IWAPUF 41

A murmur of discontent slipped from Bin’s lips. The piercing gaze of the First Imperial Consort
turned toward the concubine. Flinching under that stare, the concubine shrank back, her shoulders
hunching.
“Apologize,” the Consort commanded.
“I’m sorry, Your Majesty,” the concubine replied, her voice reluctant as she rose and bowed her
Head toward the Empress.
“It’s alright, Bin,” the Empress said, her tone measured. “Ignorance can lead to such
mistakes.”
At the Empress’s words, Bin’s cheek twitched faintly. The Empress had meant to suggest that
ignorance was no crime, but to the concubine, the remark seemed to sting, laced with
condescension. Whether their relationship was cordial or strained mattered little to me, so I turned
my gaze away from them and fixed it on the First Imperial Consort.
She was already watching me. Her eyes, sharp as a honed blade, bore into me with unrelenting
focus. I met her stare, curling my lips into a wry smile.
I’m no saint, generous enough to indulge those who harbor hostility toward me. There was no
need to extend kindness to the First Imperial Consort, who regarded me with such enmity. If she
saw me as an enemy, then I would treat her as one in return. Especially with an adversary as
formidable as her, I couldn’t afford to leave even the slightest opening.
“I had no idea the young lady was so well-versed in imperial etiquette,” she said, her voice laced
with a subtle edge.
Eight years as the Empress, and over a decade in the imperial palace, if you counted her time as
Crown Princess—etiquette was something that became second nature, whether she liked it or not.
“As someone soon to enter the palace as Crown Princess, it’s only natural I’d be familiar with
imperial customs,” I replied smoothly.
Her eyebrow arched slightly at my words. The word “soon” had clearly struck a nerve, just as I’
d intended. I’d chosen it deliberately to provoke her.
My entry into the palace meant I would become the Crown Princess. It also meant the inner court,
which the First Imperial Consort had dominated until now, would be divided. My words were
nothing short of a challenge.
“I hope things turn out as the young lady says,” she replied, her smile cryptic. Whether it hinted
At some scheme to thwart my entry, or was it merely a bluff, her expression gave nothing away.
“Having already come of age, it’s something that could happen at any moment,” I countered.
“It’s the Crown Prince’s marriage,” she shot back. “Do you think it will happen so quickly?”
“I thought the same, Your Highness, but His Majesty the Emperor is so insistent on holding the
ceremony as early as tomorrow that I hardly know what to do with myself.”
I flashed a shy, almost giddy smile at her, as if embarrassed yet delighted. The only skill I’d honed
while sparring with the Crown Prince was the art of masking my true feelings with a practiced
expression. If I’d learned it, I might as well use it effectively.
For a fleeting moment—so brief it could have gone unnoticed—her lips, still curved in a smile,
stiffened. Anyone with a shred of perception would have caught the subtext of my words. Though
I’d cloaked it in innocence; my meaning was clear: it wasn’t I who was eager for this marriage,
but the Emperor himself. In other words, I had the Emperor’s backing.
A ripple of murmurs spread through the gathered nobles. They might have heard indirectly that the
The Emperor favored my union with the Crown Prince, but hearing it stated so boldly was another
matter entirely. I was making it unmistakably clear to everyone present that I had the Emperor’s
support.
“Even with His Majesty’s fervent wishes, the palace is governed by strict protocol,” the First
Imperial Consort said, her tone indulgent, as if gently chiding a petulant child. “The Crown
Prince’s wedding cannot be arranged so hastily. I trust you have at least that much common sense,
my lady.”
She was trying to paint me as a naive, impulsive girl. I’d anticipated this. Feigning a troubled
expression, I replied, “I told His Majesty the same thing. But as Your Highness surely knows, His
Majesty’s will is unyielding…”
I let my voice trail off, as if embarrassed, while stealing a glance at her. The corner of her mouth
trembled ever so slightly. With a sigh-like tone, I continued, “How could I possibly defy His
Majesty’s wishes? I’m truly sorry, Your Highness.”
With that single sentence, I’d turned her accusation of my supposed lack of sense back on the
The Emperor himself. Her eyes, now sharper than ever, locked onto mine. I held her gaze, my smile
unwavering. As we both fell silent, the room grew so still that only the faintest sound of breathing
could be heard.
