PPCTD 5

chapter 5

Lady Mare entered, followed by Leto.

Dressed in a blue uniform adorned with silver epaulettes, he looked especially cold, strong, and honorable.

“Her Majesty the Empress looks even more beautiful today, doesn’t she?”

Lady Mare asked warmly, like a mother proudly showing off her daughter.

But I’m sorry, Lady Mare.

That man probably has no interest in my appearance.

‘See? He’s just staring at me without even a single compliment.’

Smiling, I approached Leto.

“Did you come to escort me?”

I knew. He wasn’t here to escort me, but to watch me. Still, I decided to act kindly. If I were the real Empress, this is how I would behave. I wanted to do better than he expected—if only out of stubbornness.

He didn’t answer. He simply stared at me with wide blue eyes. After a moment, he spoke.

“That outfit—”

Ah. He must be reacting because it’s something unfamiliar and extravagant. Maybe he thinks I spent imperial funds freely?

“My brothers gave them to me as gifts. Every single one.”

He hesitated. It seemed like he wanted to say more, but instead swallowed his words and muttered,

“…I see.”

“It looks like everything is ready. Shall we go?”

“Let’s.”

Leto extended his arm. Following etiquette, I lightly took it, and we headed to the banquet hall together.

Walking by the rules.

Holding my posture by the rules.

Lifting my skirt by the rules.

Greeting nobles with my eyes by the rules.

This was the moment my week of effort paid off. Leto leaned slightly and whispered,

“Lady Mare, the viscount’s wife, must have worked hard.”

So he wouldn’t acknowledge my efforts. But I wasn’t hurt. I’d received this kind of treatment plenty of times before.

Why would I expect recognition from anyone? It would be enough if I didn’t lose what was mine.

“Yes. I received a great deal of help.”

My voice was perfectly aligned with imperial etiquette. Surprisingly, he smirked.

“You handle yourself better than Livia.”

“Thank you for your praise.”

“We’ll reach the banquet hall soon. You haven’t forgotten what I said, have you?”

“To stay quiet and still, correct?”

“That’s right. You understand the key point well.”

Of course I do. I’m the desperate one here—not you. I’m the one whose life is on the line.

“His Majesty the Emperor and Her Majesty the Empress are entering!”

The gatekeeper’s loud voice rang out. The music, fragrance, and splendor of the banquet hall overwhelmed the senses. The chandelier lights were dazzling.

It was an indescribably grand banquet—befitting the Empire’s greatest celebration, the Founding Festival.

We walked across the hall as nobles respectfully parted to make way. Though their glances toward me weren’t exactly respectful.

We sat side by side at the high table. The nobles whispered while stealing glances at me.

“The resurrected Empress.”
“The Empress who came back and dressed so extravagantly.”

Perfect gossip material.

Even being in a high position isn’t easy. It requires courage—and shamelessness.

The festival began with the Emperor’s speech. Leto raised his wine glass.

“Today, we welcome the imperial family, the nobles, and even the clergy gathered here to celebrate the 154th founding anniversary of the great Set Empire. May you continue to devote yourselves to the glory of the Empire and the well-being of its people.”

It was a speech that demanded sacrifice and pride rather than sharing rights and privileges. Tension spread across the faces of those who had seemed comfortable moments before.

Everyone raised their glasses with Leto.

But on my table, there were only teacups.

Yuton, standing beside me, whispered,

“My apologies. His Majesty has forbidden alcohol for Her Majesty the Empress. Instead, I’ve prepared a variety of palace teas—bergamot, Ceylon, Nilgiri, Assam, milk tea, and tea tree, both iced and hot. Please choose whichever suits your taste.”

His apology for not offering wine.

His thoroughness in preparing alternatives.

And his humility in not making a show of it.

‘Yuton… is truly an excellent secretary.’

I smiled at him once. I couldn’t say thank you aloud because of the order to remain silent.

Since the hall was warm, I chose iced tea tree tea. Yuton poured it into a glass pot filled with ice.

After confirming my cup was full, Leto called out,

“To the Empire.”

As he emptied his glass, the crowd followed.

“To the Empire!”
“To the Empire!”

The tea tree tea was very strong—bitter even in the aftertaste.

The banquet began in earnest.

A ball of nobles.
Hymns of the clergy.
Performances by knights.
Dances by entertainers.

A great deal of effort had gone into the Founding Festival.

Leto remained at his seat with a businesslike expression. Even when the ball began, nothing changed. The Emperor and Empress’s dance was officially omitted. Soon, young ladies lined up to greet us—more precisely, to greet Leto.

“Your Majesty, it is an honor to see you like this.”

“The honor is mine. That’s enough greetings—return to your seat.”

“Your Majesty, I was so happy when you danced with me at the last ball. Perhaps today—”

“I’m sorry. I have no plans to dance today.”

Leto cut off every greeting cleanly. From what I heard, he occasionally danced with young ladies—likely to maintain relations between the imperial family and the nobility.

He could have danced today too. If he left his seat, I might be able to breathe a little.

