Chapter 4
Move? What move? Volterr met Grandfather’s wide, rabbit-like eyes and answered as if it were obvious.
“Don’t the crown prince’s palace need a lot of preparation to welcome its new occupant?”
He laid his intentions bare without hesitation, seemingly unaware he was doing so. His attitude was so natural it almost felt reasonable.
Grandfather asked him bluntly, “Why are you concerned about that?”
“What? Of course I’m concerned!”
“Why is that your concern?”
You’d think he’d catch on by now.
Volterr is eighteen now. When I died from poison in my past life, I was eighteen—meaning my mental age is the same as his. I can at least vaguely understand what Grandfather’s saying! I’m so ashamed of the past me who fell for this idiot’s schemes.
Die, past me! Sob, sob. Oh, wait, past me is already dead.
Still, seeing Volterr get put in his place like this eased my anger a bit.
Grandfather barked again, “Who told you? That the crown prince’s investiture would happen before summer?”
Volterr visibly faltered, stammering, “W-Well, Mother… I know it’s a secret. I haven’t told anyone. Really.”
Grandfather pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed.
“Why do you assume Count Maron, standing right here, isn’t ‘anyone’?”
As Grandfather said, Count Maron, the chief attendant, was likely hearing about the crown prince’s investiture for the first time today. That made sense, since Grandfather had sent him out during his conversation with Aunt Eonel.
Still, Count Maron probably had a vague sense of Grandfather’s intentions, watching me come here daily to play that card game. He likely guessed the time was near.
The significance wasn’t in Grandfather “playing” with me through the card game. It was that the emperor was playing a strategic game—designed for training noble heirs—with the imperial granddaughter, the child of the crown prince, the legitimate heir.
What mattered was that people saw it, that rumors spread. Thus, the child Grandfather had chosen to inherit the throne was…
the imperial granddaughter, not a prince or princess, Amelia Platina Chermunt.
But for an eighteen-year-old royal who’s been steeped in the ways of the imperial court for years to fail to grasp the significance of me and this pile of cards in front of him—that was a serious problem.
If you’ve been drinking imperial water for eighteen years, you should understand the meaning behind the emperor’s actions without being told outright!
At Grandfather’s bellowing, Uncle Volterr clamped his mouth shut and stole a glance at Count Maron’s face.
Count Maron, despite learning this news only today, acted as if he’d known all along, his expression unreadable.
Volterr’s face crumpled like a piece of paper at the sight of that inscrutable composure.
“What does it matter? Who cares if anyone knows? What’s going to change?”
Oh, dear…!
This was getting worse by the second! If the nobles found out, of course things would change! The court, the entire imperial system, would descend into utter chaos!
Grandfather clutched the back of his neck and staggered as if he might collapse.
“Your Majesty!”
“Grandpapa!”
“Father!”
Even Volterr rushed forward in alarm, his arms bracing the desk right in front of my face.
Should I just bite him?
I’m three years old, after all. Wouldn’t that be fine? The fleeting impulse didn’t take long to act on.
I opened my mouth wide and chomped down on Volterr’s forearm with all my might.
Crunch!
What a satisfying sound.
“Aaagh!”
Volterr shrieked, flailing his arm. In the process, my body, still biting down, went tumbling backward.
Oh no! I didn’t think this through.
Luckily, I landed on a soft cushion behind me, but pain was still pain.
Getting flung back by the vigorous swing of an eighteen-year-old’s arm wasn’t exactly pleasant.
So I just cried.
“Waaahhh!”
Isn’t that the privilege of being a toddler? When things go wrong, you cry.
“Your Majesty! The physician! I’ll summon the physician!”
As Count Maron rushed toward the door, Grandfather called out to him.
“No need. Don’t make a fuss. Oh, dear.”
Grandfather waved his hand dismissively, shaking his head, a hint of irritation in his voice.
He sat me on his thigh, bouncing his leg gently while I cried silently, my mouth still shaped in a wail.
Bouncy-bouncy.
Alright, now go on and finish the important conversation.
As I settled quietly, Grandfather turned his gaze to Uncle Volterr.
Volterr stood awkwardly, clearly clueless about what he’d done wrong. The only silver lining was that he seemed to realize, vaguely, that he’d messed up big time.
“Is there… a reason I shouldn’t have said that?”
“Ask the empress.”
“Mother?”
“Yes, the empress. I have nothing more to say to you. I told you not to reveal your ambitions so openly.”
“I’m sorry.”
“What’s there to be sorry for? You’ve dug your own grave. Many palace attendants saw what happened today. They’ll talk. They’ll say you incurred the emperor’s wrath, that you were reckless, unfit for the crown prince’s seat.”
Grandfather didn’t say outright that this was his opinion, but the thought he’d just voiced—that Volterr was unfit to be crown prince—was undoubtedly his true belief.
From the beginning, the throne was meant to be mine. Even when Grandfather was emperor.
In my past life, I thought it was Aunt Eonel’s will. And even then, I only realized it at the moment of my death.
“Leave.”
Grandfather issued a dismissal to Uncle Volterr. Count Maron escorted the prince to the door.
“I’ll see you out, Your Highness.”
As Volterr raised his head, our eyes met. I flashed him an innocent grin, as if I knew nothing.
His fists clenched tightly.
He gritted his teeth and stormed out while I sat on Grandfather’s lap, bouncing gently.