“I see,” she said, breaking the silence as she unfurled her fan with a graceful flick. Her lips
curved into a soft, controlled smile, and the tension in the air seemed to dissipate instantly.
A few noblewomen let out audible sighs of relief. The atmosphere of the room shifted entirely
based on her mood. This was her domain, and she held it firmly in her grasp.
“Now that I think of it, you’ve been standing this whole time,” she said, as if the thought had
just occurred to her. “Why don’t you take a seat?”
“Could you kindly show me to my place?” I asked.
With an almost theatrical glance around, her eyes settled on an empty seat at the far end of the tent.
She narrowed her gaze, fanning herself lightly. “Oh, dear. It seems there’s only one seat left.”
She sighed, her tone dripping with feigned regret. “If only you’d arrived a bit earlier. Such a pity,
my lady.”
Her intent was unmistakable. She wanted to make it clear that my relegation to the lowest seat was
my own fault, not hers. Even if someone outside this gathering learned of it later, no one here
could be held accountable.
It was obvious she’d planned this with the Emperor in mind. Though it was a petty power play
among women, too trivial to be formally criticized, it was enough to earn a private reprimand. But
even if I were forced to sit on the floor, I had no intention of running to the Emperor or Crown
Prince to tattle. The me of the past might have, but my pride now wouldn’t allow it.
“I didn’t realize seats were assigned based on order of arrival,” I said lightly. “Your Highness
must have arrived quite early.”
“It’s an imperial event,” she replied, fanning herself again. “Isn’t that only natural?”
A few noblewomen surrounding her tittered, as if her words signaled a return to some prearranged
plan. The lowest seat was reserved for the person of the least status in attendance. For a
high-ranking noble like me to be placed there in such a grand gathering was deeply humiliating.
She clearly wanted to see me squirm in disgrace.
I hadn’t been oblivious to the possibility of such cliquish behavior when I came here. Unlike
before, I had no allies to call my own. No one here would speak up for me or bolster my position.
Even those who might have been my supporters were too wary of the First Imperial Consort to
risk siding with me. The situation was worse than I’d anticipated.
The reason I hadn’t invested in social maneuvering until now was simple: I had no intention of
marrying the Crown Prince. There was no need to exhaust myself building a faction when I did’
I plan to stay. But it seemed I’d miscalculated.
I had expected, at worst, to be treated as if I didn’t exist. But I hadn’t anticipated this kind of
childish, blatant ostracism. Now that it was happening, it felt far more infuriating than I’d
imagined.
If I’d known it would sting this much, I would have carved out a place for myself long ago,
whether I intended to marry the Crown Prince or not.
“My apologies for arriving late to an imperial event,” I said, grasping the sides of my skirt and
dipping into a curtsey. The First Imperial Consort’s lips twitched faintly, as if my reaction caught
her off guard. I flashed her a radiant smile.
Regret was best kept brief. If this setting felt unwelcoming, then it was time to make it my own.
“I’ll be sure to arrive early next time, Your Majesty,” I said to the Empress.
“Yes, it would be wise to come earlier in the future, my lady,” the Empress replied, her smile
stiff and awkward. She, more than anyone, knew that seats weren’t assigned by order of arrival,
yet she avoided meeting my gaze.
I gave her a slight nod before making my way slowly toward the lowest seat. Behind me, the
sound of snickering rang out, sharp and unrestrained. I sat down with my back straight, my
posture unwavering.
“You looked so uncomfortable standing there, Lady Eliont, but now you seem perfectly at ease,”
One of the women remarked, her voice dripping with mockery.
“Indeed,” another chimed in, “that seat seems just right for you, Lady Eliont. Ho ho ho.”
A group of women, led by the First Prince’s concubine, Bin, directed their open hostility toward
me. They were clearly sycophants clinging to her favor. I ignored their barbs as if I hadn’t heard
them and turned to the woman seated beside me.
“Hello,” I said warmly.
“H-hello,” she stammered, her eyes widening in surprise, as if she hadn’t expected me to
address her. I offered her a gentle smile.
“This is my first time at such an event. I hope you’ll look after me.”
“N-no, I mean, I should be the one…” Her face flushed, and she ducked her head, her ears
turning bright red with embarrassment. As I’d suspected, she seemed unaccustomed to gatherings
like this.
