Chapter 11: The Third Fiancée’s Unsettling Welcome

Chapter 11

Erich turned to look at his fiancée, who was chattering brightly.

In truth, this woman, as spirited as a young colt, had always been a distant figure in Erich’s life.

She was neither the primary instigator who had vehemently insulted him, nor had she ever harbored any personal animosity towards him.

All he knew was that she was a woman treated like a princess in the southwestern provinces, a vestige of the nobility from two generations past, when the continent had been embroiled in the tumult of the Great War.

While that was all he knew, it was more than enough to leave a profoundly negative impression on Erich.

For it was self-evident what kind of woman would emerge from being born into a prestigious family, endowed with powerful magic, and subsequently revered by all.

Aristocratic sensibilities and Erich stood at diametrically opposing poles; they harbored a mutual contempt for one another.

“It’s a belated question, but are you well?” Erich asked, his gaze fixed on her. “I heard you suffered an accident shortly after our engagement was settled.”

Erich deliberately brought up Evening’s accident once more, allowing the words to linger.

He had been told that, unable to evade the Emperor’s proposal, she had drowned her sorrows in drink, lamenting her unfortunate predicament.

“And that you changed somewhat after that,” he added, a subtle edge to his voice.

“Ah, yes, that’s correct,” Evening replied, her tone bright. “I am perfectly well.”

‘Perfectly well,’ she claimed. Erich, however, felt anything but. The notion that an engagement to him could be so profoundly shocking as to fundamentally alter a person churned his stomach.

To receive such a cold reception, despite their lack of any significant prior connection, was an affront. It was, in fact, precisely the kind of incident that fueled his contempt for the entire aristocratic class.

“My past memories have grown quite hazy,” Evening admitted, “but my body is perfectly sound.”

“A relief, indeed,” Erich drawled. “I had feared you might have suffered some grave misfortune due to the shock of our engagement. Had that been the case, I would have been unable to face the Margrave.”

“It seems I was so utterly taken aback by the prospect of moving from the provinces to the capital and becoming empress that my footing simply gave way,” Evening offered, a hint of self-deprecation in her voice.

“Ah, I see,” Erich replied, a knowing glint in his eye. “So you indulged in copious amounts of alcohol, and then, perhaps, slipped?”

“Foolish, wasn’t it?” Evening chuckled. “I simply had too much celebratory wine and made a rather clumsy mistake. You see, I have a very low tolerance for alcohol. Are you a strong drinker, Lord Erich? How much can you consume?”

Erich offered no reply.

And yet, there was something about Evening, now that he met her in person, that defied Erich’s understanding.

“Perhaps you don’t drink much, then?” Evening pressed on. “Last time I saw you, you didn’t seem particularly intoxicated, but then you died—er, passed away—so I couldn’t quite get a read on your tolerance.”

At times, she behaved with the utmost deference, like a subordinate, yet the moment an opening presented itself, she would approach him with an almost startling familiarity. She seemed adept at ingratiating herself, yet somehow, it never struck him as servile.

She didn’t appear to be infatuated with him, yet she behaved with an inexplicable familiarity that utterly baffled him.

Since becoming aware of his own immortality, she was the very first person to ever mention his death to his face, let alone treat it as a casual jest.

Those who had witnessed the magic that brought his lifeless body back to life had invariably regarded him with either profound awe or utter revulsion.

But this woman…

She treated death as a trifle, she simpered with unseemly coquetry, and then, out of nowhere, she had knelt in the carriage, declaring her inexplicable intention to become his ‘underling’….

Her every action seemed to defy all logic.

He found it utterly displeasing that this woman, who ought to be swallowing humiliation each time his hand brushed hers, instead behaved with such an easy familiarity.

It was equally disquieting that the woman who should be cowering in fear, constantly vigilant of his mood, was instead smiling with such unblemished clarity.

Noticing the faint crease that had spontaneously appeared between Erich’s brows, Evening’s eyes widened perceptibly.

“If you keep frowning like that, you’ll get wrinkles on your forehead,” she chirped. “Such a handsome face, it would be an absolute tragedy for it to be marred by lines.”

Each teasing word from Evening felt like a grain of sand grating beneath his heel.

“Are you always so garrulous?” Erich snapped, his patience wearing thin. “Your incessant chatter is irksome. Be silent.”

“Understood,” she responded promptly.

Without requiring him to repeat himself, Evening swiftly pursed her lips, silencing herself instantly.

It was compliant obedience, yet even that failed to satisfy him fully.

Erich cast a reproving glance at the docile Evening, who had so readily fallen silent, before roughly throwing open the door to a nearby room.

“This is the finest room closest to my own,” Erich declared. “It was occupied by my first fiancée.”

At this, Evening turned to Erich, her expression one of utter disbelief. Though she remained silent, having been commanded to do so, her face plainly conveyed the unspoken question, ‘Is that truly so?’

Finally, Evening, who had managed to discomfit Erich throughout their entire journey to the capital, displayed an expression that was anything but placid. Without a moment’s hesitation, Erich gently but firmly guided her into the room.

“Wait, Your Majesty, ah…!” Evening gasped.

Inexorably ushered into the room once occupied by Erich’s first fiancée, Evening instinctively hunched her shoulders, her gaze sweeping across her surroundings.

The room was indeed spacious and opulent, living up to its designation as the ‘finest room.’

Ornate Baroque furnishings and meticulously embroidered silk tapestries, leaving no surface unadorned, cluttered her vision. Such was the pervasive splendor that her eyes found little respite.

Though it had remained unoccupied for several years, the diligent efforts of the palace maids had ensured the room was impeccably clean, much like a freshly prepared suite in a grand hotel.

Sunlight, streaming through the expansive glass window, cast a dazzling sheen upon the room’s numerous silver ornaments, making them sparkle brilliantly.

