Proof of Perfection
A few days later, in the vast audience chamber of the imperial palace. Before the echoes of that hellish battle could even fade, Serian once again stood in the most splendid and breathtaking place in the entire empire.
The Emperor’s low voice rang out from the throne. “Serian Elhardt.”
She advanced step by step like a prisoner walking to the gallows. On either side, the empire’s highest nobles and generals stood in rigid lines, watching her with bated breath. Their eyes swirled with reverence, jealousy, and a fear they could not quite name.
She stopped at the designated spot before the throne and knelt in a posture of flawless discipline.
A murmur spread through the hall like a wave.
“So that’s the Blue Comet…”
“A tactic of deliberately crashing to carve out the enemy commander? I’ve never heard of such a thing.”
“Using a divine artifact as bait, no less… How can someone so young possess such audacity…”
All the voices brushed past her ears like distant ringing.
The Emperor rose slowly from his seat. His golden eyes brimmed with satisfaction.
Is hereby bestowed the title of
Along with the Golden Griffin Grand Cross, the Empire’s highest military honor, in recognition of capturing an impregnable fortress, forging a new blade for the realm, and seizing victory by casting herself into the jaws of death.
General Clausewitz approached in person, bearing the medal. The cold weight of the metal settled onto her shoulder like an unbreakable shackle.
Serian slowly raised her head. With a perfectly empty smile and eyes devoid of any emotion, she faced the Emperor and delivered the answer her training demanded.
“For the glory of the Empire.”
I only wanted to run away. I only wanted to ruin the project somehow and disappear quietly. So why… why have I become the empire’s hero?
The Emperor smiled in satisfaction. At that signal the entire audience chamber erupted in thunderous applause and cheers.
Yet none of it reached Serian’s ears. She simply held her vacant smile in place, repeating a single phrase inside her head.
Ah, we’re fucked—
“No waaaaay.”
Serian lay sprawled across the sofa in her laboratory like a corpse. The newly bestowed Golden Griffin Grand Cross gleamed ominously on the shoulder of her uniform—an indelible brand, a shackle clamped onto a fugitive rather than a symbol of honor.
“This can’t be happening… uwaaaaaah…”
The harder she tried to escape, the deeper the current dragged her. The more she attempted to sabotage the project, the more magnificent the achievement that returned to her. This was a curse. A cruel, perfect curse.
As she buried her face in the sofa cushion, drowning in despair, a knock sounded at the door.
“Little one~!”
Ella entered with a cheerful bounce. “Hmm? Why does the empire’s hero look so utterly deflated!”
She grinned at the sight of Serian’s limp form. “Don’t make such a lifeless face. I’ve brought news that’s perfect for you.”
With a meaningful smile, Ella produced something from her pocket. An invitation so heavily decorated in gold leaf that it was almost painful to look at.
“You’ve worked hard. It’s time to enjoy yourself a little. Here—an invitation to the victory celebration banquet, hosted personally by the imperial family!”
Serian’s face crumpled openly. “Ugh… gross. This is disgusting.”
“What? Disgusting?!”
“I’m not going. Absolutely not.”
Born as the only daughter of one of the five great magical houses, the social scene was an inescapable fate. Yet she loathed it with every fiber of her being. A den of masked wolves. A zero-efficiency emotional labor field packed with empty laughter, barbed compliments, and subtle probing.
And an imperial banquet on top of that? The highest circle of that very hell. Just thinking about it made her skin crawl. Why on earth would she go there?
“…I really don’t want to gooo.”
When Serian began whining like a child, Ella let out a soft chuckle. “This time it’ll be difficult to refuse. I hear the Seventh Princess—who never attends external events—has decided to make a special appearance just for you.”
…The princess?
Serian’s brain stalled for a second. The annoyance level had transcended dimensions.
“Ugh, that makes it even worse! I’m not going, I’m not going!”
She buried her face in the sofa and refused to move. After roughly ten minutes of this, as she lay there having surrendered to everything, a single spark of light flashed through her mind.
…Wait a minute.
Her brain began spinning at dangerous speed.
That’s right. Why didn’t I think of this sooner?
The vacant look in Serian’s eyes suddenly glittered with sly, razor-sharp intelligence.