To be seated at or near the lowest rank signified not only low status but also a lack of influence in
high society. In other words, she was a novice in these circles.
What surprised me was that this was the Imperial Hunting Tournament, an event reserved for
high-ranking nobles and those personally invited by the imperial family. It was rare to encounter
someone so guileless in such a setting.
“May I ask your name?” I said. “I’m Beonne Rossa Eliont.”
“I-I’m Levina Izle Asteia, my lady,” she murmured, her voice so soft I could barely hear it, even
sitting right beside her. She was either painfully shy or simply overwhelmed.
The moment I heard her name, I understood why she was here. The Asteia viscountcy was the
maternal family of the Second Prince, who was notorious for being an eccentric obsessed with
alchemy. As soon as he’d come of age, he’d bolted from the palace.
Unlike princesses, who could only leave the palace upon marriage, princes were free to choose
their residence after their coming-of-age ceremony. However, it was customary for most princes to
remain in the palace until they married, unless something unusual occurred. While it wasn’t a
formal rule, the majority of princes received a title upon marriage and left the palace. It was
exceedingly rare for a prince to remain in the palace after marrying.
The First Prince was the only one who had stayed in the palace after his marriage, a clear sign he
was openly vying for the throne. The only legal way to force him out, short of him leaving
voluntarily, was for the Crown Prince—or another prince besides the First Prince—to ascend the
throne.
When a new emperor took the throne, all his brothers, married or not, were required to leave the
palace if they had come of age. Even minors who hadn’t yet reached their coming-of-age
ceremony had to leave by the age of sixteen, as mandated by imperial law. For someone like the
Second Prince to leave the palace immediately after his coming-of-age ceremony, without a
change in emperor, was almost unheard of.
Unlike princesses, who were stripped of their imperial status upon marriage, princes remained part
of the imperial family even after marrying. Their consorts were also granted imperial courtesy.
However, their children could not inherit imperial status.
Even though he’d left the palace, the Second Prince was still undeniably a member of the imperial
family. It was only natural that a lady from the Asteia family, his maternal relatives, would be
present at an event like this.
“Lady Asteia, it’s a pleasure to meet you,” I said. “Please, call me Beonne.”
Levina’s eyes widened so much they seemed incapable of growing any larger. She clearly hadn’
t expected me to invite such familiarity. In a first meeting, asking to be called by one’s given
name was tantamount to expressing a desire to grow closer.
The First Imperial Consort had already marked me as an enemy from the start. After two
encounters, her hostility had only solidified. I loathed unnecessary trouble, but I had no intention
of meekly enduring provocations.
An eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth. If she wanted to play childish games, I’d meet her on the
same level.
Carving out my own space in a domain so thoroughly dominated by the First Imperial Consort
was no easy task. The noble faction, along with most of the major players in high society, were
likely already firmly in her camp.
If breaking through from the inside was too difficult, I’d have to chip away from the outside. And
this innocent young lady from the Asteia viscountcy seemed like a promising place to start.
“May I call you by your name as well?” I asked.
“Of course!” Levina replied instantly, her voice almost a shout, as if she feared I’d retract the
offer if she hesitated. Realizing how loudly she’d spoken, she clapped both hands over her mouth
in embarrassment.
I chuckled softly. “You’re adorable, Levina.”
“Are you ignoring me, Lady Eliont?” Bin snapped, her voice sharp with indignation. She was
just beginning to taste the sweetness of power and clearly couldn’t tolerate being overlooked. I’
d been acting as if she weren’t even there, and her patience had finally run out. She glared at me,
her voice shrill with frustration.
I raised my fan to cover my mouth, glancing at her calmly. She was practically fuming, her eyes
boring into me. Tilting my head slightly, I adopted an innocent expression and asked, “Did you
say something to me?”
“It seems Lady Eliont’s ears aren’t working,” she sneered.
“That’s a bit harsh,” I replied, furrowing my brow as if offended. Her face lit up with a
triumphant smirk as she pressed on.
“If your ears aren’t failing you, there’s no way you didn’t hear me.”
“I wasn’t sure if you were addressing me,” I said smoothly. “In a crowded setting like this, it’
s best to make it clear who you’re speaking to. It’s basic courtesy, after all.”