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Chapter 66
Screams erupted from all around.
Everyone was so startled that they jumped to their feet and stumbled backward in shock.
Erne muttered as she stared at the ruined cake now splattered across Pasina’s face.
“A home run.”
Or was it a strike? Hard to say.
In any case, Erne’s throw was pointlessly precise.
Dusting off her hands, she accepted a handkerchief from a maid and calmly wiped the whipped cream from her fingers. Her expression was composed, as if she had simply done something inevitable.
The other ladies stood with gaping mouths, too stunned to speak at the sight of Pasina’s cream-covered face. The image before them—of the queen violently punishing someone who had crossed her—was shocking even though they had seen it unfold with their own eyes.
Erne, alone among them, remained unfazed.
Naturally so. After all, she had ordered that massive, towering three-tiered cake for this very moment.
Not one person stepped forward to ask Pasina if she was alright or to offer comfort.
Erne, wearing a look of cathartic satisfaction, stood up and delivered a sharp warning without hesitation.
“If you’re going to run your impudent mouth again, you’d better be careful. Next time, it won’t end with just cake in your face.”
Pasina remained frozen in humiliation and disgrace. Erne looked her over once more and added, voice cold with contempt:
“Poor Gal must be weeping. He put so much effort into that cake, only for it to be wasted on such a pathetic target.”
Gal, the palace’s dessert chef, had crafted the cake with great care. Now it lay in ruins on the floor.
Erne clapped her hands once, drawing attention.
It was time to end this pointless tea party.
From that day on, things stayed the same. Erne continued summoning the daughters of central nobility under the pretense of selecting a maid to attend her. Boating parties, tea parties, casual companionship—no one dared refuse the queen’s invitations. Not even Pasina, despite the humiliating incident.
“They’re begging you to stop recruiting maids now.”
“Really?”
“At today’s meeting, the Marquess of Bapura nearly cried. He said that while your wrath is currently focused on Lady Pasina Sibire, there’s no telling when it might shift to his own daughter. Claims he feels like he’s drying up inside from the daily anxiety. There’s even talk—though mostly in jest—that Your Majesty is beginning to resemble the late queen. Maybe tyranny runs in your blood?”
“How odd. I treat all the other young ladies quite kindly—except Pasina, of course.”
As Erne was personally arranging invitation cards for her next gathering, Winzard stepped in and stopped her. He had come to find her right after the council meeting, and there was an unmistakable twinkle of amusement in his eyes.
Even as he recounted the Marquess’s distress and murmurs among the nobles, his smile never left.
Erne tilted her head, puzzled.
“Why are you smiling like that?”
“Am I?”
“I don’t think it’s my imagination.”
When Erne pointed it out directly, Winzard broke into hearty laughter.
“Isn’t it funny? Just the thought of people groveling after remembering that you’re the daughter of the former queen—it’s delightful.”
“Well, my mother was rather… unpredictable.”
Erne had intended to say her mother was a self-centered tyrant, but out of respect for the dead, she chose milder words. Besides, there were maids assisting her nearby, and she felt the need to uphold dignity.
“Thanks to Lady Sibire’s little outburst, all the rumors about your parentage have completely vanished.”
“That’s good. I was prepared to request a paternity test from the temple if someone submitted a formal petition.”
Of course, she’d intended to have Winzard tamper with the results.
But now there was no need. Erne sighed inwardly with relief.
Winzard, watching her quietly, was once again struck with admiration.
The Erne before him now was barely recognizable compared to the one he had known. Once seen as meek, she now displayed unwavering decisiveness, resolve, and true leadership as a ruler.
As her official fiancé, Winzard found every day exhilarating.
He loved hearing of her accomplishments, seeing her act with such control and flair—it all constantly surprised and charmed him.
Winzard grinned mischievously.
“By the way, people still haven’t stopped talking about how you threw that cake at Lady Sibire. And didn’t you ‘accidentally’ shove her into the lake during the boat ride a few days ago?”
“It was when we were disembarking. She just fell. It wasn’t a big deal.”
Erne pouted.
“Well then, what about this? During the recent gift selection event—held to reward noble ladies who helped with your coronation—you gave Lady Sibire the wrong time, didn’t you?”
“Do you think it’s childish?”
Erne glanced at the maids and gave them a subtle signal.