“My Melly, listen and learn well. What that fool said—that nothing will change no matter who knows about the crown prince’s investiture before summer—is not true.”
I nodded quietly, listening intently. Without realizing it, I was hanging on his every word.
“Wha?”
My attempt to ask “why” came out garbled, reminding me I was three. Oops, my mistake.
No, wait—more importantly, is this really the kind of conversation you have with a three-year-old on your lap?
“When the nobles learn the investiture is happening before summer, they’ll divide into factions. They’ll vie over who should be named the next crown prince.”
It hasn’t happened yet. I’d lived through it in my future, but for Grandfather, it was still to come. I sifted through old memories, listening to his voice.
“And they’ll probe to see who I’ve chosen as the next emperor. They’ll weigh which side to take, or scheme to undermine the royals they don’t support while backing their own, weaving all sorts of plots and intrigues. The fight won’t end until one of you three—you, Eonel, or Volterr—is eliminated, politically or physically.”
Though he spoke of a future he hadn’t seen, his vivid murmurs painted it as if he had. My vision flashed red.
So many people had died. The palace walls were always stained crimson with blood, the sky filled with endless black screams.
From high-ranking nobles to laundry maids, more than half of those caught up in this power struggle, willingly or not, had their necks severed. I’d seen tongues cut out, wrists slashed, and flesh branded with hot irons countless times. It was common to find drowned bodies in the empty pavilion by the palace’s largest lake garden.
Some were beheaded together on the guillotine in a single day; others vanished without a trace when you turned your back.
Drinking poison quietly in a room, as I had, was among the gentlest deaths.
A shiver ran through my body.
“Before you grow up, your grandpapa will take care of everything. So don’t worry.”
I paused, wondering how to respond. Should I act like an ignorant child? But as I looked up at Grandfather’s resolute face and gleaming eyes, I couldn’t pretend to be clueless. The emperor’s throne felt impossibly lofty.
The vague desire for revenge against Uncle Volterr began to sharpen into clarity.
I’ll become empress. A dignified, wise empress with foresight.
Wouldn’t that be a splendid form of revenge? Poisoning or beheading them isn’t necessarily true vengeance.
I won’t take their mere lives—I’ll take their pride. I won’t let them die easily. I’ll make them live in misery until the end.
I’ll reclaim what Uncle stole from me and look down on him from that high place, as if to say his obsession with honor and power, his greed for what wasn’t his, made him the vulgar one.
Grandfather met my eyes.
“Melly, become a great ruler.”
I nodded.
The empress returned to her chambers and slammed the door shut with enough force to break it.
Just moments ago, she’d been in high spirits, browsing catalogs in the greenhouse with dressmakers and accessory shop madames, indulging in luxury.
But then, mid-spree, a maid she’d planted in the emperor’s palace whispered something to her. Before the maid could even finish, her son barged into the greenhouse, spilling every detail of what happened in the emperor’s study from A to Z, whining like a child. Her blood boiled.
With no other princes left in the empire, she was certain her son, Volterr, would be named crown prince. Even if the emperor didn’t choose him, the nobles would push for it. There was no precedent for a princess becoming emperor. So she’d been confident.
But the emperor’s suspicious behavior at the hot spring palace, his agreement to hold the crown prince’s investiture this year as she’d urged, was a lie—
trap to deceive her.
That old man tricked me!
Kiyen’s rage boiled over as she stormed into her chambers, barely aware of how she’d gotten there.
As soon as she arrived, she dismissed the maids. Only an old attendant from her family’s estate and an elderly nurse remained. Then, Kiyen swept her arms across the vanity, letting out a piercing scream.
“Aaagh!”
The attendant, accustomed to such outbursts, stayed motionless in the corner. The nurse silently turned her head away.
This was the true face of Kiyen, the one she’d shown since her days as the young lady of the Cherie Marquisate.
Outside, Kiyen guarded her image with obsessive care. But all the temper she’d suppressed came erupting out once she was in her chambers. Only these two, who’d known her true self since her family days, could handle it.
“How dare she! An orphan with no parents—what backing does she have to covet the throne?”
Still unsatisfied after wrecking the vanity, Kiyen grabbed a vase and hurled it against the wall.
Crash!
Porcelain shards scattered everywhere, and water soaked the carpet.
“Why have I been groveling to that old man all this time? How could the emperor do this to me!”
She flung a jewelry box at the vanity, shattering the mirror.
Smash!
The broken glass fell to the floor, glinting sharply. Precious gems from the box spilled out in a cascade.
In the fractured mirror, her face reflected back at her. She could almost see her son, Volterr, who looked so much like her, in those shards. His earlier words echoed in her ears.
“Father humiliated me in front of Count Maron and that little brat. How could he be so harsh to his youngest son?”
She’d told him the crown prince’s investiture was a secret, yet he couldn’t hold his tongue and went to the emperor, earning his scorn!
He was her son, but how could he be so frustratingly foolish? So utterly dim-witted. And he didn’t even think before speaking.
Worse still, he was oblivious to the fact that he’d declared, in front of palace attendants, that he’d incurred the emperor’s disfavor.
She’d spent the entire winter at the hot spring palace tending to that old man, buttering him up to make Volterr crown prince!
Back when her family had power, when she had power, she should’ve pushed harder to secure Volterr’s investiture. That’s why she’d had the crown prince and his wife killed, wasn’t it?
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