TEWRIT 08

Episode 8

“You should have refused the Empress’s seat when I took the throne. Honestly, I was disgusted by your ambition back then.”

But that wasn’t ambition. Maybe it was a misunderstanding as someone from Bianteca, but it was love – she had only wanted to keep the man she loved all to herself.

It wasn’t ambition. It was love.

“You should’ve had a child, at least.”

Even if she had, he still would’ve killed her. Eliano knew that.

“If you’d given birth to a son, I would’ve made him my heir.”

Even as the poison spread through her body and her mind faded, she couldn’t stop the fury boiling up at those words. She wanted to rip the lying mouth right off his face.

Even if she’d had a son, they never would’ve accepted a prince with Biantecan blood as Zacador’s heir. But still… maybe things would’ve been different if she had a child. If only she hadn’t lost her baby as Crown Princess. If only that child had grown up—maybe they would’ve protected her… If only she hadn’t had those repeated miscarriages…

Her eyelids grew heavier. Eliano was accepting death, but at the same time, she fiercely denied it. She had wanted to die—but not like this. Not like this…!

“Farewell, my love.”

Where had it all gone wrong? Was it losing the baby? Not stepping aside from the Empress’s seat? Not working harder to charm and keep her husband’s love? Believing that his love would last forever? Was it not taking his hand when she had the chance?

No, it all started when she was sold off to Zacador, like a piece of property in marriage.

I should’ve never come to Zacador… That was the beginning…

She wanted to go back. If she could, she would fight back—even if it meant being beaten to death by her father. She would have run. She regretted living her life so obediently. She wanted to undo everything. Marcel’s voice grew faint. Even his face blurred as her consciousness sank into the depths.

When she opened her eyes, it was spring again. She was twenty-one.

“The Duke of Rosana has arrived!”

The most powerful man in the Bianteca Empire, Duke Rosana, entered the ballroom holding a young woman’s hand. She walked gracefully, her movements elegant. A young noble lady, new to high society, couldn’t hide her curiosity.

“Who is she? She looks too young to be his wife.”

Her chaperone gently corrected her.

“Eliano Rosana. The Duke’s eldest daughter. The Duchess was supposed to come tonight, but it seems she brought her first daughter instead. Remember that name and face well—she’s the noblest flower in all of Bianteca society.”

Eliano, raised with care and luxury from birth, was the pride of the Rosana family. It wasn’t unusual for the Duke to appear with his daughter at events like this. He made no effort to hide how precious his “flower” was.

“But if she’s his daughter… she’s not married yet? She must at least be engaged. Who’s the lucky man?”

The noblewoman chuckled.

“She’s unmarried, and she doesn’t have a fiancé. The Duke treasures his daughters so much that he says he’ll keep them by his side forever.”

“You must be joking! How could a noblewoman stay unmarried? I heard Lady Eliano is already over twenty.”

Eliano Rosana, despite being of age, had neither married nor been promised to anyone. Unlike most noblewomen who were sold off in marriage for family or politics, she hadn’t been. That earned her both admiration and jealousy.

“For Lady Eliano, marriage isn’t a duty—it’s a choice. Her father loves her deeply. It’s a beautiful thing. Some even say they’re jealous of how much he dotes on her.”

“Really?”

“Her twin brother, the Young Duke, adores her too. Who needs marriage with a family like that?”

If Eliano wished it, she could stay unmarried forever, keeping the Rosana name. Many nobles said so. There was even a famous story. When Emperor Leopold asked for Eliano’s hand in marriage for his son, the Duke replied that he would keep her with him forever.

“At least Duke Rosana isn’t impressed by crown princes. He loves his daughter more than anything.”

Before anyone realized, several young ladies had gathered around Eliano. She wasn’t the most striking beauty—but her grace and elegance were unmatched. With noble blood and a kind heart, Eliano was admired in high society. She wasn’t just a pretty face—she was the ideal lady.

