Episode 51
The soft, rustling sensation of the brush sweeping across her eyelids was more ticklish than gentle. Wasn’t it made from sable tail hair?
“Now, open your eyes.”
At those words, Ephelia opened her eyes. The most renowned makeup artist in the capital smiled kindly and handed her a hand mirror. Though there was a large full-length mirror, makeup needed to be examined up close.
“I chose a dried rose color for your lips. If you lightly add some shimmer, it will make your face look much livelier.”
Ephelia looked at her reflection as if she were observing someone else, completely impassive.
“Is it over now?”
“Are you not satisfied? Should we redo it?”
It would have been preferable if she were the kind of highborn lady who fussed over small details or demanded a redo. Her lack of reaction made her all the more intimidating.
Ephelia’s first impression was that she seemed extremely delicate. Her pale skin, hair, and frail body made her appear almost sickly. But now, that perception needed to change.
When Ephelia looked away from the mirror, she somehow felt oppressed.
Her eyes, defined perfectly with eyeliner, looked even sharper. The cheeks that had been pale to the point of whiteness now bore a subtle blush.
Although she had long lived away from luxury, Ephelia had once been the most noble young lady in the empire. Her taste was unmatched. Even by Ephelia’s discerning eye, the makeup suited her perfectly.
There was no question of liking it or not; none of it held any real meaning for Ephelia. The only thing that mattered was that all the preparations for the evening banquet were complete.
“No, it’s fine. I like it.”
Ephelia returned the mirror, speaking words she didn’t mean.
“You truly are beautiful.”
“You’ve all worked hard.”
“Worked hard? No, I am deeply grateful for such an honor. I would wish for no greater opportunity than this to come again.”
Even when she subtly revealed her own desires, Ephelia showed no reaction. Was it displeasure? Yet every effort had been made to ensure the look suited her.
Knock, knock.
“It’s Gina, Your Highness.”
“Come in.”
Ephelia turned her gaze to Gina. Her mistress had become stunningly beautiful. The dress she wore had a soft pink hue.
Although Ephelia had said she would attend in a dress she already owned, the Crown Prince had sent dozens of gowns that very evening. Despite being hastily arranged, the gowns complemented Ephelia remarkably well.
The pale pink dress brought a lively touch to her otherwise starkly white skin, making her appear more radiant than ever in the mirror.
Though she was incredibly beautiful, Gina felt as if Ephelia might melt away into the light.
“Is anything uncomfortable?”
She should have begun with a compliment, but the words slipped out without thought. Ephelia widened her eyes at Gina’s question, then gave a faint smile.
How had she noticed what even the expert, standing beside her to apply makeup, had missed?
In truth, she had felt unwell since the morning. But today was the banquet, and she could not lie down in illness.
“I’m fine. But what’s the matter?”
“The Crown Prince has arrived.”
Gina’s worried face reflected her concern. Ephelia had deteriorated after Regios had visited, and the same cause had reappeared. Though she knew, there was nothing she could do. Or rather, she had no motivation to act.
Regios had not visited until now. While she felt relief, she also did not know what expression to wear if he appeared. Even then, she had not been able to sleep properly, fearing he might come while she rested.
Thinking of his arrival made her heart uneasy, recalling what had happened just before.
“Shall I tell him you’re not ready yet?”
Gina was perceptive. Preparations had long been complete.
“Yes. Please do.”
“Is there anywhere you’d like touched up, Your Highness?”
Perhaps she hadn’t liked it, for those around her asked cautiously.
“No, rest.”
“Then we’ll withdraw for now.”
With her fiancé, the Crown Prince, having arrived and her preparations complete, it was protocol for them to leave.
“You’ve worked hard, so have some tea and snacks and take a short rest.”
Though politely phrased, it implied the Crown Prince would be kept waiting under the pretext that she was not yet ready.
Once the attendants left, it signaled that preparations were indeed complete, and those around her realized her intent, anxiously watching.
Ephelia exhaled and vacated the room. Sitting on the sofa, she felt increasingly unwell, a headache beginning to form. She longed to recline, but with her hair, makeup, and dress, she had to remain upright. Ephelia closed her eyes and simply breathed quietly.
Knock, knock. She glanced at the clock—it had been almost an hour. She sighed and answered,
“I’ll come out.”
She could not avoid it forever; confrontation was inevitable. Bracing herself, Ephelia left the room, only to find Regios waiting at the door instead of the maids.
Despite her mental preparation, Ephelia flinched and tried to step back, but Regios extended an arm and blocked her retreat. His gesture was gentle yet assertive.
“This should suffice as punishment.”
Even though she was fully prepared, he implied he knew she had deliberately kept herself waiting. How infuriating.
“Isn’t it the receiver who decides the end of punishment, not the giver?”
“Humor me. The banquet is about to begin.”
Regios, who had come for Ephelia, appeared unfazed. His calm, almost playful demeanor was maddening.
“Are you unwell?”
How could he know she was feeling ill? Startled by the sudden question, Ephelia replied,
“I was fine until just now.”
“I’m sorry I couldn’t remove the cause.”
Regios skillfully deflected her complaints, understanding them without judgment.
“So, do you like the dress?”
The dress covered her neck and upper body, far removed from current fashions—more suited for an older noblewoman or someone whose hair had turned white. Ephelia frowned slightly but said nothing. Thanks to the high neckline, she wore no necklace; small diamond-studded buttons twinkled instead.
“It’s so modest, you look more like a nun than the Crown Princess.”
Regios teased lightly, then turned his gaze to her hair.
“The top looks empty.”
Even with the careful work of the stylist, he remarked that her hair looked incomplete. Half of her abundant curls were left loose, while the other half was braided into a crown-like shape, adorned with platinum leaves and two tiny ruby flower pins, forming a regal diadem.
“Bring the Queen’s little star.”
Ephelia’s eyes widened. She knew immediately what he meant—a crown featuring a 200-carat pink diamond, a treasure held by the royal family for generations, worn exclusively by the Crown Princess. The previous owner was the current Empress.
“I am not yet worthy to wear it…”
“You are. Permission to use any item from the royal treasury has already been granted.”
Ephelia’s delicate refusal was instantly dismissed. Declining the crown would be tantamount to refusing both the Empress’s favor and the position of Crown Princess. He always blocked any escape.
Soon, a stylist placed the 200-carat pink diamond crown, surrounded by hundreds of one-carat diamonds set in platinum, atop her white braided hair. The weight of the crown was less burdensome than the weight of its meaning.
“Go.”
“Relax your expression. Someone might think you’re being dragged to the slaughterhouse.”
To Ephelia, the place felt no different. He was a cruel man, holding her leash and pulling her along.
“Does it feel different?”
“Not really.”
Despite her sharp words, he simply smiled leisurely. Her words and actions seemed incapable of hurting him, which only angered her more.
He had crushed her resistance. He knew her weaknesses better than anyone and exploited them. She neither denied nor regretted it; there was no other way to keep her in the palace.
“…How are Mom and Dad?”
“They’re well in the place they originally lived.”
“Really?”
“For now, nothing has happened.”
His words implied that, depending on Ephelia’s behavior, he could easily cause harm. Ephelia bit her lip.
