#003. Interesting, That One
“The Second Princess of the Kingdom of Lamore is now entering.”
The answer is simple. All you need is to be noticed by the most powerful person—in this case, the Emperor. You don’t even need to be favored. Just catching the Emperor’s eye, enough to spark some curiosity, is sufficient.
That alone is enough to make the other hostages here—those in the same position as me—fear me.
And catching the attention of a ruler? That’s something I can do with ease.
As the chamberlain introduced me, I slowly bowed my head. A child’s body has different proportions from an adult’s, so even something as basic as a bow has to be done carefully, or I might topple over.
It seemed that my unusually polite behavior for such a small child piqued interest, as I felt the Emperor’s gaze land on me—just as I had predicted.
“What is this? It’s just a little blob of flesh.”
…But that comment, I hadn’t expected. I almost looked up in surprise at the crude words I never thought I’d hear in the throne room.
“Your Majesty, this is the throne hall.”
I was able to hold myself back only because someone else voiced what I was thinking first.
Judging by the direction the voice came from—straight ahead—it was probably the Empress. Well, as long as at least one of them is sane, it’ll be fine. I stayed bowed, thinking that to myself.
If this were my own country, I’d already have submitted five petitions titled, “Your words reflect your heart, please maintain dignity in your speech,” and so on. But this isn’t my country. So long as diplomacy stays intact, it doesn’t matter whether they’re sane or not.
“Ah, yes, Empress. I’ll be more careful.”
Since the Emperor at least seems willing to listen to the Empress, there’s no need to worry too much. Just as I was thinking that, I was dismissed.
“Princess Blanche. We’ve prepared the Emerald Palace for your stay. You may now take your leave.”
This was the moment to speak. I opened my mouth and, carefully enunciating each syllable, uttered just one sentence.
“Thank you for your gracious consideration.”
Choosing words that typical children wouldn’t use, and taking great care not to let my babyish pronunciation slip through.
In a normal situation, this wouldn’t be enough to draw attention. But everyone in the throne room had their eyes on me—and I was three years old.
Because of this, everyone in the room must have looked at me once more. They might even whisper amongst themselves, “That Princess Blanche from Lamore seems quite bright.”
And unless something major happens, that’ll be the end of it. Among the flood of envoys arriving, no one will go out of their way to focus on me.
But that’s all I need. Just that small reaction is enough to give the impression to the other hostages sharing the Emerald Palace that the Empire’s high officials have expectations for my future.
It’ll make them think twice about bothering me—better to stay on good terms with someone the Empire might favor.
That’s all I need.
Satisfied, I left the throne room, feeling the nature of the stares aimed at me change. For my first step on my first day in the Retaire Empire, this had gone more than well.
*
Yi Baek-ryeon—also known as Blanche—was not the type to underestimate herself. She knew exactly how talented she was.
However, she did overestimate what a three-year-old child could do.
A typical three-year-old, after a month-long journey and being dragged straight into an imperial audience without rest, wouldn’t be quietly standing there, much less able to say a single word.
They wouldn’t even know words like “gracious” or “consideration,” and even if they did, they wouldn’t be able to use them so precisely.
They wouldn’t stand straight, shoulders back, with perfect posture either.
By doing everything an ordinary three-year-old couldn’t, Blanche left a much deeper impression than she had intended.
“Interesting, that one.”
The Emperor gave his evaluation as he waited for Blanche to leave. His tone made the Empress, seated beside him, narrow her eyes.
“Your Majesty, there are things you simply should not say about people.”
“Ah, yes. You’re right.”
The young man—only 22 years old and already the Emperor—smiled dazzlingly.
“Then, how would the Empress evaluate Princess Blanche?”
A child who could mask her fatigue after a month-long journey. A child who used words like “gracious” and “consideration” with ease. But not overly talkative.
“She seemed cute and well-behaved… Still, sending a three-year-old was too much. Lamore went too far.”
“Yes, I thought you might say that.”
“Pardon? What does that mean—?”
“Bring in the next audience.”
The Emperor had been reminded of someone when he saw Blanche: his younger brother.
The current first in line to the throne—Grand Duke Melchizedek Georges Pendleton—was 17 years younger than the Emperor. A child who had been granted the Grand Duke title at only five years old, destined to be Emperor someday.
