Chapter 10
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Translator: Wjin
Chapter: 10
Chapter Title: You're No Liar
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“Drip.”
But at that very moment.
Emperor Justis bent down to meet Philomel's eye level.
He wiped away the tears streaming down her small cheek with his hand.
“You're not a liar.”
“......!”
“If you were a liar, then I'd be one too. I heard it all.”
“Y-Your, Your Majesty!”
In an instant, the marchioness's pretty face drained of all color, turning as pale as a ghost.
Logan, finally grasping the situation, threw himself flat on the ground.
“......I have committed a mortal sin! In my worry over my foolish little brother, I made a grave mistake!”
“B-brother?”
Liam staggered backward.
“What's wrong? Everyone said it. That Your Majesty had chosen you as your heir......”
“Shut your mouth!”
Thwack! Logan smacked his brother's head.
“Brother, why'd you hit me! Sob, ugh......”
Liam burst into pitiful sobs. It was total pandemonium.
“Your Majesty, what my brother said is untrue. Neither I nor our parents ever told him anything like that.”
“Y-yes! My son has such a wild imagination—he must have mistaken his fantasies for reality.”
The two who had branded Philomel a liar were now doing the same to Liam.
Liam's face twisted in profound shock at this betrayal from his own family, whom he had trusted.
“Enough.”
The commotion died down at the voice cold as ice.
“I've been too careless. To think they'd conspire in treason right before my eyes.”
A warm breeze blew, yet the air suddenly felt frigid. If she was this frightened, how must they feel?
“Th-that, well, you see......”
Marchioness Elos of House Elos trembled, barely able to string words together. Logan, who had been strutting around so cleverly, went ashen, his lips sealed tight as if glued shut.
“Sylvia, I've left you untouched all this time because you weren't worth dirtying my hands over.”
“J-Justis......”
Marchioness Elos crumpled to the ground. Sylvia, the former princess, looked utterly wretched as she called out to her half-brother.
“If you don't want your heads to roll right here, take your brats and get out. I'm not in the mood to see blood today.”
And with that, the three vanished.
Philomel later heard that Marquis Elos's title and fortune were confiscated, and Sylvia along with her two sons had their names struck from the imperial registry.
Those erased from the imperial registry had their divine power sealed away and were forced to live like commoners under constant surveillance for life.
For the crime of treason, it was a lenient punishment—but everyone knew the Elos family hadn't actually plotted rebellion. They just couldn't keep their son's mouth shut.
Philomel found out down the line that even there, they strutted around like nobles, got shunned by their neighbors, and couldn't even scrounge a bowl of soup.
But that was a story for another time. Right now, what mattered more to Philomel was the man striding away, already far ahead.
‘......Scary.’
So ruthless even to his real blood kin—how would he treat a fake daughter like her? It was obvious.
Then, as if sensing her with ghostly intuition, the emperor turned.
“Not walking?”
“......Y-yes?”
“A walk. You said let's go?”
Right—the walk!
She had completely forgotten amid the chaos with those three.
Philomel scurried after the emperor, chattering about what a model student she was and how the teachers showered her with praise.
Justis offered only curt replies like “I see,” “Yes,” and “Not bad,” but Philomel took heart in the fact that he responded at all.
As the walk wound down, Philomel stole a glance at him and ventured a question.
“Your Majesty, do you perhaps hate walks?”
“Not especially fond of them. But I chased off a clueless bug that wouldn't stop buzzing around, so I suppose I should make an occasional appearance.”
‘The bug must mean the marchioness and her sons.’
Philomel opened her mouth cautiously.
“Then... could we walk together like this sometimes in the future?”
“......With me?”
“Yes!”
“It'll be boring.”
“I'd still like that.”
Surely his “boring” didn't mean the life-endangering kind of boring......?
Unaware of Philomel's inner turmoil, the emperor replied softly.
“All right.”
“Wow!”
Wait—no, that's not right.
Philomel snapped to her senses and bowed politely.
“Thank you for granting my request.”
“......You can act normal.”
“Pardon? I'm sorry, I didn't catch that—could you say it once more......?”
“Forget it. Do whatever.”
Justis said nothing more and walked on in silence. Philomel followed quietly, admiring the beautiful garden.
From that day on, whenever the emperor overindulged the night before, Philomel made it her routine to barge into his bedroom the next morning with a steaming cup of premium hangover herb tea.
Count Polan, eager to curb His Majesty's drinking habits, cooperated eagerly by providing tips.
Justis would glare daggers at the count but downed the tea every time.
Afterward, the two would take a light stroll through the garden.
“My composition teacher said I'm the sharpest student she's ever taught!”
“Good for you.”
“Is it just flattery because I'm the princess?”
“She was my teacher too, and she wasn't one for bootlicking.”
“But I'm not that good... Whoa!”
Philomel, trotting along, tripped over her own feet and tumbled down.
“Ugh......”
Her knee felt scraped raw. The stinging pain brought tears to her eyes unbidden.
‘Can't stay down like this. Gotta get up fast......’
Otherwise, the emperor would surely ditch her. Or worse, gaze at her with pitiful disdain for bawling over something so trivial.
“You okay?”
But Justis turned back. He even asked if she was all right.
“It's nothing!”
Philomel scrambled up and hobbled forward a bit. He stared at her intently before drawing near.
Moments later, Philomel's body floated into the air. Justis had scooped her up by the waist with both arms!
“Y-Your, Your Majesty!”
Flustered, Philomel squirmed.
“Hold still.”
“B-but......!”
“Only imperial family members are allowed here—no one else to carry you.”
“But... you'll get tired, Your Majesty.”
“Me? You must think I'm some half-dead corpse.”
Justis readjusted his hold until he found the most comfortable position, then resumed their walk.
The situation was so excruciatingly awkward that Philomel kept fidgeting nonstop.
“If it's uncomfortable, just endure it.”
‘Endure this?!’
His chest was rock-hard, sure—but that was nothing compared to the mental agony.
“If you hate it that much, go to sleep.”
As if she could drift off peacefully like that.
And yet... Philomel closed her eyes anyway.
And astonishingly, she actually fell asleep.
Lady Deless spotted the emperor cradling the sleeping princess and hurried over in surprise.
“Oh dear, you must be exhausted. Makes sense—on days you visit His Majesty, you always rise at dawn.”
“......”
“You must want to bring him tea whenever he coughs.”
“......I see.”
Lady Deless swallowed hard.
She knew better than anyone how diligently Philomel pushed herself. Anyone would want to help seeing that tiny frame work so hard.
Besides, the emperor's expression as he held her daughter seemed... oddly amenable.
Gathering her courage, the countess ventured,
“I heard the late Empress Isabella loved strolling in the garden too.”
“......She enjoyed flower-viewing.”
His response emboldened her.
“Her Highness must take after the late Empress. She wakes early every time just to walk with Your Majesty.”
His blue eyes, lost in reminiscence, softened with memory.
“Isabella always gazed at the scenery during our walks. I was the one stealing glances at the person beside her.”
Justis looked down quietly at his daughter.
“So maybe this child takes after me more than Isabella.”
At that moment, a nightingale perched on a nearby branch trilled.
Lady Deless missed the finer details of the emperor's words about the empress amid the birdsong. But she clearly caught the final remark—that the princess resembled him.
Truth be told, after months of watching over Her Highness up close, the countess couldn't agree less that she took after the emperor.
Still, in terms of their father-daughter bond, it was undoubtedly a positive sign.