced a true rival within these walls. The Empress had always aimed to minimize casualties and steer clear of conflict rather than baring her fangs in outright retaliation.
“Do you think His Majesty will trust and rely on you just because you wield power capable of slaying demonic beasts?! You are nothing more than—!”
“When Your Imperial Highness doesn’t even trust His Majesty yourself, why on earth are you telling me to trust him?”
A melodic giggle bubbled from my throat. Cleo glared at me through bloodshot eyes, her breath hitching.
“You… you have changed.”
“Yes, I have.”
“Since when? Just when did you start playing the witless fool to betray me? If you had stood entirely by my side, do you have any idea how much I could have granted you?!”
“A foolish, brain-damaged girl barely regained consciousness, threw a tantrum by confronting her fiancé in what was practically her nightgown, and you came running to inspect the fallout, didn’t you?”
I spoke with gentle sweetness, as though indulging in playful banter. Cleo’s pupils wavered faintly.
“…You certainly have caused quite a few bizarre accidents lately.”
“Yet no one—truly no one—ever bothered to ask why I fell from merely the second floor and cracked my skull.”
Did the original Titania ever genuinely trust the Imperial Consort?
Even if it was purely for manipulation, Cleo was the only person who spoke sweet, tender words to her, told her she was worried, comforted her by saying everything would be fine, and showered her with gifts.
Even after she was led around by the nose, handed a vial of poison, and coaxed into slipping it into the teacup of the Castrein family’s precious adopted daughter… did she still believe?
Had she known instinctively all along, yet chosen to turn a blind eye?
Because if she refused to believe Cleo’s affection was real, she would have had to face the reality that she was utterly alone in this imperial palace.
Because she could not bear to admit that the only person who paid her any attention was simply grooming her to be thrown away….
‘Aren’t you resentful, my darling Titi?’
“What if you were to think of it like this?”
A voice as sweet as poison echoed in my ears like a lingering phantom.
‘Titi, Titania. Princess. Yes, it’s all that child’s fault. Of course it is. Why else would talk of breaking the engagement surface only now?’
In that phantom memory, Cleo’s hand pressed a tiny glass vial into trembling fingers.
‘It’s a medicine that merely induces vomiting and an upset stomach on the spot. Don’t you want to see that girl reduced to a weeping mess, begging for mercy? Don’t you want to see those men of the Castrein family who adore her… fretting helplessly, clinging to her side?’
‘It’s such a minor, harmless revenge,’ the honeyed voice had whispered on, so sweet it threatened to melt the mind.
‘She’ll be a sobbing, wretched spectacle…. Oh dear, but if that happened in public, wouldn’t a young lady’s honor be utterly ruined? My, my…. Titi, my sweet Titi. Who knows better than you how cold and ruthlessly capable the great Castrein family is? Not a single scandalous rumor will ever escape the estate walls.’
A liquid red as fresh blood had shimmered inside the vial.
‘The choice, of course, is entirely yours.’
Yes.
Blaming the original Titania’s downfall entirely on the Imperial Consort was nothing short of foolish.
Even if the foolish girl had pleaded that she ‘didn’t know it was poison,’ and even if that were the absolute truth…
What did it change?
Deep down, she must have suspected it was poison.
Yet she never checked.
She never cared whether the substance inside was truly lethal or not.
And in the end, she had tried to feed it to Bibi.
“The witless child who was so young and ignorant that she mistook Your Imperial Highness’s malice for affection died back then,” I said, meeting her gaze squarely. “And an impostor born of your sins has taken her place instead.”
The Imperial Consort who had whispered that my fiancé loved me.
The Imperial Consort who had proudly declared that the Castrein Duchy would never dare break a betrothal with the imperial family.
The Imperial Consort who had purred that having no daughter of her own, she cherished me as her very own flesh and blood….
Even so, the young Titania had clung to that lie.
“So, I look forward to your continued care, Your Imperial Highness.”
And in return, I would shatter every ounce of hope you possess.
Imperial Consort Cleo trembled with unbridled fury as her maids supported her away from the scene.
She could not erase the image of the Princess smiling back at her. A terrifying girl. Was all that flustered, hesitant smiling whenever she saw Cleo a complete fabrication? Every single bit of it?
Cleo had always prided herself on being an astute judge of character.
Her own birth mother had drifted among married noblemen, playing the role of a kept mistress. While she never openly sold herself on the streets, she survived by extracting patronage and allowances from various men. And by chance, before the current Marquis of Landt inherited his title, she had engaged in a brief affair with him and succeeded in conceiving a child.
The woman kept the pregnancy completely hidden. She slipped away to the countryside, gave birth, and only returned to present the infant to the Marquis once it was already born. Marquis Landt was thrilled neither by the child’s existence nor by her baseborn mother. Yet he despised the idea of letting his own bloodline wander outside the household even more. And so, he handed the woman a sum of hush money and brought only the child into the family.
At the time, the young Marquis already had a son and a daughter with his lawful wife. Following a discussion with the Marchioness, he decided to assign this illegitimate daughter to serve as the personal maid to the legitimate daughter born of his wedded wife.
You will never inherit this marquisate. Know your place, obey quietly, and do not even dream of being treated as family.
Every cruelty of that decision had been steeped in that unspoken decree.
The legitimate daughter of the Landt Marquisate had been remarkably elegant even in her youth. And with that same refined elegance, she despised the half-sister who waited on her hand and foot. Cleo had been forced to grit her teeth and endure, swallowing the mockery and venom hidden behind polished, aristocratic compliments spoken right to her face.