Chapter 117

The news that Freyer Lundberg, the Second Prince of the Empire, had passed away spread among the nobles, throwing the world into an uproar. Finally, the news reached Nazlee while she was having tea with other young ladies.

 

Clatter!

 

The teacup in Nazlee’s hand slipped and shattered on the floor with a sharp sound.

 

“Na—Nazlee!”

 

“My Lady!”

 

The hot tea soaked Nazlee’s white lace gloves and ivory skirt, sending up steam. Her hand remained in the shape of holding the cup, trembling like an aspen leaf.

 

“You’re being cruel…”

 

“Bring cold water and towels immediately!”

 

The maids began to move frantically. Her hands shaking, Nazlee struggled to focus her gaze as a middle-aged woman checked her.

 

“My Lady. It would be best to see a healer.”

 

“Lady Nazlee. You should get treated first!”

 

“My apologies to the ladies, but we must end the tea party…”

 

Since the party could no longer continue, the young ladies were carefully standing up to leave. Just then, Nazlee, her hands and eyelids twitching, began to mutter softly.

 

“…Do I… look like a joke to you?”

 

“My Lady?”

 

“Lady Nazlee…?”

 

“Just how… how can you tell such a vile joke to me!”

 

With eyes wide and bloodshot, Nazlee glared at the young ladies and jumped to her feet.

 

“A—Apologize to me right now! I said apologize! For making such a joke, for seeing me as a joke—apologize!”

 

Seemingly oblivious to the pain of the burn, Nazlee marched toward the ladies.

 

“…Lady Nazlee. You must be shocked, but the news of Prince Freyer’s passing is true—”

 

Before anyone could stop her, Nazlee’s palm cut through the air and struck Lady Claire’s cheek. The violent sound of the slap echoed as Claire’s head snapped to the side. Everyone gasped, frozen by Nazlee’s actions. Claire clutched her red-marked cheek, her eyes wide with a total loss of reality, looking confused about what had just happened.

 

“Lady Claire!”

 

The surrounding ladies rushed to Claire’s side and shouted at Nazlee.

 

“What do you think you’re doing!”

 

“I merely punished her for mocking me! The news of Prince Freyer’s death is not something that can be said even as a joke!”

 

“…Lady Nazlee. Prince Freyer really has passed away!”

 

“Do you want to suffer the same fate!?”

 

Nazlee raised her trembling hand again, and just as she was about to swing, a wrinkled hand caught her forearm.

 

“Stop.”

 

The hand belonged to Duke Idarand. With a heavy expression, he slowly lowered Nazlee’s arm.

 

“I am sorry.”

 

“Why are you apologizing, Father! I’m the one who should receive—!”

 

“It is true.”

 

“…What?”

 

“It is true that the Second Prince, Freyer Lundberg, has passed away.”

 

“…Your jokes are cruel…”

 

“The funeral will be held at the palace tomorrow, so see it with your own eyes.”

 

Nazlee stumbled and collapsed hollowly into her seat.

 

Since the opera house, Nazlee’s attitude had been quite different. She had been busy trying to confirm if Lady Lilithia and the Second Prince were truly seeing each other. Upon hearing that Lady Lilithia had arrived in the Kingdom of Pearching and the Second Prince in the Kingdom of Oneren, she had sighed and comforted herself, eventually returning to her usual bright self.

 

The Duke had not been able to bring himself to tell such a daughter the news of the Prince’s death.

 

“Because I failed to tell my daughter the truth, I have caused you trouble. It would be best to end today’s tea.”

 

Duke Idarand looked at Nazlee with pitying eyes.

 

“And see Nazlee to her bedchamber. The shock seems to be great.”

 

 

***

 

 

Nazlee’s head, devoid of spirit, jolted along with the movement of the carriage. Duke Idarand’s face was clouded with worry.

 

“Father! To think Prince Freyer is dead! This is a conspiracy! There’s no way the Prince could be dead!”

 

The sight of Nazlee last night, visiting him and venting her grief, unable to contain her shock and rage, had broken the Duke’s heart.

 

‘If I had told her sooner, would she have avoided this world-shattering shock?’

 

A wave of useless guilt washed over him, and he hurriedly turned his head to look out the window.

 

With a neigh, the carriage came to a halt. The Duke helped the dazed Nazlee to her feet.

 

“Nazlee. Pull yourself together.”

 

The Duke and Nazlee headed into the hall where the funeral was being held. Soon, eight people in mourning clothes entered the building, solemnly carrying the casket. The Duke held Nazlee’s arm, trying to keep her alert.

 

“My son, Freyer Lundberg. You truly have closed your eyes…”

 

The Empress, dressed in ornate black mourning attire, dabbed at her eyes with a handkerchief as she approached the coffin.

 

“It is said our Freyer collapsed from overwork while working for the empire… I ask everyone to observe a moment of silence for him.”