Lately, she’d been seen visiting the temple more often. An elderly noble couple who saw her praying said she looked like an angel sent from heaven. The ladies around her now were recent acquaintances—young women devoted to their faith.

“Lady Eliano, will you be joining the prayer meeting this weekend?”

“Oh my, calling me ‘sister’… This isn’t the temple.”

Another girl softly scolded the first for the personal term.

“Please forgive Diana. She’s still learning the rules of society, Lady Eliano.”

Another noblewoman spoke warmly.

“I miss attending doctrine classes with you at the temple. I hope we can study together again.”

Eliano smiled gently and replied kindly.

“I do plan to attend the prayer meeting. I also miss studying the doctrine with you. I’d love to join again when there’s a chance.”

Eliano ended with her usual blessing: “May the fairy of fortune be with you.” Then she walked toward another group.

One young lady whispered with a dreamy look.

“How can she be so elegant…”

“My etiquette tutor says I should just copy her… but it’s so hard.”

“Same here. Yesterday, I got scolded for making noise when I set down my teacup.”

Another sighed deeply.

“I want to devote myself to the temple… but if I must join society, I want to be like Lady Rosana.”

The young lady, expected to be the next great beauty, whispered softly.

“But the rumours about her aren’t true. She may look delicate like glass, but she’s not the kind of person who just cries and gives in.”

The others nodded.

Lady Eliano was known to be kind and sweet—so much so that she couldn’t say no. People said she was too soft, too easy to manipulate. Some older noblewomen openly said she was too weak to lead in high society.

When someone said something mean to her, she would tremble and tear up, and others had to defend her. But even that made her seem like a fragile flower. Whenever she cried, noble sons would rush to protect her.

Those who disliked her mocked her as “the faucet lady”, but her reputation never suffered. She could afford to show weakness—because her last name was Rosana.

— “She’s not an angel, just a fool. Smiling even in situations where she should be angry—what else can you call her but a fool?”

Crown Prince Heraith once harshly criticized Eliano at a private club. When another nobleman said she was his ideal type, the prince scoffed.

— “Lady Rosana is your ideal? You’re just like those vulgar Zacador men. That’s exactly the kind of woman they like.”

The mood chilled. Heraith had once been held captive in Zacador, nearly killed. He hated them deeply.

Many thought Heraith was just being unfair. Zacador praised gentle, obedient women and forbade them from power. They worshipped beauty, kindness, and grace. Eliano Rosana had all three.

Even in Bianteca, many young men admired her. A beautiful, angelic lady—what more could they want? On top of that, she was the daughter of a duke, the most noble flower in society.

— “She’s too weak to be the Moon of the Empire. She wouldn’t even survive in the place of the Star.”

The Moon meant Empress, and the Star meant Crown Princess. In Heraith’s eyes, Eliano was far too fragile. When someone joked that Heraith could protect her, he snorted.

— “I don’t want a fragile flower I have to protect. I want a smart partner who can rule the empire by my side. She can be physically weak, but her mind must be strong. Flint, don’t you agree?”

But lately, something had changed in Eliano.

Her once weak, blurry eyes had grown sharper, clearer. Her always pleasant smile had been replaced by expressions that fit each moment.

That wasn’t all.

— “Did you hear? Lady Rosana kicked out Countess Hyren’s daughter at a tea party.”

— “I heard she even scolded a servant for spilling wine at the Marquess of Perseit’s banquet.”

— “Lady Rosana? Are you serious?”

The biggest change was this: Eliano now showed her emotions clearly. When she needed to be angry, she didn’t hold back.

— “And that’s not all. The one behind the spilt wine was Lady Ritan’s daughter. Eliano called her in and gave her a proper warning.”

— “Wasn’t she the type to stay silent even if someone poisoned her wine? This doesn’t make sense.”

— “Maybe there really was poison. Otherwise…”

To be continued.