RR 01

Chapter : 01

Emblin stared straight ahead without blinking once. The candle placed on the table cast a reddish shimmer over her turquoise eyes.

She sat with her back perfectly straight. Her hands were clenched tightly in her lap. Her luxuriant hair, flowing down to her hips, was braided firmly so that not a single strand escaped. Yet beneath her dress, her legs trembled at even the faintest draft.

The hall was filled with boisterous laughter. Outside the window, the capital city lay submerged in its usual gloomy, ash-gray silence. But at this time every year, it seemed to awaken from a deep sleep, brimming with life.

It was the Harvest Festival. The one day of the year everyone eagerly awaited—a festival of abundance and splendor. All the nobles of Slorland gathered in the capital to pay their taxes to the king and enjoy the three-day banquet he bestowed.

At this time, the storehouses of the capital and every domain were thrown wide open. Bread, fruit, and wine were provided so that no one would go hungry. Because of that, it was the happiest and most joyous time of the year.

Emblin’s red lips twisted coldly. Yet everyone forgot one thing—who had made this day possible. It was her mother, Meril Rediang. And yet, another woman was playing the role of mistress of the house at the festival.

Caught in Emblin’s icy gaze was that woman: Yohas Lorem. Truly a remarkable seductress—the woman who had ensnared her father. Because of her, Meril had been cast aside right after her wedding night. Her father had built the current prosperity thanks to the Rediang estate that belonged to Meril, yet he let his mistress parade as the lady of the house.

“Hmph.”
She muttered under her breath.

“Utterly vulgar.”

She had been taught that a noble should at least never lose their dignity. But perhaps because Yohas Lorem came from a lesser noble house, she had neither dignity nor shame. All smiles to everyone in order to make her bastard son the heir to the throne. The people of the capital even called her “Kind Yohas.”

Emblin let out a quiet sigh and glanced upward. Music, cheerful voices, laughter—every sound drifted upward. Meril was probably closing her eyes with a face twisted in pain. Or perhaps writhing in agony, having a seizure. Still, at least it was the third day. Once today passed, she would be better again.

Just then, someone pulled out the chair beside her and sat down. She didn’t look. It would only offend her eyes.

“Emblin.”

Hmph! Emblin snorted coldly. How dare he call her name. She spoke sharply, her back straight.

“Mind your manners.”

Maser chuckled softly. A truly stubborn princess. But Maser was no pushover either.

“I’ve got a very high-class piece of information, and I think you really need it.”

Emblin pretended not to hear. Maser—the bastard born between her father and Yohas—was her age. It wasn’t his fault he had been born a bastard, but trying to trample her and climb above her certainly was.

Despite her ignoring him, Maser kept talking.

“Looks like you’ll be getting married soon.”

At that, Emblin’s head turned toward him of its own accord. Maser winked playfully.

“Interested now?”

“Shut up.”

“Aren’t you curious? Who you’ll be marrying? Hmm… who was on the list again…?”

Emblin turned her gaze forward again. She didn’t want to hear it. Marriage—how dreadful. Until last year, she had been branded as unable to function as a woman because her first menstruation was so late. Normally, noble girls had their first period at thirteen, then married and bore children. She was far behind.

Her father had said cruelly to her, who had never once received a proposal:

“How can my only daughter not even be fit to be a woman? There’s nothing about you I like.”

That humiliation left a deep wound in her heart, but she had comforted herself that it was better than being toyed with by a man.

And yet, in the spring of her seventeenth year, her period finally began. Seeing the blood at dawn, she had cried endlessly. It was so sorrowful to realize that she, too, would have to turn along the wheel of fate.

But her body was still like a withered branch. Hardly any womanly curves showed. Then again, it was no wonder. For seventeen years, Emblin had never slept in peace. Always tense, always anxious, always sad, always angry. Even now, when her strength hit bottom, her period would stop. How could such a body ever bloom like a flower?