They swiftly bowed out of the office, leaving the two alone.
Now more at ease, Erne waited for his response.
“No,” Winzard said simply.
He couldn’t help laughing again at how vastly Erne had changed since her days in Vanessa. And yet, no matter how different she acted, to him, she was endlessly adorable.
His comments may have sounded like rebuke to others, but Winzard was genuinely enjoying her antics.
“In fact, I hope you go even further.”
“I’d like to, but rumors are already spreading. ‘The queen has marked Lady Sibire.’ ‘She’s tormenting Pasina without cause.’ If this keeps up, I’ll go down in history as a tyrant queen just like my mother.”
Not that she entirely hated the title, but it wasn’t ideal to have such gossip spreading while her position was still unstable.
Erne bit her lip with worry. Winzard gently reassured her.
“Then we give them a reason. Let’s say you have cause for everything you do.”
“Can we really manage that?”
“Haven’t we already made the impossible possible?”
He had a point. And Erne already had a way to make that happen.
But it’s still too soon, she thought.
Her mother’s death, the death of Marquis Demian—there was still no definitive proof.
And most urgently, Erne had not yet dealt with a very important task.
“First things first—constitutional reform. That has to come before anything else.”
“We’ve laid the groundwork in the policy meeting, but as expected, most were skeptical.”
“You can’t expect a feast from the first spoonful.”
Winzard smiled fondly at her bold resolve.
He adored her as much in this radiant and confident form as when she had once leaned on him in sorrow and despair.
Feeling competitive for no reason, Winzard clenched his fist.
“I’ll take care of Lady Babylon.”
“…You’re not going to kill her, right?”
Erne looked at him warily. He nodded solemnly.
“Of course not. I still remember the teachings I received in Vanessa.”
Erne glanced at him with narrowed eyes, clearly unconvinced. Winzard quickly turned away to avoid her gaze.
“I mean, I could handle it myself, you know.”
“No, thank you.”
“But it’s also my personal revenge…”
“I said no. I don’t even want you meeting that guy. The way he looks at you—it’s insulting.”
“You’re always so extreme.”
“Only when it comes to you.”
“…You never let anything slide, do you?”
“What do you mean? I’m the most docile fiancé in the world.”
Erne puffed her cheeks in protest. Lately, Winzard had gotten way too good at witty comebacks.
She couldn’t tell if that was a good thing or not.
“I liked it better back in Vanessa. Even if it smelled like cow dung, the grapes were sweet. And most of all, I got to spend way more time with the teacher.”
Shuknen rubbed his chin.
Erne had been getting busier by the day, and their time together was shrinking.
When he had followed her to the palace, he had been overjoyed. But even though Erne tried to make time for him, her new responsibilities left little room.
“Well, at least when I hung out with that maid who used to be the teacher’s, it was kind of fun.”
Shuknen puffed out his cheeks and sulked, dragging the toe of his shoe across the dirt aimlessly.
“Master Shuknen.”
A familiar voice reached him, and a shadow fell over his head.
He looked up and blinked in surprise, then beamed.
“You! When did you get back?!”
“I’ve returned, Master Shuknen.”
Standing before him was Belli, who hadn’t been seen for over two weeks.
“The teacher said you were going home, but it’s been more than half a month! Did something happen?”
“Yes… It’s really been a while, hasn’t it?”
Her face was calm, though a shadow of sadness passed over it.
Even though her own son still saw her as just a maid, Belli was thankful for even that. Her nose stung with emotion.
“Do you know how much trouble you caused the teacher? There was no one to help her! Do you even know what happened while you were gone? The makeup maids had no sense of style at all! I mean, they—”
Shuknen, who had been rattling off complaints nonstop, suddenly stiffened.
“Belli. Why are you looking at me like that? I know I’m good-looking—I take after my dad.”
“It’s just… it’s been so long. I missed you, Master Shuknen. May I… hug you, just once?”
Belli had wanted to return to Shuknen for the past two weeks, but couldn’t. Ever since she learned the truth—that he was her son—her longing had only grown.
“What? All of a sudden? That’s kid stuff! I’m too grown-up for that!”
His face turned red as he refused, but the moment Belli opened her arms, he grumbled and muttered, yet quietly leaned into her embrace.
As Belli patted his back gently, she smiled bitterly, her heart aching with all the truths she had learned during their time apart.
