THBO 36

Chapter 36

At the signal telling them to step back for a moment, Kallia and Blanche flinched in surprise, but she nodded faintly, adding a note of insistence.

In the end, the two of them left the room, dragging their feet.

“Alright, young lady. Now that it’s just the two of us, I’ll ask you.”

The fierce glare of an enraged colt began to stab relentlessly into her face.

“Why did you do it?”

At first, she wondered if it was because of an unfulfilled first love.

People drunk on unrequited affection tend to become fools, and Eugénie Riville looked like the sort of person who could do just about anything when driven mad.

But at the same time, Eugénie Riville was deeply self-centered.

A young lady who believed herself clever and always right didn’t seem like the type who would throw herself so easily into love.

“Is it because you like someone?”

As expected.

At the single question, her opponent’s gaze turned icy. There was even a hint of contempt, which left Cecilia dumbfounded.

“Do you think I’m you, going on about love?”

“Oh my, what’s wrong with love?”

“……”

“And what’s wrong with going mad over love? Being able to experience a blaze like that is a blessing. It’s not something just anyone gets to have, you know?”

Whether the nuisance in front of her scoffed or not, Cecilia continued tapping her toes in a steady rhythm.

There are people who can throw everything away for love, and people who cannot.

She didn’t want to look for common ground, but it was clear that both Eugénie Riville and she herself were incapable of going mad for love.

So love was crossed off the list.

“Baron Riville’s daughter. If you have even a shred of sense left, don’t you think that in this situation, answering honestly would be the best choice?”

“……”

“I told you clearly yesterday—”

“You don’t have the right to say that!”

When Cecilia calmly fixed her gaze on her, Eugénie Riville seized the opportunity and began pouring out words in a rush.

“Everywhere I go, all I hear is your name. Honestly, I don’t understand it.”

Cecilia looked at her quietly, as if urging her to continue, and the verbal abuse came pouring out.

“Aren’t you just an adopted imperial princess? You’re not even of the direct line, just a collateral branch—do you even know your place—”

“Oh, I see. So you felt excluded.”

“That’s not it!”

“Until now, you must have been the center of the world.”

The world goes on, even without me.

One of the most important lessons a child learns when growing up.

But it seemed this young lady had never been given the chance to learn it.

“Beloved as your parents’ precious only daughter, your poetry praised by the empire, publishers putting you on a pedestal.”

“No.”

“And then, here, your existence is completely buried, and that irritated you. Because no one pays attention to you.”

“That’s not—!”

A direct hit.

Eugénie Riville slammed her hand on the table and jumped to her feet. Cecilia stood as well, without the slightest agitation.

Looking down at the smaller head, she tugged on the reins.

As if they had been waiting, Kallia and Blanche rushed back into the room.

“Sit down, Eugénie Riville.”

Perhaps the unexpected chill in her tone startled her.

When a dazed look came back in response, Cecilia let out a heavy sigh.

“Well, stand and listen if you want. You’re the one whose legs will hurt.”

Blanche’s pale green eyes hardened, almost turning icy blue.

Stopping her with a glance, Cecilia took paper, a pen, and her reading glasses out of the desk drawer.

After putting on the glasses, she clicked the pen open.

“Eugénie Riville. From this moment on, you are to undergo ten years of self-reflection at the Larietta Convent.”

“What did you say?”

“And from this moment forward, Cecilia Yelizaveta Marisa de Lucien, acting under the delegated authority of Armand Dominique Heinrich de Lucien, Father-God of the Great Empire and the sole sovereign blessed by the Phoenix, hereby revokes the intellectual property and publication rights of House Riville.”

Cecilia adjusted her glasses, her expression impassive.

“This decision applies retroactively to all existing works.”

“……”

“Furthermore, any and all works produced by House Riville shall no longer be recognized as intellectual property, meaning they may not be published by any party whatsoever.”

As the pronouncement continued, Eugénie Riville’s eyes grew wider and wider.

“Made under the witness of Houston and Oper, pillars who safeguard the Empire, this decision shall remain legally binding in perpetuity, unless overturned by the House of Lucien.”

After scribbling down the entire decree, she pressed the imperial seal onto the paper.

Until then, Baron Riville’s daughter could only move her lips, her eyes hollow, as if her soul had left her body.

Cecilia brushed her hair once and began to explain.

“Stripping you of your intellectual property and publication rights means that no matter what kind of poems you write or recite, they will never be made known to the world.”

“Wh-why—”

At the halting question, she answered kindly.

“Who knows whose throat you might cut next with your pen, after slashing even an imperial princess?”

“……”

“You might think it’s excessive to take away the publication rights of the entire baronial house, not just yours… but it’s my own precaution. It would be troublesome if someone else in your family published your poems in your stead.”

And it was obvious what kind of poetry Eugénie Riville would write from now on.

Her resentment at this very moment was painfully clear.

