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Chapter 40
The Spring Banquet (3)
The Emperor’s Entrance.
At the attendant’s announcement, every noble gathered in the grand hall dropped to one knee and bowed their heads.
It wasn’t only the weight of the title Emperor that silenced them—everyone present knew what he had done to seize the throne. None dared to move carelessly.
Perhaps the Emperor could sense the atmosphere himself.
Without a word, he passed between the nobles and took his seat at the highest place in the hall. Then, he lifted his hand ever so slightly.
“Raise your heads and offer your greetings to His Majesty the Emperor.”
The chief attendant’s voice rang out clearly, and the nobles straightened one after another.
“We offer greetings to His Supreme Majesty.”
“We offer greetings to His Supreme Majesty.”
“We offer greetings to His Supreme Majesty.”
As if rehearsed, the nobles spoke in perfect unison.
The Emperor accepted their greetings with a light gesture, then turned his gaze toward the right-hand door of the hall, which had yet to close.
“Her Majesty the Empress enters.”
The Empress appeared, wearing an ornate gown embroidered with gold thread.
However, unlike the Emperor’s grand reception, there was no overwhelming welcome.
She didn’t seem to expect one either. After acknowledging the nobles’ polite bows with a nod, she proceeded to the seat prepared slightly below the Emperor’s throne and sat down.
“His Highness the Princes enter.”
The introduction was much simpler this time.
Yet the moment Kaiden appeared, the nobles couldn’t help but exhale soft murmurs of admiration.
His neatly combed black hair, the handsome forehead beneath, the strong black brows, and those red eyes—
Dressed in a black formal uniform, he was the spitting image of the Emperor’s youth.
“B–Brother, wait for me…”
When the nobles belatedly noticed the Third Prince, Ashad, beside him, they instinctively glanced toward the Empress.
Ashad was only up to Kaiden’s waist in height. Though he shared the same black hair, his pale blue eyes exuded weakness rather than authority.
Even as he followed behind Kaiden, he dared not walk beside him.
It was then the nobles realized how absurd the Empress’s plan was—to make that boy the next Crown Prince.
The next Emperor will be His Highness Kaiden.
The Emperor said nothing, yet everyone felt the same conviction.
No one could imagine a future where Ashad overtook Kaiden for the throne.
Even Berenice, who knew that before her return it had somehow happened, couldn’t understand how it was ever possible.
It must’ve been the Empress’s doing.
She glanced at the Empress, whose face had hardened as she watched the two princes, and silently muttered to herself.
Berenice’s amber eyes turned cold.
Meanwhile, the two princes took their seats, and the Emperor finally spoke.
“Those who are to receive the coming-of-age ceremony, step forward.”
His voice was not loud, but carried an unmistakable authority.
The young nobles dressed in white hesitantly gathered before him.
Berenice also moved forward, joining Lowell and Iona at their side.
“From today until the day you die, you shall bear an obligation you must never cast aside.”
The Emperor’s eyes swept over the white-clad youths.
“Live for Egonid. That is your duty and your responsibility—never forget it.”
“We shall remember His Supreme Majesty’s teaching.”
“We shall remember His Supreme Majesty’s teaching.”
The young nobles replied in unison, exactly as they had practiced. The Emperor nodded in satisfaction.
“Then, enjoy this final night of your youth as you wish.”
Though no one cheered aloud, every person in the hall welcomed his words.
It was the signal—the true beginning of the joyous banquet.
Musicians began to play, and the nobles moved aside, clearing the center of the hall for tonight’s main participants.
At the heart of the newly opened floor stood the young nobles who, when the moon set and the sun rose, would officially be adults.
Their faces glowed with excitement as they searched for their dance partners.
The ribbons tied around each of their wrists fluttered lightly—like threads binding them to their chosen companions.
Only those with white ribbons on their wrists stood apart, unable to join the central circle. They were the ones without partners or lovers.
Berenice, now officially broken off from Naion, also wore a white ribbon.
My first dance is to be with Father, anyway.
Some others with white ribbons had already taken the floor, dancing with their parents or siblings to the music.
But… do I really have to dance?
Her corset was tight, her stomach empty, and she was exhausted from lack of sleep. To think she now had to move for the opening dance—it was almost more tiring than revenge itself.
Being a noble of Egonid is more exhausting than avenging my past, she sighed inwardly, scanning the crowd for the Marquis.
Then—
“Berenice, would you grant me the honor of the first dance?”
Naion extended his hand toward her.
Berenice stared at that hand for a moment, then let out a quiet laugh.
The Count’s orders, no doubt.
She remembered now—it was the Earl of Blaze’s command that had led Naion to drag her down with him to their deaths in her previous life.
Will this foolish man die for the same reason again?
There was no scenario in which Naion survived this time.
He would die again—perhaps not from a fall, but he would die.
Interpreting her faint smile however he pleased, Naion looked encouraged.
“I told you before,” she said clearly, “the engagement between Wiltierra and Blaze has been annulled.”
She emphasized the words engagement and annulled, and the murmur that began nearby spread swiftly through the hall.
Was it too unexpected?
Berenice smiled softly at Naion’s stiffened face.
“That means, Lord Blaze, I have no reason to dance with you.”
“…Are you trying to humiliate me?”
“Humiliate you? So I must nod just because you ask me to dance?”
“Berenice!”
“Lord Blaze—if you dare speak my name again, I won’t hold back.”
That word—dare—clearly struck something deep inside Naion.
His face, smug only moments ago, flushed bright red.
Berenice smirked faintly, delighted by the sight, and glanced around.
The nobles who had only been stealing glances moments before were now watching openly.
Seeing that she had everyone’s attention, Berenice straightened her back and spoke, her voice calm yet sharp enough to cut.
“I have no intention of starting over with you, Lord Blaze. To be clear, my only regret is ever being engaged to someone like you. Now, move aside.”
Was it the insult that enraged him?
Naion’s face turned crimson, his whole body trembling uncontrollably, unable to even think to hide it.
Pathetic.
Now everyone knows the Earl of Blaze’s son was raised poorly, she thought with cold satisfaction.
And they all now knew—the Wiltierra and Blaze engagement was truly over.
That was why she had allowed him to rant such nonsense before her.
Just as Berenice was about to walk past him toward the Marquis, savoring her unexpected victory—
“Bere—ghk!”
Naion reached out to grab her, apparently forgetting her warning. But before his hand could touch her, someone seized his wrist in a crushing grip, halting him mid-motion.
Naion grimaced from the pressure and turned angrily to the person restraining him.
“Who—?!”
“Why? Curious who dared to twist your wrist?”
Naion gasped.
Standing there was Kaiden—who, only moments earlier, had been sitting at his place, expression unreadable.
The sudden movement drew startled whispers from all around.
“If you’ve been refused, it’s time to step back, don’t you think?”
“Y–Your Highness…”
“It’s my turn now.”
Kaiden didn’t wait for a reply. He released Naion’s wrist and turned toward Berenice, extending his hand with a gentle smile.
“Berenice Wiltierra—
would you grant me the honor of the first dance?”