Like Blanche, he was precocious for his age. He didn’t flaunt his status, didn’t show his weaknesses, and didn’t parade his abilities around.
“It might be worth checking in on her again.”
A phoenix cannot befriend a sparrow. Talented people require friends of equal caliber. And until now, the Emperor had never seen anyone suitable to be his brother’s companion.
If Blanche truly was such a talent, the fact that she was a princess of a small nation meant nothing. What mattered was his brother’s happiness.
And so, the Emperor decided to meet with Blanche again—a result far exceeding what she had intended.
*
The body of a three-year-old is so very fragile.
The moment I reached the room assigned to me in the Emerald Palace, I collapsed.
The last thing I remembered was hearing Tula scream just as I lost consciousness.
A few times after that, I briefly regained consciousness—just enough to sip the soup or water Tula spooned into my mouth—before drifting off again.
“…She’s awake…”
“…How dare she disrespect His Majesty…”
The voices outside were what brought me back again. Not because they were loud—over half of what was said was too quiet to make out anyway.
What woke me was the emotion laced in those voices.
I had heard that tone before—last time I met the Emperor. In short, this meant someone powerful was very displeased.
Triggered by that trauma, I rolled out of bed. With my three-year-old stature, the bed was tall enough that it felt like I was falling, but I didn’t even notice the pain.
“Your tongue seems excessively free. Would you like it freed even more?”
Fortunately, Tula’s head was still attached by the time I opened the door. I threw myself at the Emperor’s feet before it was too late. The skin scraped against the floor burned.
“Greetings… to… a noble guest…”
Ever since I came into this body, I avoided speaking in front of others—I hated how my words came out slurred. When I had to speak, I carefully chose words that wouldn’t sound too babyish.
But there was no time for that now.
“Oh my, and who might this be? At last, the expensive face appears.”
That one comment told me everything about what had happened before I got up.
The Emperor must have visited suddenly. Tula, panicked, probably explained that I was ill. The Emperor ignored her. And now here we are.
“It… was all… this servant’s… fault…”
And that part was true—Tula wasn’t at fault.
Both Lamore and Retaire were monarchies, but their class systems were very different.
Lamore’s was probably more relaxed, while Retaire’s was stricter.
So, of course, Tula had panicked when ordered to bring a sick three-year-old to the Emperor. And the Emperor, in turn, was furious that a mere nanny would dare talk back.
But even from a neutral perspective, this wasn’t Tula’s fault. This was Lamore’s.
If you’re sending someone to a strict empire like this, train them properly. If Tula caused trouble here, it would reflect badly on them too. But maybe this kind of incompetence is why Lamore is a small nation.
And after that, the blame falls to me. I may look like a three-year-old, but inside I’m a 65-year-old former chancellor. I should have anticipated this.
I should’ve warned Tula in advance to wake me by any means necessary if someone important came.
Since Lamore didn’t train her properly, it’s now my responsibility.
“Please cut off this servant’s tongue, punish me for my mistakes.”
So I bowed low and begged for mercy.
Honestly, even as I spoke, I was unsure which words to choose, my pronunciation was that bad. But whether he understood through context or actually caught my meaning, the Emperor didn’t ask for clarification.
“So you’re saying this is your fault? Ah, I see—because you told her not to wake you even if the Emperor came?”
I’m speechless. Seriously, what kind of man talks like this to a three-year-old? Lamore should be bowing a hundred times in thanks that I was sent.
Without memories of a past life, even a smart child would’ve broken down crying by now. Or worse, if I hadn’t woken up, the Emperor might’ve found only a dead nanny.
“The fault of a servant lies with the master. Failing to manage my servant is my mistake. Please punish me.”
An eternity passed—and then a cheerful laugh rang out above me.
“Haha! Looks like I went too far with my joke. You may rise, Princess Blanche. It was just a jest—I’m not angry.”
Unbelievable words, truly. But for now, it seemed neither Tula nor I would be executed on the spot, so I was relieved.
“Your Majesty’s grace covers all under heaven.”
My body was still heavy with fatigue, and the release of tension made everything ache. But I couldn’t afford to faint now. Holding back a sigh of relief, I finally raised my head.
And there I saw—smiling gently, as if he hadn’t just been threatening violence—a stunningly handsome man.