There was more than one way to fail a project and get fired!
That’s it. This time I’ll fail politically and socially!
If she could make herself thoroughly hated in noble society, drown in scandals, and be labeled a ‘genius with a completely broken personality,’ then even the Emperor would have no choice but to cast her aside. He might even dismiss her outright for damaging the empire’s prestige.
This was the answer.
Serian sprang up from the sofa like a released spring. The gloom of moments earlier had vanished, replaced by the pure ecstasy of someone who had discovered a hidden exit in a maze.
But Ella interpreted that vibrant expression in an entirely different way.
…That look in her eyes.
Ella swallowed unconsciously. The whining child from seconds ago had disappeared. In her place was the expression Ella knew all too well—the chilling, predatory gaze of a gambler who had sighted prey. She must have worn the same look when she leaped from the sky above Silver Horn Fortress to gut the enemy commander.
“Senior.”
“Eh? Uh, y-yes? What is it?”
Startled by the abrupt change in atmosphere, Ella stammered.
Serian snatched the invitation from Ella’s hand and spoke in a tone far more serious than before.
“I’ll go. No—I must go.”
This was no longer the sulking of a spoiled girl who didn’t want to attend a party. These were the eyes of a general standing before another invisible battlefield.
A shiver raced down Ella’s spine.
She has to go?
Could it be that to this girl, banquets and battlefields were the same? Simply different stages upon which to seize something?
The imperial palace’s hidden power struggles, the nobles’ factional wars. Perhaps Serian intended to dive straight into that arena and claim yet another prize.
Ella gazed at the genius who already seemed to be reading moves on an entirely different plane, her eyes filled with reverence.
Oblivious to those thoughts, Serian twisted one corner of her mouth upward like a villain and declared,
“A hero of war cannot possibly miss the victory banquet, can she?”
The grand banquet hall of the imperial palace—the Hall of the Sun. Dozens of enormous chandeliers bathed the space in golden light as though scattering glittering dust, while the empire’s finest orchestra filled the magnificent hall with a lively waltz.
Laughter, the clink of crystal, the mingled scents of costly perfume and exquisite food. It was a space that distilled the empire’s glory and extravagance into a single intoxicating atmosphere.
To Serian, however, it looked no different from a scene out of hell.
…It’s suffocating.
The evening gown, lavishly adorned with lace and jewels, felt like a restraint binding her entire body. Deep navy silk flowed over skin as white as fresh snow. The design boldly revealed her slender shoulders and back in a provocative cut.
The person who had chosen this dress was none other than Serian herself.
Her plan had been simple. At a banquet already swirling with envy, jealousy, and vicious rumors, if she appeared in such an outrageous gown and displayed decadent, arrogant behavior, the rumor that the battlefield hero has lost her mind and fallen into luxury and pleasure would spread in no time.
Yet her ‘Political Downfall Plan Phase 1’ had already failed spectacularly the moment she stepped into the hall.
The instant she entered, every sound inside the Hall of the Sun died as if by magic.
Every gaze in the room snapped toward her like iron to a lodestone.
Golden chandelier light shattered across her silver hair. Her deep blue eyes, the color of a midnight sea, quietly scanned the hall without a trace of emotion.
And then there was the dress. The rich navy silk created a dramatic contrast against her pure white skin, like starless night against fresh snow.
An unapproachable dignity. A cool, absolute aura that made anyone hesitate to even speak.
The guests unconsciously held their breath. It felt as though they stood before a war goddess who had descended from the battlefield itself.
What they saw was not the frivolous hero fallen into decadence that Serian had hoped for. Instead, that overwhelming presence paradoxically proved the truth of her accomplishments.
The provocative dress revealed skin that was flawlessly white, without a single scar.
In that moment, everyone in the hall reached the same conclusion.
Someone whispered in astonishment, “Look… at that unblemished back.”
Even after fighting on that brutal battlefield, even after clashing directly with the enemy empire’s archmage, she had not allowed a single effective strike. Was this not the very proof of perfection?
Of course, Serian interpreted those admiring gazes and reverent silence in a completely different way.
Hehe, look at those faces. They all seem properly shocked.
She savored what she believed to be waves of contempt and disgust pouring over her, and simply smiled in satisfaction.