I stood before the massive doors of the throne room, where the Emperor was waiting.
The thick iron doors—carved with ornate patterns that spoke of centuries of imperial power—loomed before me like the gates to another world. No matter how hard I tried, I felt I could never open them on my own.
Intimidating. Everything about this place is designed to make you feel small.
I took a deep breath and nodded to the guard. Slowly, the heavy iron doors swung open.
The Emperor and Empress sat on their thrones at the end of a long crimson carpet that stretched from the entrance to the dais opposite. The distance seemed impossibly vast—a gauntlet designed to humble anyone who walked it.
Below the platform, I caught sight of Andrea.
He wore a sullen expression, as if displeased that things were unfolding differently than he had originally planned.
Good.
Seeing that sour look on his face made me feel a little better.
It was worth all the planning. What can you do, dear brother? This is just the beginning.
On both sides of the carpet stood countless nobles—faces and names I didn't know, though I was certain they all knew mine. Every eye in the room was fixed on me.
Callius hasn't arrived yet.
I scanned the room quickly, but his distinctive presence was nowhere to be seen.
The oppressive atmosphere—thick with judgment and expectation—threatened to crush me. But I reminded myself that this would end quickly if I just kept moving.
So I walked.
With every step I took, the hem of my dress—heavy as my own body weight—tangled around my legs, threatening to trip me.
I struggled to walk in a straight line. Only after a few awkward stumbles did I finally reach the Emperor and Empress.
Behind me, I heard the nobles whispering.
"They said she was losing her mind, and I think she's even forgotten how to walk properly."
"Pfft—look at her staggering like a newborn foal."
"Don't laugh. She's pitiful."
Some watched with cruel amusement, as if the mad Princess were performing like a court jester. Others shook their heads with twisted smiles, their pity laced with contempt.
At least Callius didn't see this.
I pressed my lips together tightly, fighting down the wave of shame that threatened to drown me.
My low self-esteem—embedded throughout my entire life—had not suddenly recovered just because I had realized the conspiracy surrounding me.
Moment by moment, I simply encouraged myself and pushed forward.
People's needle-like gazes and sharp laughter felt like they were piercing my skin. Even this brief moment of greeting the Emperor and Empress was agonizing.
But I remembered the small warmth Karl had given me just before I came here, and I steeled my resolve.
"I-I greet His Majesty the Supreme Emperor and..."
Even though I had calmed myself, the voice that emerged from my mouth trembled pitifully. The sound startled even me.
But I forced myself to finish.
"...Her Majesty the gracious Empress."
"Rise, Chloe."
My father—Emperor William—spoke in a tone so indifferent it made all my courage and effort feel utterly futile.
He didn't seem to care at all about me, his daughter, who had just delivered her greeting with every ounce of willpower she possessed.
Well, I didn't expect anything different.
I had never received any attention from my father since the day I was born.
It had been a very long time since I had seen him—even though we lived in the same palace.
Is this the first time since Mother's funeral?
No—this would be my second time. I had been in a similar situation in my past life when I went through the formalities of marrying Viscount Pelsus.
In any case, it was a face I had only seen a handful of times across two lifetimes.
If it weren't for the silver hair that had been passed down through generations of the Idelian royal family—and the throne he sat upon—I wouldn't have been able to recognize my own father.
My father's gaze didn't linger long on the blood relative he hadn't seen in years.
He glanced at me absently and sighed—as if my very existence were an inconvenience.
He must think it's ridiculous. Seeing someone like me—thin as a dried branch—dressed up in all this finery.
I knew the truth as well as anyone: it wasn't me wearing the dress. It was the dress wearing me.
The Emperor quickly turned his gaze away—toward the cluster of young noble ladies gathered on the far side of the room.
He has no interest in me. Or my marriage.
Watching him ogle another woman while leaving his wife sitting beside him made it abundantly clear that he was indifferent even to his own marriage.
In any case, my marriage was entirely Kavala-driven. My father was simply here to fulfill minimal obligations.
Kavala smiled gently at me from beside the Emperor—either pretending not to notice his wandering eyes, or simply not caring.
"You look so pretty today, Chloe."
How dare you lie like that without even blinking?
I knelt and forced myself to look naively pleased by her hollow praise.
"Thank you, Your Majesty."
"What are you saying? Just call me Mother, as usual."
"Yes... Mother."
The nobles exchanged strange glances at our conversation. They were likely wondering whether the rumors about the Empress harming me and my biological mother were true.
At that moment, the attendant standing at the entrance announced a new arrival.
"The Marquis of Rodrian!"