 

With a loud thud, Nazlee collapsed to the floor, drawing everyone’s attention.

 

“Lady Nazlee must have been deeply shocked as well. To collapse like this. She looks even more sorrowful than I, his mother.”

 

Consumed by despair, Nazlee burst into tears and hurried out of the funeral hall. The Empress stopped the Duke as he tried to follow.

 

“Is your daughter’s grief more important than the death of the Empire’s Second Prince? Duke Idarand, show respect at a royal funeral.”

 

“…”

 

The Duke’s lips thinned into a line, and his eyes flashed sharply. He was already suffering from guilt for not being able to comfort the grief-stricken Nazlee. Once the funeral proceedings ended, the Duke, unable to contain his anger, went to find the Empress.

 

“You seem to have something to say to me, but we cannot raise our voices at Freyer’s funeral, so let us go somewhere private.”

 

The Duke followed the Empress. Upon arriving at the drawing room, he gulped down the water in front of him to quench his rage. Seeing this, the Empress’s eyes shone intensely. The Duke slammed the glass down on the table and raised his voice.

 

“Did you say ‘respect,’ Your Majesty?”

 

“It surely cannot be greater than my grief at losing a son. Lady Nazlee merely harbored a crush on Freyer.”

 

“Don’t act hypocritically when he wasn’t even your biological son.”

 

“My, Duke Idarand, do you realize you are crossing a line?”

 

The Empress smiled with narrowed eyes and continued.

 

“We cannot hold onto pain forever… I believe that when sad things happen, we must create good things. So I ask, Duke Idarand, do you not want to have the Imperial Family as in-laws?”

 

“For someone who claims to care for her son…”

 

“That’s because I have two sons.”

 

The Empress tilted her head slightly, gave a bright smile, and spoke again.

 

“I’ll ask again. Let us marry Ivailo and Nazlee. And how about we put Ivailo on the throne?”

 

“I did not come here to tell such things to Your Majesty. I came to hold you accountable for the humiliation you caused my daughter, who is already suffering.”

 

The Duke raised his voice as he spoke.

 

“And I believe I told you before. I have no interest in the Imperial Family enough to commit treason…”

 

The Duke’s body gave a sudden jolt.

 

“Treason? I am suggesting we have the current Emperor step down.”

 

The Empress stood up and stroked the Duke’s shoulder, drawing his gaze.

 

“I need the power of the Idarand Ducal House to make Ivailo Emperor. Lend me your strength. Nazlee must want to become the next Empress as well.”

 

“Nazlee… will become… E—Empress…”

 

“Think of Nazlee. Imagine her happy, ruling the country as Empress.”

 

He tried to shake his head to clear his mind, but the Duke’s eyes began to grow empty.

 

“Even the late Duchess would want Nazlee to be happy. The path to Nazlee’s happiness is marriage to the Crown Prince and then putting him on the throne with the power of the Idarand House.”

 

“Ah… My daughter. Nazlee.”

 

“What will you do?”

 

Finally, the Duke, his eyes devoid of life, replied.

 

“……Ah. If it is what Nazlee wants… I would even seize the throne. The position of Empress would be even easier…”

 

“I take it you will cooperate with me.”

 

“……Of course.”

 

 

***

 

 

The image of the Second Prince lying there kept surfacing in her mind, and tears rolled down Nazlee’s dazed eyes.

 

“I must find the reason why the Prince died…”

 

Perhaps he was assassinated. If so, if he was killed by someone, she had to resolve his grievances. The guilt of not being by his side forced Nazlee to snap out of it.

 

‘I’ll ask Father.’

 

Nazlee waited for her father in the carriage. When the Duke arrived, she felt something strange about his expression, but she didn’t show it and spoke.

 

“Father! I have a favor to ask!”

 

“I will speak first.”

 

“Pardon?”

 

“I will make you the Empress.”

 

“Surely, are you trying to force me into an arranged marriage with the Crown Prince right now…?”

 

“As expected of my daughter.”

 

In an instant, the Duke’s stern face was replaced by a bright, sunny smile. The eerie change in emotion made Nazlee shrink back.

 

“Forget Freyer Lundberg. A scoundrel like that was never a match for you. He belongs in a coffin.”

 

“What are you saying!”

 

Nazlee protested, but a silence fell as the Duke told her to be quiet.

 

“Do not mention the Second Prince’s name ever again. It will only be a label that follows you as the future Empress.”

 

Nazlee could say nothing against the Duke’s powerful aura.

 

“Nazlee. You becoming Empress is the path your mother wanted.”

 

“…”

 

“The wedding will be in about a month.”

 

Upon arriving at the Duchy, Nazlee went straight to her room and hid under the covers.

 

‘Is he shackling my life, taking away the person I love and my happiness, because I am a sinner who took my mother’s life?’

 

It felt as if her mother were punishing her.