“Some of the original occupant’s belongings remain,” Erich stated, gesturing vaguely around the room, “but they are all quite serviceable. You may dispose of them as you see fit if they displease you, though I caution you to consider carefully, as the palace’s maintenance budget is not overly generous.”

Erich’s fingers idly brushed against a piece of furniture, then a painting, all left behind by his first fiancée.

As befitted the well-bred daughter of an ancient Marquisate, she had possessed lavish tastes. Even after her demise, most of her belongings had been deemed too valuable for immediate disposal and thus remained.

“Am I truly to use this room?” Evening asked, her voice hushed. “The room that your first fiancée once occupied?”

“My second fiancée, by contrast, resided in a rather humble chamber,” Erich replied, a hint of disdain in his tone. “I could hardly relegate you to such a place.”

Despite having been readily granted the finest room, replete with luxurious furnishings befitting imperial dignity, Evening’s complexion had visibly paled.

She drew her already small frame even further inward, her shoulders hunching, and hesitated, a picture of unease.

“R-really?” she stammered, her voice barely a whisper.

“Do you dislike it?” Erich’s question hung in the air.

He knew, of course, that she would be frightened and displeased; his question was merely a barb. No woman, after all, would welcome the prospect of occupying a chamber once belonging to her fiancé’s predecessor.

This held true both in the conventional sense and, more ominously, in an unconventional one.

“Are you truly alright with this, Lord Erich?” Evening inquired, her voice trembling slightly. “Your first fiancée, she surely…”

“Attempted to murder me,” Erich finished, his voice utterly devoid of emotion.

His tone remained disconcertingly light, as though recounting an amusing anecdote. The sight of Evening’s still-taut expression finally brought a measure of satisfaction to him.

Erich’s mind drifted, recalling the chilling memories he shared with his first fiancée, the room’s original occupant.

Evening was, in fact, his third fiancée; both of his preceding engagements had culminated in tragedy.

His first fiancée had been a woman of exceptional lineage and formidable capabilities, her excellence renowned throughout the realm.

Born into a Marquisate renowned for its powerful magic across generations, she was a sorceress whose abilities equaled ten ordinary practitioners. Her erudition and cultivation were extensive, leaving her utterly faultless as a candidate for empress.

Yet, as a noblewoman of profound dignity, she found herself utterly unable to accept the ascension of a magic-less human to the imperial throne.

She viewed Erich, who seemed destined never to awaken magic no matter how much time elapsed, as nothing short of a cripple. Furthermore, she despaired for the future of the nation he was fated to govern.

Though not inherently ill-natured, she pitied the ‘crippled’ Erich, yet she exerted every effort to thwart his enthronement.

Her pity, however, was a source of profound discomfort, rendering any true closeness impossible. Nevertheless, her desperate resolve to prevent his enthronement, even at the cost of abandoning the empress’s position, was, in its own way, commendable.

Even so, he had never truly anticipated that she would go so far as to attempt his murder.

“No, that’s not quite right,” Erich mused, a faint, chilling smile playing on his lips. “To say she merely ‘attempted’ to kill me would be a disservice. She, quite unequivocally, murdered me.”

The time was his nineteenth coming-of-age ceremony.

The former emperor’s illness was growing severe, and with Erich’s coming of age, the day he would inherit the imperial throne loomed perilously close.

As the former emperor stubbornly refused to alter his will, and Erich, for his part, showed no inclination to decline the succession, his first fiancée conspired with her family and murdered Erich.

There had been no mistake, no accident. Erich, lacking any means of resistance, had fallen into their meticulously laid trap and died a brutal death.

The moment the falling rock crushed his body was vivid in his memory. The impact of the massive boulder pinning his right side had instantly severed his consciousness.

When Erich’s body was finally retrieved from beneath the rock, it was a gruesome sight, too horrific to behold.

“Well?” Erich asked, his gaze fixed on Evening.

This was the room once occupied by the woman who had reduced the Crown Prince to such a state. Showing her the chamber of his first fiancée, who had betrayed him, plotted rebellion, and ultimately murdered him, was a clear, unmistakable warning.

It declared: ‘Even one superior to you in every way, one with far greater resolve, ultimately failed.’

‘If you wish to avoid a similar fate, you would do well to know your place.’

Of course, even without such explicit threats, no one would be pleased to inherit a room from a person who had attempted assassination and been executed for it.

What attitude would Evening display?

Erich awaited the reaction of the representative of the noble faction aiming for the Emperor’s downfall.

“It’s a lovely room, but… an ex-fiancée’s room? That’s just cruel,” Evening grumbled, her voice laced with a playful whine as she looked around. Erich’s eyebrows twitched at her light tone and eyes that seemed to pout.

“Cruel?”

“I appreciate the thought of giving me the best, but receiving something an old flame used feels… unsettling. Every woman would hate it. I’m even feeling jealous.”

“What?”

“I know things ended badly between you two. And I’m sure you have no lingering feelings, but still, to have to use the room and furniture of an ex-fiancée… I want to change everything to my own colors. Who should I speak to about purchasing new furniture?”

Evening punctuated her sentences with what sounded like feigned sighs, then turned energetically to a palace maid who had followed them to guide them to the room. The maid promptly provided the name and description of the head lady-in-waiting.

Evening nodded, seemingly unfazed, as she pondered how to acquire new furniture. Her light, almost fluttering demeanor grated on Erich’s nerves.

“‘Old flame,’ you say? We were never such a pair.”

“Didn’t you say it was your former fiancée’s room?”

“Indeed. It was my former fiancée’s room.”

“…?” Evening tilted her head, clearly perplexed. They were discussing the same topic, yet their conversation seemed utterly disconnected.