Just as when I first appeared, every eye in the room turned toward the entrance.
The throne room doors—which had closed after letting me in—slowly opened once more.
Callius appeared through the widening gap.
I was completely captivated by his intense golden eyes—which were turned directly toward me.
"Ah...!"
I couldn't help the soft gasp that escaped my lips.
It was as if the sun itself had broken through the clouds.
When Callius met my gaze, he smiled—a confident, almost arrogant expression that seemed to ask:
'Impressed by how well I've maneuvered the marriage negotiations up to today?'
He walked forward with a gait that seemed solid and unwavering even to me, who had never studied martial arts.
Behind him, the knights of Ronheim followed in perfect formation.
There were about fifteen of them, but they moved with such precision and discipline that it seemed like a single organism advancing in lockstep.
It's very... intense.
The knights of Callius, clad in gray-white leather armor—perhaps due to Ronheim's perpetually snow-covered environment—radiated an immense sense of intimidation.
They look like giants.
I had thought Callius might simply be tall for a Ronheimer, but looking at his knights, it seemed that wasn't the case at all.
Every single one of them was at least a head taller than the Arrental nobles. Some were even two heads taller.
...I'm scared.
You shouldn't judge people by their appearance, but seeing their sheer size made me instinctively recoil.
How could Arrental have defeated such formidable-looking warriors?
I had heard that as soon as Ronheim lost their Saintess, the territory collapsed like a building whose foundation had crumbled.
What happened in Ronheim during that war?
The knights of Callius looked so fearsome that it made me wonder what could have possibly brought them down a dozen years ago.
I straightened my shoulders, remembering what Callius had said about not eating me.
He is my ally—not my enemy.
I held my posture proudly, but others in the room could not do the same.
The expressions of the Arrental nobles watching Callius and his retinue stiffened visibly.
The Ronheim warriors had such harsh, weathered faces—it seemed to frighten the pampered Arrental court even more.
Is that fierce impression... a characteristic of northerners?
Somehow, I felt an ominous aura from everyone who met my gaze.
It seemed like they were glaring at me... but I must be mistaken.
The Arrental nobles, who had been momentarily frozen by the intimidating presence of Callius and his men, soon began to sneer at their attire.
Though the Ronheim knights looked formidable, their clothing was extremely practical and unadorned.
To the Arrentals—who valued authority and prided themselves on their splendor—such simplicity was nothing more than the mark of uncivilized savages.
"Tsk, tsk. People said their cultural level was no different from that of primitive tribes."
"Don't they look like wandering slash-and-burn farmers from the mountains?"
"A band of bandits I saw near the border once looked exactly like that."
Thick, contemptuous voices buzzed throughout the hall.
There was no way Callius couldn't have heard what I could hear so clearly.
But there was not a single moment of wavering in his firm gaze.
Callius crossed the long carpet—which had seemed endless to me—in just a few confident strides with his long legs.
"I greet the Idelian royal family."
The Emperor responded with visible displeasure.
"You brought quite a lot of people."
It seemed my father was wary of Callius entering the palace with so many knights.
In truth, in a palace where imperial guards were already stationed, fifteen knights weren't an overwhelming number.
But the presence of these fifteen Ronheim warriors created the illusion of facing a hundred soldiers.
"My subordinates were very eager to see my bride as soon as possible."
His gaze turned to me.
Why do people from the winter kingdom have eyes like the blazing sun of midsummer?
Wherever his gaze landed, my skin seemed to burn as if kissed by fire.
He smiled and continued in that slow, deliberate tone.
"I had no choice but to bring them along."
No one interrupted Callius as he took his time delivering his explanation—which wasn't particularly long, but felt deliberately unhurried.
Everyone simply waited, holding their breath, desperate for him to finish.
And yet, he turned to me and added in a stage whisper loud enough for the entire hall to hear:
"Please understand, Your Highness. They are such self-willed people."
...What?
It was my father who had shown his displeasure about the number of knights—and now Callius was asking for my understanding?
I glanced at my father's face.
It's a situation that's too ambiguous to call out directly, but too uncomfortable to dismiss as a mistake.
If it had been anyone else, it might not have mattered. But the speaker was Callius—which made it impossible to ignore the deliberate intent behind his words.
The atmosphere in the throne room froze in an instant.
Everyone stood perfectly still, as if afraid that even the smallest movement might shatter the fragile tension.
He just... publicly undermined the Emperor's authority. In the Emperor's own throne room.
And he did it by pretending to defer to me—a disgraced, powerless princess.
It was a masterful political maneuver.
And judging by the tightness around my father's eyes, he knew it too.
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