25. If You Sell Yourself to a Monster

2023.10.25.

Yuan had nothing to worry about.

This was because imperial servants from the capital, Cielo, had arrived one after another due to the emperor’s sudden visit and were busy preparing.

The space they were decorating was the east wing hall, located to the right of the mansion—exactly two stories shorter than the main building.

From a distance, Yuan watched the people gathering in the hall and instructed servants to clear the snow piled up in the garden.

While observing the staff stealing glances at the lavish space and the elegant guests, she thought she should ask Michelle to make them pretty, warm work uniforms.

Yuan suddenly looked up toward the second floor where Clade’s bedroom was located.

It was daytime, so she couldn’t even tell whether the lights inside were on or off.

She felt stifled, forbidden from offering comfort despite wanting to.

If only she could still watch over him openly like before—then at least she could push in and ask if there was any task for her.

And lately, letters from the Pelliese family had increased.

Yuan, who used to read through their threatening and intimidating messages, now burned each letter in the fireplace as soon as she received it without even opening it.

Now she truly appreciated the tall iron fence and the large guards who had blocked her path when she first arrived at this mansion.

She was glad someone was there to protect her—even if her uncle immediately sent Frederic to confront her.

In an emergency, she could always run to Clade’s bedroom. No one would dare intrude into the chamber of the so-called “monster,” the exiled prince.

Yet two days later, someone appeared before Yuan who could effortlessly bypass even that sturdy iron fence, the guards, and even Clade himself.

The very next morning after spending two nights with Clade, whose words had sharply decreased.

The emperor of the Empire Euphris, Igor Euphris—Clade’s uncle who had abandoned him—marched proudly over the black mansion’s iron gate, radiating authority.

***

Clade, always dressed in a nightgown, had for the first time in ten years put on formal attire, with the help of butler Gustav supporting his body.

Yuan, too, had hastily altered and worn a dress left behind by one of Clade’s former wives—the most vibrant in color and richly decorated.

Though it didn’t quite suit her youthful face, Henna praised her, saying she looked just like a princess from some kingdom.

As the formally dressed couple stepped side by side out into the mansion’s entrance hall, Emperor Igor Euphris arrived, accompanied by a procession of what looked to be over two hundred people.

True to his past as a warrior, the emperor rode in on a magnificent steed rather than a carriage.

Yuan felt as though she were facing a great lion in an abandoned jungle, and instinctively hunched her shoulders slightly.

As she naturally moved closer to Clade’s side, the towering emperor dismounted and strode forward, revealing slightly yellowed teeth in a smile.

“Hail, hail to the mighty Euphris. Your Majesty, I greet you.”

Yuan, hastily taught the proper etiquette by the butler, bowed her knees and head at the same time—only to find the emperor’s face suddenly looming close to hers.

The emperor, famed in his youth as a handsome man, had bold and striking features.

Yet between his thickly grown golden beard, ghastly scars flickered into view, making him appear terrifying to Yuan’s eyes.

His eyes sparkled, but not with intelligence—rather, with a madness close to boiling over.

Pale blue eyes, peering through his thick-skinned face, scrutinized Yuan from head to toe, then a thick hand reached out toward her.

Despite knowing it was impolite, Yuan first checked Clade’s expression before her own.

Clade’s sunken eyes, hidden behind the mask covering half his face, remained fixed straight ahead, unmoving since earlier.

Yuan placed her trembling hand onto Emperor Igor’s.

Igor seized her absurdly small hand, swiftly peeled off the long, white silk glove covering it, and lowered his lips.

Yuan, shoulders hunched, offered her hand—then had to suppress a scream at the emperor’s sudden, shocking action.

Staring straight into Yuan’s wide-open eyes, Emperor Igor pretended to bite and tear at the back of her hand like it was roasted meat, then deliberately shoved her entire finger into his mouth, bit down hard, and laughed.

Yuan instinctively realized:

Emperor Igor Euphris wasn’t merely a tyrant.

He was a mad dog!

***

While greeting Marquis Rev, whose complexion had turned ashen, and Marquis Companni, who frowned with thin, dense eyebrows, followed by the First Prince Bollonico flashing a bright smile, Yuan struggled to steady her trembling legs.

She had just sent them into the east wing party hall first under the pretense of adjusting her attire.

Leaning against the corridor wall, barely holding her collapsing body upright, Yuan stood dazed for a moment, still holding the glove she hadn’t managed to put back on.

“Hey.”

Startled like a rabbit spotting a predator, Yuan tensed and turned around.

Clade stood nearby—how long he had been there, she didn’t know.

