A Poisoned Offering
I was genuinely flabbergasted.
What utter rubbish. How could anyone fail to tell the difference between a boy who was acting prickly out of flustered embarrassment, and one who despised you from the bottom of his heart?
With everyone around her relentlessly hammering the lie into her head—"Young Duke Raymon truly adores Your Imperial Highness, he's only feigning indifference because of his family and politics!"—how could the poor child not turn into a clinging nightmare?
"You were always so flawlessly radiant, Princess, so seeing you in such disarray must have rattled him quite a bit. But more importantly, Titania..."
Cleo’s eyes narrowed slightly, casting a look that was unmistakable—disapproving, dismissive, as though gazing upon something entirely beneath her.
My body recoiled on pure instinct. However loudly she might have barked at servants, a neglected child with zero experience of genuine parental warmth would always freeze solid under an adult's reprimand. Especially when that adult was the very person she believed cared for her.
"No matter how lovely you may be, you cannot present yourself in such an unkempt state. As a lady of the imperial house, you must carry yourself with unmatched nobility."
"...Did I... do something wrong?"
"Young Duke Raymon is an extraordinary young man. Though not yet of age, he already acts as the duchy's proxy head on numerous occasions. However secretly he might adore you, how could he not be furious when you test him in such a pathetic state?"
"He's angry... because I tested him?"
I widened my eyes, putting on the performance of a stunned girl who had never fathomed such a profound truth.
To be fair, I really hadn't imagined it...
I had expected Cleo to gloss things over with sweet poison, but I never guessed she would spin it into something like: "You know better than anyone how much I love you, so how dare you test me in front of everyone like this? Did you think my devotion was a joke?"
"Indeed. You were in the wrong, Princess."
"I... I made a mistake..."
Cowed like an intimidated child, I parroted the words before clinging to her in desperate supplication. "Th-then... what must I do to soothe his anger?"
As if she had been waiting for that exact reaction, a smug wave of satisfaction washed over Imperial Consort Cleo's face. She paused, pretending to ponder, before speaking.
"How about giving him a heartfelt gift as an apology?"
"A... gift?"
Uh-oh. My danger instincts are screaming. It felt like she was handing me a ticking time bomb—one with two seconds left on the timer, where I had no choice but to take it and chuck it as far away as humanly possible if I wanted to survive.
Hiding the fire burning in my stomach, I blinked innocently, feigning childish wonder.
"I recently acquired a truly rare sword, you see. Hmm... I had considered presenting it to our precious Prince Brian, but well... seeing my darling Titania so terribly heartbroken, how could I not step in?"
Milking the gesture for every drop of unearned credit, the consort shrugged as if parting with a national treasure, practically bursting with self-congratulatory pride.
"The sword's name is Berris-Facio. Doesn't the very name exude nobility?"
I came within a hair's breadth of losing my mind and spitting out a string of profanities.
You crazy woman. Hey, that's a cursed demonic sword!
Just as there were ancient weapons capable of channeling divine light, there were naturally weapons tainted by darkness that wielded the power of shadow—much like the dichotomy between divine beasts and demonic beasts.
Strictly speaking, the blade was known as Berris-Facio.
Forged in an ill-conceived attempt to fuse the essence of the demonic beast Berris with the divine beast Facio, the experiment had been an utter failure. With prolonged use, it devoured the wielder's sanity, dragging them straight into ruin.
If memory served, Prince Brian had wielded that very sword in the original novel, driving himself into self-destruction toward the end... and watching her son meet that wretched fate had driven Imperial Consort Cleo half-mad.
"With such a magnificent blade, not even Young Duke Raymon could remain cross with you."
"..."
Gift a demonic sword to the Castrein Duchy—the one and only family in the entire empire capable of detecting and channeling divine power?
It was fortunate Cleo was genuinely ignorant of its true nature. Had she known, I would have assumed she was subtly ordering me to go commit suicide. Then again, she was probably just trying to slip a bribe to the duchy through me ahead of time, but... seriously, lady?
"B-but... I couldn't possibly be so shameless as to accept such a favor from Your Imperial Highness..."
When I shrank back with timid reluctance, the consort let out a soft snort of amusement.
No, I'm dead serious! Why are you acting so generous all of a sudden? Give it to the precious son you dote on day and night! Why on earth would you hand this so-called 'peerless masterwork' to the Castrein Duchy of all places, inviting their mockery—and murderous intent!
As if anticipating my hesitation, Cleo leaned in. "Do you truly feel that way, Princess?"
"P-pardon?"
"Then for the upcoming Summer Consecration Festival... would you be willing to go in Prince Brian's stead, Titania?"
"Ah..."
Aha. So that was her true aim all along.
Every summer and winter, the imperial family dispatched direct royalty to the two great temples located at opposite edges of the empire to oversee the sacred rites. Centuries ago, the Emperor himself had made the pilgrimage, personally hunting down nearby demonic beasts and purifying the surrounding territories in a grand spectacle. Nowadays, however, sending royalty was little more than keeping up appearances.