Even for a political marriage, bearing an heir was basic, so she had secretly thought no one would ever propose… Yet her face stiffened.

Maser spoke as if granting her a favor.

“If you call my name once, I’ll tell you.”

Emblin replied icily.

“You’ll never escape being a bastard, even if you die. Wake up from your dream.”

“No, I’ll become the heir. And you’ll soon be married off to some old man. Far away, too.”

An old man? A chill ran down Emblin’s spine. The feeling that Maser’s joking words might be true struck her hard. Maser said as if advising her:

“So, my twin-like sister whom I’m supposed to hate—start finding a way to survive now. Use everything you have and find an escape route. Otherwise, you’ll die because of your own temperament.”

Emblin’s brow twisted. What? But Maser wasn’t finished.

“I don’t like you either, but I understand your hatred. I’d feel the same if I were you. So find a way to live and leave.”

Emblin turned to him, her face pale. Seventeen years old. Her half-brother. Maser—the son her father loved so terribly.

At that moment, Meril’s scream seemed to echo in her head.

“If you had been a son, Noren wouldn’t have abandoned me!”

If she had been a son, he surely wouldn’t have. Because she was born a daughter, Meril had become miserable. Meril had said it endlessly, and every time, it had choked her breath. Even now it did. Just the brief memory made it hard to breathe, and the little air that escaped came out trembling.

Emblin hurriedly looked away and said,

“What would you know?”

“Do you know when you look the most pitiful?”

Emblin stubbornly pressed her lips together. She wouldn’t respond. Despicable bastard.

Maser said with a smile,

“When you don’t know your place. Queen Meril at least had enormous wealth, but you have nothing. Do you know what that means? It means you have no value at all, Princess of the Tower.”

It felt as if a cracking sound rang out from Emblin’s proud face. Though Maser spoke mockingly, it was the truth. Meril had once been the sole heir to the richest Rediang estate in Slorland, but now she was just a madwoman. People called her Mad Meril.

And Emblin had nothing. No guardian, no property. Cold sweat ran down her spine without her realizing it. If my mother dies, then I…

She unconsciously looked toward her father. A stranger dancing joyfully with Yohas. A man who would have no trouble discarding her. From the moment she was born until now, he had never once smiled at her, hugged her, or shown her any interest. Whenever they happened to meet, he usually humiliated her.

Living in the same castle, yet complete strangers. He probably wished only for her and her mother to die. Unable to kill them with his own hands, he must be waiting for them to die on their own. Then Yohas could officially become queen, and Maser could be named heir.

Hatred surged up, scorching her throat. Emblin spat through clenched teeth,

“An ungrateful man.”

The person she despised most was her father. Others might praise and revere him as the greatest king in history, but Emblin knew what he really was—a shrewd opportunist, drunk on power and desire, who had betrayed trust. So Maser was probably right. He would try to get rid of her, the obstacle, by any means.

All expression drained from Emblin’s face. What should I do now…? Who should I cling to? Should I speak to Cardinal Mille? Would he take my side? Would he stand up for me?

But what should I even ask him for? To stop the marriage? To let me live by my mother’s side? To let me become a nun instead?

Her vision went dark. Her chest felt heavy, and it seemed as if all sound vanished from her ears. She didn’t even know what she truly wanted.

Without a word, Emblin rose from her seat. If she stayed, she felt she would vomit. Then more rumors would spread and torment her. She straightened her back and walked away, without a single hint of disorder—head held high, proud and haughty.

But there was nowhere to go. She wasn’t allowed to take refuge in the tower, and there was no suitable place to hide. Where should she go? A self-mocking smile formed on her lips.

Emblin Ackers. The only child of King Ackers V of Slorland and Queen Meril Rediang.

She muttered under her breath,

“What a waste of a name.”

This was the castle where she had been born and raised, and her status was nobler than anyone’s—yet there was no place for her anywhere. As she wandered aimlessly, her face grew pale.