Cecilia let out another long breath.

Did she even realize that, in many ways, I’m her benefactor?

If she spent ten years reflecting in a convent—or even someday after that—would she ever come to think deeply?

“There won’t be a severe financial blow, so don’t worry too much, young lady. House Riville hasn’t produced generations of writers, after all. With silver mines as your main source of income, your family won’t decline.”

“Y-you, you’re—”

“‘Me,’ not ‘you.’ Mind your honorifics, young lady.”

“You said you’d go easy on me if I was honest!”

“……When did I ever say that?”

The young lady’s face turned deathly pale, tears welling in her eyes. She seemed to be seriously debating whether to fall to her knees and beg in disgrace—or to pretend she’d lost her mind and grab Cecilia by the collar.

Not wishing to be grabbed, Cecilia looked at Blanche. Blanche immediately seized the troublemaker by the nape of the neck and dragged her out of the room.

Bang—

The door closed with a rather rough sound.

“Ten years in a convent—not for life, just ten years. Isn’t that a bit short?” Kallia asked, displeasure evident in her voice.

Cecilia smiled faintly.

“Nooo, in the end, all she really suffers is spending ten years in a convent. Not being able to publish poetry—how is that such a big blow?”

For her, it would be a devastating one.

It seemed like receiving people’s attention was the greatest desire of her life.

Unable to endure the mixture of that desire and her inferiority complex, Eugénie Riville had made her entire life explode in spectacular fashion.

“Then why ten years?”

“……I thought that much time might be enough for her to grow up.”

“Huh?”

“Well, not that she seems likely to try walking in someone else’s shoes.”

“That… yeah. I can’t really deny that.”

Cecilia gave a bitter smile as she finished a short note reporting the matter to her mother.

She would explain everything in person later, but it seemed right to notify her in writing first.

Kallia left the room to deliver the note.

As soon as she was alone, Cecilia let all the tension drain from her body and slumped into an armchair.

Her heart was far too clouded by dark storm clouds for her to maintain perfect decorum.

She felt bitter. And absurd.

After staring at the ceiling for a long while, she rose unsteadily.

Removing all her jeweled accessories except for her amethyst necklace, she finally pulled out her hairpin.

Her black hair cascaded down like a waterfall.

She carefully removed even the hidden pins and changed into comfortable slippers.

“I might survive now.”

Rubbing her stiff neck, she entered the bedroom, where a white puppy—unaware of what its owner had just endured—was snoring softly.

Sleeping like that, it looked almost angelic, unlike its usual self.

She watched it for a moment, then gently played with its snow-white front paw.

Perhaps thanks to the familiar warmth, a quiet, sorrowful calm returned to her.

After spending some time beside her pet, Cecilia eventually rose with a long sigh.

Alexis’s spotless white shirt was draped over a chair beside the bed.

After carefully checking for wrinkles or stains, she left the room.

When she reached her younger brother’s door, a servant happened to be coming out.

“It’s a bright afternoon, Your Highness.”

“Hello. Could you ask if it’s alright for me to go in?”

“His Highness instructed that you are to enter at any time.”

“Ah, thank you.”

Were you that curious about what verdict I would pass, Alec?

She smiled faintly and stepped inside.

The blazing summer sunlight poured through the wide glass windows.

It was more dazzling than even the sweeping view of Sharten outside.

But Cecilia’s gaze was not drawn to the golden spectacle, almost tangible like gold dust.

She was looking at the young man sitting quietly on the sofa.

He might have been asleep, but his broad chest rose and fell in a steady rhythm.

The top two buttons of his shirt were comfortably undone.

Cecilia slowly lifted her gaze, taking in his slightly tilted nape, sharp jawline, and sculpted face.

“Huh.”

Alexis was wearing a blindfold. Cecilia stared for a long moment at the jet-black cloth covering his eyes.

[Chapter 4. The Eastern Empire]

A voice suddenly cut through the silence. Cecilia quickly turned her head.

[The key sentiment running through the Eastern Empire may be described as “indomitable spirit.” Recall that when Alexis de Lucien I, the founding emperor, unified the empire, the only region he failed to conquer was the great eastern city of Lant.]

Only then did she notice the book floating at the edge of the sofa, her attention having been stolen by Alexis.

The calm voice resonating from the book continued its narration.

[Lant, which boasts a longer history than the capital Saint-Luc, prides itself on powerful troops, impregnable fortresses, and fertile lands capable of withstanding years of siege. The fact that the eastern front never collapsed during the four wars against the Duchy of Manuel was, in truth, due to Lant’s underlying strength.]

Cecilia stepped lightly closer to her brother, who was still listening to the book with his eyes covered.

Just yesterday, he had been infuriating beyond measure.

Perhaps because of the unusually bright light, his swollen cheek looked even redder than it had in the morning…

The moment she reached out toward his face as if entranced, a strong hand seized her wrist.