His face showed no emotion, yet facing him, she suddenly felt tears welling up.

Her heart still pounded wildly, making it hard to control her expression. Though she knew this wasn’t the place to show weakness, the word “scared” rattled inside her mouth, ready to burst out.

“Don’t wander around alone in places without permission.”

Whether or not he sensed her feelings,

Clade only said that single sentence, looking down at Yuan with glassy eyes.

It was the same line she had heard endlessly over the past three days.

With so many guests flooding in from the capital, where on earth did she think she could go?

Clade’s gaze briefly, ever so briefly, rested on Yuan’s left hand, still gloveless. But it lasted only an instant.

She had hoped, just maybe, for a word of comfort—but his transparent purple eyes turned emotionlessly toward the party hall.

Swallowing a faint sense of shame, Yuan finally pulled on her glove and followed Clade into the party hall.

***

A long, horizontal table stretched across the room, backed by a masterpiece painting filling an entire wall.

It was set exclusively for the emperor, First Prince Bollonico, and the exiled prince’s couple.

It wasn’t entirely false to call this a wedding celebration—the people Emperor Igor brought seemed to be his closest confidants.

Whenever the emperor said even a single word, slightly drunk, they rushed in to echo him, leaving no room for awkward silence.

Thanks to the emperor eagerly tearing into the lavish food with his hands, the nobles also abandoned decorum and began eating as they pleased.

Most of Emperor Igor’s entourage were former soldiers, so they clearly preferred this informal, relaxed atmosphere.

Yuan glanced sideways at Clade sitting beside her, wondering what exactly was causing this persistent discomfort.

Clade hadn’t touched his food, sitting in serene silence.

His posture was perfectly upright—unlike his usual slouch—making him appear more princely than the short-haired Bollonico, who sat beside his father, smirking and giggling.

Yuan suddenly realized again that Clade had once been of a status she, in her former life, would never have dared to look up to. She straightened her back further, trying her best to appear dignified.

She decided, as host of this party, to pay closer attention to the guests, and scanned her surroundings.

That’s when she locked eyes directly with Regina Pelliese, her cousin, whose sharp gaze came from the far end of the table.

***

Just as Bollonico had confidently claimed, they would soon meet.

The Pelliese count’s family had been invited to the party under the status of the bride Yuan’s relatives.

Regina Pelliese couldn’t contain her racing heartbeat, nervously scanning the banquet hall.

She was filled with anticipation to meet Dreykub Treloni.

How thrilling it had been when she learned Dreykub—unaware in his dreams that the exiled prince’s new bride was the very person he had originally proposed to—had also been invited to this party!

With her parents’ discontented voices grumbling in the background—sitting as far from the emperor as possible—Regina scrutinized each person seated along the opposite side of the long table.

Then she spotted Yuan Pelliese, sitting with a tense expression.

She was putting on a stern face, but a crow remained a crow.

A pitiful soul living in a burnt-black castle with a monster husband hiding his face behind a mask.

In contrast, Regina was ready to make her dazzling debut, spreading rumors of a scandal with Dreykub Treloni, prepared to become the most radiant butterfly.

Regina approached Yuan’s seat, accompanied by Sophia Melrn, a fellow court noble who adored her.

Unlike Regina, who walked rhythmically in step with the free-spirited atmosphere of the banquet, Sophia kept shrinking behind Regina the closer they got to the rumored monster, the exiled prince.

“Where’s His ‘Exiled’ Highness? You’re here all alone?”

Clade was nearby, but surrounded by the emperor’s close retainers, receiving formal greetings.

Regina asked this with feigned calmness, though she clearly saw the situation.

Her demeanor was worlds apart from Yuan, who sat stiffly like a scarecrow propped up in a field.

“I greet you, Her Exiled Highness.”

“Pfft.”

Sophia awkwardly bowed to Yuan, and Regina covered her mouth with the back of her hand, laughing.

Sophia startled, gently tugging Regina’s sleeve.

But it was a feeble gesture, meaningless against Regina, who had come with full intent.

“You could at least introduce me, Yuan? We probably won’t meet again, but it’s good to know someone your age. This is Miss Sophia Melrn, daughter of the Melrn viscountcy. She’ll be making her debut alongside me at the palace this year. Say hello, Sophia. This is Yuan Pelliese.”

Regina was ecstatic at the thought of utterly crushing Yuan right before Sophia’s eyes.

“A cousin who ran away from home to get married and hasn’t contacted us since—such an ungrateful girl. I wonder what our parents ever did to deserve this poor cousin of ours.”