Charlize looked at Loxdian with an expressionless face.
'Honestly, seeing that face up close is a bit terrifying,' I thought. But at this point, I’d stopped caring.
"Is Duke Altsbeit talking to you behind my back?" I asked. "Is he asking you to kill me?"
"No. Why would he? You're far too useful to him for that," Charlize replied, mirroring her grandfather's cold logic. "In fact, if he found out I was here, he’d probably just order me to do more of his dirty work. Or scold me first. Definitely scold me."
Loxdian and Noah exchanged a look. I hadn't come to Loxdian’s office out of some sudden sense of sibling loyalty; I had questions that only someone at the top of the Imperial food chain could answer.
"I have a question," I said, leaning back. "Since you're the one who hears everything first... what kind of rumors are flying around out there?"
The maids didn't know the full story, and even if they did, they were too scared of my "condition" to tell me the truth. And my grandfather? He’d only tell me what served his interests.
"What’s been happening while I was 'convalescing'? I want to know exactly how much worse my reputation has gotten."
"Oh, so you knew it was a piece of shit?" Loxdian asked, looking amused.
"Your Majesty..." Noah warned softly.
"What? It’s the truth." Loxdian turned back to me. "There are two main rumors. One: that you finally met your match and were properly dumped."
"I’m sure people are celebrating in the streets," I muttered.
"And two: that the Lemut guy took your money and ran as soon as he’d finished 'taming' you."
"I see."
"Why are you so calm? You're not even angry?"
I looked at him, my eyes blank. "I don't have any energy left to be angry."
I’d done everything I could. I’d tried to save Askin, and he’d been the one to walk away without even giving me a chance to explain. I was exhausted from fighting a battle that was already lost.
Loxdian’s eyebrows rose at my response.
* * *
'Thinking about it just makes me angry all over again,' I thought, crossing my arms.
If my death was certain because of the failed mission, was I just supposed to sit around and wait for the executioner?
"What are you planning to do now?" Loxdian asked.
"What?" I looked up.
I felt a sudden spark of defiance. I didn't have to tell this tyrant anything, but I was tired of being pushed around.
"I heard the old man—Duke Altsbeit—is playing a very dirty game," Loxdian said. "I assume you don't like it?"
"I hate it," I replied coldly.
If the Duke hadn't "team-killed" my plans with that marriage announcement, things might have turned out differently. But no, he had to take all the credit for ruining his granddaughter’s life.
'Wow, Grandpa. Congratulations. Clap, clap, clap,' I thought sarcastically. 'As a gift, I’m going to make sure your life is a living hell.'
"Since you hate it so much... why not join the Imperial family?" Loxdian offered.
"No."
Loxdian hesitated. He clearly hadn't expected such a blunt rejection.
"Why? You said you didn't like the old man."
"I really have to ask... do you honestly think I like *you*?"
"Like me? That’s disgusting."
"Exactly. I don't like you either."
Loxdian looked like he was chewing on something sour. It was true that he wasn't much better than the Duke. He’d refused to lend me money and had threatened me from the moment we met. I remembered every little slight, every "dress inspection" he’d forced on me while I was trying to save lives.
"I’m not going to let my grandfather have his way," I said, smiling crookedly. "But I’m not going to let *you* have your way either. Why should I?"
I uncrossed my arms and leaned in. "If you want my help, bow your head and ask for it. Though I don't know if I’ll even listen then."
"Do you want to die?"
"Kill me then. Go ahead."
"Ah!" Loxdian ruffled his hair in frustration. "Then how are you going to live?"
"You'll see."
I’d decided how to spend the rest of my time. Everyone already thought I was a villainess. Why not lean into it? Whatever I did now, people would just say, "That’s so Charlize."
Eureka. It was the perfect cover for whatever I wanted to do.
Loxdian watched me for a moment, then a familiar, mischievous smile spread across his face—the look of a bad boy who’d just come up with a brilliant, terrible idea.
"Are you serious?"
"What’s with that face?"
"You said you don't want to be part of the Imperial family. But I think I like the idea of playing this game."
"...And?"
"I can help you."
"Help me?"
Loxdian’s eyes narrowed. "I know better than anyone what truly bothers that old 'inspiration' of yours."
"What are you suggesting?"
"Nothing specific. Just live your life."
I didn't answer.
"You just have to keep your pact with me," Loxdian continued.
"The deal?"
"You haven't forgotten, have you? Instead of paying back the money, you promised to 'play more.'"
He was right. Duke Altsbeit wanted me to stay quiet and behave so he could marry me off to the Child family. Therefore, the best way to spite him was to be as loud, as public, and as "vicious" as possible.
"How sure are you that this will work?"
"Trust me. That old man won't even bat an eye if you just 'act' a little. You have to feed his anger properly. Will you listen? Your 'elder brother' has a very good idea."
I unfolded my arms and looked at him. "Tell me."
* * *
One week later.
Besides the grand banquets, the Empire was home to countless smaller social events—salons, teas, and family parties where information was traded as freely as wine.
The party held at Count Rotaria’s estate was known for being exceptionally extravagant.
'Tsk. Typical party for a parvenu,' some of the guests thought, even as they greedily eyed the jewels and silks on display. Count Rotaria had made a fortune in fabrics and had more wealth than many ancient aristocratic houses.
The Countess Rotaria was in her element, acting as if she were the most important woman in the room, even looking down on higher-ranking ladies.
"I heard she’s still 'confined,'" the Countess whispered to her friends in the Gaemang Club.
"Well, wouldn't you be? Poor thing..."
"Kkalkkalkkal! Is that a pretty face I see? My God, I’m so sorry for her."
The room erupted in laughter. Except for a few who felt uncomfortable, everyone was busy dissecting the rumors about Charlize. Not even the Pope or the Emperor was safe from the gossip of the "Human Parallelepiped" (the social circle).
"Why? I heard the ice sculpture she broke was priceless."
"Oh my God! So she really went into 'exile' because of that?"
"Otherwise, why hasn't she shown her face in two weeks?"
The rumors grew and morphed until people who hadn't even been at the banquet believed Charlize had been permanently banished.
"It’s because she’s ashamed," someone added. "Honestly, she was so insensitive."
"Ah, poor Princess."
"Who do you think her new fiancé will be?"
"Don't even start. Who would want her now?"
The name Charlize still carried an immense weight—either of fame or notoriety. The Countess Rotaria was busy laughing, her vanity satisfied.
It was then that the luxuriously designed doors of the ballroom burst open.