Chapter 17
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Translator: Wjin
Chapter: 17
Chapter Title: No Place for the Fake
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Late at night.
Philomel sat blankly at her desk. The face of the man who had kept giving her gifts flickered endlessly before her eyes.
Was it that he couldn't bring himself to celebrate sincerely on the anniversary of his wife's death?
"It's none of my business. I don't care."
Philomel crumpled the letter she was writing in irritation. Not satisfied with that, she tore it into tiny pieces and tossed them into the trash bin.
What she had been writing was her final letter to the Emperor. By the time Justis read it tomorrow, Philomel would already have vanished from this place.
The pen, which had begun with the clichéd salutation "Dearest," wandered lost across the paper. Moments later, she pressed down firmly, stroke by stroke, to write "To Father."
"It's the last one anyway..."
Philomel muttered as if excusing herself.
The next day, in the morning, envoys from Elita arrived at the annex palace.
The Emperor had only shown his face when the envoy delegation first paid their respects before disappearing. Still, compared to the old days when he wouldn't even emerge from his chambers for a full week before and after his wife's death anniversary, it was tremendous progress.
Philomel attended in her role as the imperial family's representative to welcome them and host a meal. However, there was no summons to join the state council. It seemed like Count Polan's consideration, letting her rest on her birthday.
The state council would be followed by Philomel's birthday banquet. Roughly four hours remained until then—plenty of time to complete her planned task.
Though young ladies approached, inviting her to spend time together, Philomel refused firmly.
"Lady Deless. Shall we head out by carriage?"
"I'd love to, but are you sure you don't need some rest? There's the banquet this evening."
"We'll be back soon enough. It'd be a shame to stay cooped up indoors on a day like this."
"The sunlight is lovely today, isn't it?"
She boarded the carriage with only Lady Deless, her escort, and the coachman. An unthinkable act in the imperial palace, but things were far looser at the annex.
Even the maids offering to pack food were turned away, since they wouldn't be gone long.
She gave the coachman the name of a village—the same one from their previous visit.
"Her Highness truly loves observing the common folk's daily lives. You'll make a wise ruler someday."
Lady Deless, seated across from her in the carriage, spoke cheerfully.
She had readily accepted the excuse Philomel gave for visiting the village.
Of course, even she had been stunned at first when Philomel proposed strolling the streets in plain attire.
"You're not planning to venture out into the streets again this time, are you...?"
"No need to worry. Not today."
Philomel reassured the countess and gazed out the carriage window.
A spring breeze carrying the scent of flowers slipped through the slightly open pane. The carriage rattled steadily along the winding road.
After some time, the panorama of a small village began to unfold. Amid the tranquil scenery, the tale of a certain woman rose in her mind.
A foolish woman, blinded by jealousy, who had swapped her own child with the princess. It was Ellensia—and Philomel's birth mother—living in that very village.
Through Princess Ellensia, Philomel had learned her birth mother's name: Katrin Hounds.
She had originally been close friends with the late Empress Isabella.
Katrin and Isabella hailed from the same hometown. Isabella was the daughter of a lord, Katrin from a prosperous merchant family.
Katrin had met Isabella as a child, tagging along with her father who supplied goods to the lord's castle, and the two became friends.
Despite their difference in status, they shared a warm friendship. It revealed Isabella's down-to-earth nature, mingling freely with commoners.
But with the young Emperor's rise, a rift began to grow between them.
The newly ascended Justis was then waging vigorous campaigns of conquest.
A ruthless tyrant drenched in blood, devoid of mercy—that was the common view of Justis.
Visiting a rural territory over army garrison matters, Justis encountered Isabella.
The two swiftly fell into a fateful love.
Justis was captivated by the gentle woman, while Isabella came to love the man who appeared so solitary. Overcoming all opposition, the Emperor wed the daughter of a modest house, making her the Empire's Empress.
Katrin entered the palace as Isabella's lady-in-waiting. Though from a wealthy background, as a rural merchant's daughter, attaining a position as the Empress's attendant—elusive even to nobles—was solely thanks to her friend.
Having risen to the Empress's lady-in-waiting from commoner roots, she should have been content. Yet Katrin nurtured excessive ambition. She yearned for the Emperor's love.
In truth, she had fancied the Emperor from their very first encounter.
"Even as a mere concubine would do. I want to be your woman."
What returned to Katrin's courageous confession was the fury and scorn of the man she adored.