Traveling round-trip between the Imperial Palace in the capital and the remote temples took well over two weeks. Conducting the rituals consumed another week, meaning an entire month evaporated into thin air.
Naturally, with the consort scheming day and night to pave her son's path to the throne, the last thing she wanted was to pack Brian off to the boondocks.
Yet if Brian didn't go, Prince Adrian would take his place.
Over Cleo's dead body. Which was precisely why she had set her sights on me—a frail, tender princess who had nearly died only recently—as the sacrificial stand-in.
If I survived this trip, she would likely dump every single summer and winter festival onto Titania's shoulders from here on out.
Well, if she wants to send me, I won't complain. That place is a goldmine.
I had been practically suffocating inside this gilded cage, unable to step outside the imperial grounds under my own power.
Even so, I shifted my eyes anxiously, feigning dread.
"B-but, Your Imperial Highness... that is the edge of the empire. It sounds terrifying, and what if there are demonic beasts along the way...?"
"Now, now, Titania! You are the Empire's sole princess and a direct daughter of the imperial line. Your fiancé, Young Duke Raymon, tirelessly eliminates those very beasts in service of the realm. If you whine over something so trifling, do you not think he would be disappointed?"
"Yes..."
It would have looked ridiculously suspicious if a sheltered child who had never set foot outside the palace eagerly jumped at the chance to visit a perilous wasteland. Feigning fear had done the trick; Cleo immediately brandished her stern maternal tone.
Everything always comes back to Raymon with her, doesn't it? Is his name supposed to be a magic cure-all? Well, to be fair, Titania used to shut right up the second his name was dropped.
The real issue, however, lay elsewhere.
In reality, the Offering Festival was an annual ritual meant to reinforce the barriers sealing away the 'darkness' and lull the corruption back to sleep. The imperial family was historically one of the Five Heroic Houses, but as the wielders of the paramount Power of Light that presided over all others, the emperors of old had personally gathered the descendants of the other hero houses and channeled their power directly.
(Though called five heroes, there were theories of a sixth—the Hero of Darkness, buried by history because their power mirrored demonic beasts too closely.)
However, as the imperial bloodline began losing its divine light, the crown deliberately swept the truth under the rug, degrading the ritual into an empty formality. To make matters worse, the other heroic bloodlines, once worshipped across the land, had gradually fallen into ruin until barely their names remained.
The Castrein family was the sole heroic house that successfully preserved its power. Recognizing the danger, they sheltered the surviving heirs of the collapsing houses and painstakingly preserved their lineages through strategic marriages, since divine power passed through blood.
As a result, Castrein heirs were born with the potential to awaken virtually every form of divine power—save for the lost Power of Light. That didn't mean all of them could wield such powers, of course, but the potential lingered in their veins.
And so, who handled the slaughter of demonic beasts that constantly surged forth as the weakening barrier decayed year after year?
The Castrein Duchy.
Who cleaned up the disastrous aftermath of the rituals—rites meant to be performed by five heroes, now thrown into disarray because the others were useless?
The Castrein Duchy.
They were practically the team leader in a group project where every single teammate had ghosted.
And they couldn't even walk away. If the barrier collapsed, subterranean demonic beasts would flood the realm and turn the empire into a living hell.
Worse yet, the winter ritual was held directly within the Castrein Duchy's territory. It was only natural, considering the core of the entire seal was the Northern Barrier. The summer consecration held at the southern tip was nothing more than a stopgap measure, like pouring warm water over frozen feet.
"..."
Which meant... if things continued like this, summer was one thing, but come winter, I would inevitably have to travel to the Castrein territory, come hell or high water.
Isn't that just a different flavor of suicide?
An imperial princess couldn't simply lodge at any random noble's estate. I would be backed into a corner, with no choice but to stay at the Castrein family's main castle!
Taking advantage of my dazed silence, Imperial Consort Cleo rushed to seal the deal before I could protest.
"Then I shall place my full trust in you, Princess. I will send a priest to attend to your recovery, so be sure to dress prettily and wait obediently. That is, after all, a woman's finest virtue."
"...Yes, Your Imperial Highness."
A woman's virtue, my foot! You just want Titania to sit there quietly like a pretty little doll!
Sobbing internally, my vision blurred at the bleakness of my impending future. I watched the consort's retreating figure and recited mournfully in my head.
Even if I'm lonely, even if I'm sad, I will not cry... Why cry when I can just endure and endure again...? Let's run smiling across the green fields... Singing beneath the blue sky, my name is... My name is Cand—no, Titania... Damn it.
"I want to go home."
Are you listening, whoever you are? Whatever mysterious entity or god shoved me into this body...
If you can hear me, please send me back to my real home in my past life! My sharp-witted mom's soybean paste stew and my gentle, deer-like dad are waiting for me...!