I turned to look at him. He had been gazing down at the hall in boredom, but then he looked back at me.

I gestured slightly toward the young ladies and tilted my head, asking why he wasn’t dancing.

He stared at me quietly, then suddenly said something unrelated.

“The Matrion brothers will be a bit late today.”

I nodded. That morning, I’d received a message from them—they would be late due to matters in their territory.

If anything, that was a relief. Since I couldn’t speak, even greeting them would be difficult.

But why was he bringing this up?

He said calmly,

“I don’t have the bad habit of leaving someone standing around alone.”

Ah. So it was because of me. Of course—it wouldn’t look good for the Empress to sit alone. Not for the imperial reputation.

The Founding Festival continued until sunset. Leto truly stayed until the end.

Of course, unpleasant whispers occasionally reached my ears. Young ladies murmured nearby—just loud enough for me to hear.

“The Empress is still the same, it seems. So quiet.”
“Right? I thought she’d changed since she dressed up today. She hasn’t said a single word yet.”
“She hasn’t even touched wine.”
“If she’s going to be like that, why even come back to life…?”

So Livia’s dignity had truly hit rock bottom—reduced to being mocked by mere young ladies.

I turned my head and stared directly at them. At first, they glanced back. I kept staring. Soon enough, they dispersed. By etiquette, they couldn’t meet the Empress’s gaze.

Too bad. If not for the silence order, I would’ve said something.

“Your Majesty.”

A young man approached Leto cautiously. The nobles retreated like a receding tide.

As if looking at something repulsive—with contempt.

The moment I saw him, I was startled too. His face and hands were covered in scales and spots.

‘A skin disease? That’s severe…’

Whispers began.

“How disgusting…”
“…That’s because of the Goddess’s curse…”
“What kind of sin did he commit, tsk tsk…”

Under the scornful gazes, his face reddened. He clenched his fists, enduring the itch.

I signaled to Yuton, who quickly whispered,

“That is Baron Parham Sannuel. He developed an unknown skin condition recently and has been in seclusion. The High Priest declared it a curse of the Goddess… I’ve heard he’s being relocated to a remote island tonight.”

Baron Parham. I had heard of him in Lady Mare’s lessons.

Back when Leto was Crown Prince, he went north to subdue monsters—a life-threatening mission. Parham accompanied him as a strategist and earned great merit. He inherited his title despite being the second son because of that.

And now such a decorated man was treated like this because of one word from the High Priest.

The High Priest stood far away, leisurely drinking, as if Parham’s misfortune had nothing to do with him.

Leto spoke loudly to Parham,

“Parham, come closer.”

A noble hurriedly cried out,

“Your Majesty! You must be careful. That man is cursed—”

“Who just called it a curse?”

Leto glared at the nobles. They fell silent under his piercing gaze.

“I invited Parham. Is it not proper to invite a meritorious subject to an important imperial event?”

No one could respond. Parham knelt on one knee before him.

“Parham Sannuel greets Your Majesty. Thank you sincerely for the invitation.”

His voice was calm. Even at a glance, he seemed strong-willed.

“Well done for coming. Enjoy the banquet with Yuton.”

“No, Your Majesty. Now that I’ve seen you, I will take my leave.”

“What are you saying? You just arrived.”

“I am grateful, but I have much to prepare for my relocation. Please grant me permission.”

He spoke earnestly.

Not because of the relocation—but because of Leto. The more Leto supported him, the worse the rumors would grow.

Leto looked at him, frustrated. Was it my imagination? There seemed to be regret in his eyes.

“…Permission granted. But if anything happens after your relocation, send word immediately.”

“It would be my honor.”

Parham approached me.

“Baron Parham Sannuel greets Her Majesty the Empress.”

He knelt respectfully. I examined the hand he placed on the ground.

As expected—the “scales” were actually dry skin.

Flakes, spots, itching.

‘This looks like… psoriasis.’

Psoriasis is of unknown cause but common. It can even improve with ointment. And yet they were calling this a “curse of the Goddess.”

Perhaps embarrassed by my gaze, Parham hid his hand in his sleeve.

Sensing something off, Leto said,

“Parham, withdraw. Her Majesty doesn’t seem to be in good condition today.”

No.

‘I have to tell them this isn’t a curse. Otherwise, he’ll live his whole life as a sinner.’

This is my only chance.

In urgency, I grabbed Parham’s wrist. His eyes widened.

“Oh my! The Empress touched him!”
“This is bad—the curse will spread!”

Gasps erupted. Parham tried to pull away, but I tightened my grip.

“Empress. Let go of his hand.”

Leto’s voice was low—a warning, perhaps his first and last.

At that moment, I saw the teacups on the table.

More precisely, the pot of iced tea tree tea.

‘That’s it.’

Splash.

I poured the tea and ice over his hand.

Silence fell over the hall. Even the orchestra stopped playing.

Leto grabbed my wrist.

“Empress.”

With an expressionless face, he said,

“Come with me for a moment.”