From Justis's standpoint, it was a betrayal by his wife's own friend—unforgivable.
Philomel couldn't fathom what had emboldened her birth mother to make such a brazen confession.
She could only speculate that Katrin had overlooked his tyrannical side, softened as he was into a lamb before his wife.
For his wife's sake, the Emperor spared Katrin's life, mindful of the shock the revelation of her friend's treachery would bring.
Isabella herself, even knowing the truth, would never have wished for Katrin's death.
"Never show your face before us again. Do so, and you'll die."
In the end, Katrin fled weeping back to her hometown.
Soon after, the pregnant Isabella grew increasingly homesick as her due date neared.
Unable to deny his wife's desperate plea to give birth in her homeland, Justis reluctantly permitted her return.
Escorted by the Empire's finest physicians, mages, and midwives, the Emperor vowed to join her himself when the time drew near.
Returning to the lord's castle, now transformed like a palace, the first news Isabella heard was that her friend—whom she'd believed gone far away—was back in town.
Katrin was pregnant as well.
This part intrigued Philomel most, yet the book offered no details on how her birth parents had met.
It merely noted a fleeting connection with some mage, leading to conception.
"Since they're not the protagonist's parents, who cares?"
In any case, to the main story.
Blissfully ignorant of the rift between her husband and friend, Isabella went joyfully to meet Katrin.
Isabella was truly delighted to see her friend, but jealousy had coiled like a monster in Katrin's heart.
Two women pregnant around the same time, yet in utterly contrasting fates.
Isabella, cradled in utmost care by all, versus Katrin, left to birth her child in isolation.
Worse, Katrin still couldn't forget Justis.
It was utterly maddening for Philomel. Her birth father was the Magic Tower Master, after all.
"Tangled with such an extraordinary man, she should have started anew—why obsess over another woman's husband?!"
Philomel, glaring at the innocent landscape, heaved a long sigh.
"Well, there might've been good reason..."
Her birth father had abandoned the pregnant woman, and her birth mother clung to lingering affections for another man. In other words, they had likely been nothing more than a one-night fling from the start.
Philomel tamped down her rising gloom.
Whether her birth parents had loved each other was irrelevant.
What mattered was that Katrin had swapped Ellensia and Philomel—landing her in this dire predicament.
Katrin gave birth first.
The day after, despite everyone's protests, the full-term Isabella insisted on visiting Katrin's home in person.
That was when it happened.
The Empress, days from her due date, suddenly went into labor and nearly fainted.
Rather than risk moving her back to the lord's castle, her attendants opted for delivery on the spot.
Katrin reluctantly yielded her bed.
After hours of agony, the child emerged safely—but Isabella, having hemorrhaged too much, teetered on the brink.
Not even that legion of physicians and mages could save her.
At the very instant the Empress drew her last breath.
The instant everyone present—save one—closed their eyes to pray for her eternal rest.
By chance or cruel fate, Katrin stood near the cradle holding the two newborns.
She swapped their places in a heartbeat.
Fortunate for Katrin, the infants bore striking similarities at birth.
Philomel's hair had then been nearly golden blonde.
Neither had opened their eyes, so their irises remained a mystery.
Later, all who had accompanied the Empress perished, erasing any who knew the birth's intimate details.
Justis's doing—he had lost his mind upon receiving word of his wife's death from the capital.
In the ensuing chaos, Katrin slipped away from her hometown to a remote village, raising Ellensia as her own.
No one questioned the mountain widow's daughter's origins. Thus, Katrin's crime appeared buried forever.
"Your Highness. We've arrived at the place you specified."
The coachman's voice from outside jolted her back.
As the hooves stilled and Marteng opened the door, Philomel alighted.
"In this village, the only house with a green roof up on the hillside is that one."
A quaint cottage stood where Marteng pointed.
A two-story home topped with green roofing.
Even the crudely boarded hole in the roof matched the novel's description precisely.
"The carriage can't climb from here—we'll have to go on foot. Shall I send someone to summon the residents?"
Marteng ventured cautiously.
"I'll go myself."
Philomel shook her head.
And as they neared the hilltop...
"Over there..."
A small, clear voice rang out.
Philomel turned toward it with excruciating slowness.
"Do you have business at our house, by any chance?"
The first sight was hair as radiant as sunlight, beautifully golden. Then, those familiar blue eyes. Cheeks flushed like ripe peaches.
Save for the eye color, a face identical to Empress Isabella's from the portraits.
It was Ellensia.