Chapter 65
The Red Dress
Celestian grabbed Psyche by the shoulders and pushed her away.
Then, he glanced toward where Psyche had been looking. Daphne was nowhere to be seen.
“Hah.”
Clenching his teeth, Celestian narrowed his eyes as he glared down at the selfish woman before him.
“Are you playing games with me?”
“You’re overly delusional. I’m far too busy for that.”
Psyche responded calmly, taking a few steps back as if she had accomplished her purpose.
Above Celestian, the misty drizzle fell steadily, quickly forming rivulets that trickled down his cheeks. Psyche gripped the handle of her umbrella, fidgeting slightly, as if waiting for something.
‘What is she doing?’
After about a minute, Psyche exhaled a long sigh, her brows furrowing as if displeased.
“It annoys me that Daphne seems to care about you more than I thought.”
“Care about me?”
Celestian frowned.
“The Daphne I know would’ve come straight here. But the fact that my friend chose to leave instead…”
Psyche pressed her lips tightly together, unwilling to finish her sentence.
“Forget it. There’s no point trying to explain this to someone as clueless as you.”
“Are we even speaking the same language? Say something that actually makes sense.”
“Maybe if you got on your knees and begged, I’d consider explaining.”
Celestian didn’t reply, only raising his left eyebrow. A tense silence stretched between them.
Psyche, unsurprised by his reaction, stepped aside gracefully.
“Well, I’ll be off to see Daphne now. I wouldn’t want her to get the wrong idea.”
She turned and leisurely walked down the path at two o’clock among the five branching paths of the maze.
Left alone, Celestian had a sinking feeling. He was certain he’d have to return to that ridiculous excuse for a prison.
Looking up at the second floor again, he noticed that, apart from one window, every vantage point was occupied by the Crown Princess’s knights, all watching his every move.
Celestian ran a frustrated hand through his hair, roughly tousling the back of his head.
****
During the reign of the previous queen, grand balls were often held at Pladial.
The king, fond of leisure, and the queen, who often felt lonely, regularly invited people for nights of music, dance, and indulgence.
Extravagant, extravagant, and more extravagant parties.
But after her passing, such festivities vanished. Aside from the annual Founding Festival, the royal palace of Secradion became a desolate place year-round.
“Red dress? Are they kidding me?”
The dress prepared for Daphne by the palace was as ostentatious as could be: a garish red gown adorned with ruby embellishments—exactly the kind of thing Daphne hated.
“Hah.”
Faced with such a dress, Daphne expressed her preference to either attend in a plain suit or skip the event altogether and head home. However, Ismel brushed her objections aside with a single word: “Orders.”
‘Whose orders, exactly?’
The urge to rebel and storm out was strong. Hadn’t she endured enough indignities since arriving at this cursed Pladial?
‘Celestian Theriosa…’
The image of that golden-haired back, with its infuriatingly unreadable expression, came to mind, making her blood boil. Daphne raised her hands to mess up her hair but stopped, remembering the careful work the maids had put into styling it.
As Daphne stood alone in the corridor, passing guests shot her judgmental looks. Everyone else had arrived with a partner, leaving her conspicuously out of place, almost wishing she could crawl into some familiar hidey-hole.
‘I was told to wait here, so what else can I do?’
But this was the royal palace, the pinnacle of authority. And for Daphne, in her current precarious position, “orders” carried immense weight.
“Lady Beaucater, it’s been a while. I’m Loren Delphinium from Ladies Weekly.”
The first to address Daphne was a familiar face: the chief journalist of the kingdom’s premier gossip tabloid, whose weekly delivery she eagerly anticipated.
“Lady Delphinium, it has been a while.”
“Daph, did you come alone? Where’s Celestian Theriosa?”
“He’s—”
“Ah, probably locked away in some dungeon of the palace, right? Is that why you look so pale today? Oh, dear! I think I’ve said too much. My apologies.”
Delphinium handled the conversation entirely on her own, not even waiting for Daphne’s reply before spinning on her heel and entering the ballroom.
‘Ugh, seriously.’
For a moment, Daphne considered chasing after her and slapping that smug back of hers. But she let it go.
Ladies Weekly, the B-tier tabloid that practically ruled over the continent’s gossip, had never been fond of royalty or nobility.
Not long ago, it had refused to defend Celestian, even after Daphne paid them to write an article in his favor, following his anti-monarchy crusade.
‘Now Delphinium is probably all-in for the Crown Princess.’
The publication had long glorified the “commoner-turned-heroine” narrative, lavishing praise on Psyche.
It wasn’t hard to imagine the scandal Daphne’s appearance in such an over-the-top dress might spark across the kingdom.
‘Ugh, maybe I should’ve just gone ahead and become queen after all.’
The judgmental stares, the scrutiny—Daphne hated it all. She’d grown up under such treatment, and no one had the right to look at her like that.
Unfortunately, this was the perfect moment for Amber Green’s words about giving up too much for a man who didn’t even care for her to echo in her mind.
‘That stupid back of his. If only I could’ve seen his face. Did he smile? Did he gloat?’
Daphne felt a wave of dizziness and wobbled slightly. Warm hands firmly gripped her arms to steady her.
“Daphne, are you alright? Have you been waiting long?”
“Oh.”
Turning around, she found Psyche gazing down at her with a concerned expression.
‘Why does she seem taller?’
Daphne glanced at Psyche’s feet, but her shoes were hidden beneath her dress.
“It took a little longer to get ready. This is my first official party as Crown Princess, after all.”
Psyche smiled shyly, a soft glow surrounding her, and Daphne closed her eyes for a moment.
“Are you okay?”
Psyche’s dress, though simple, was stunning, and the small tiara she wore added a perfect touch. Faced with her friend’s radiant appearance, Daphne hesitated, then blurted out, “You’re messing with me on purpose, aren’t you?”
What she’d meant to say was, “You look beautiful as always.” But her frazzled state betrayed her thoughts.
“Sorry, what?”
“Oh, what did I just say?”
Psyche’s sapphire eyes were wide with surprise.
“I misspoke. I meant to say you look gorgeous as always. My condition isn’t great today. Should I be addressing you formally now, Your Highness?”
Daphne fumbled to cover her slip. For someone as sharp-tongued as her, this wasn’t entirely unusual, but today, her face flushed hotter than ever.
She sneaked a glance at Psyche.
Daphne wanted to ask, Why was he with you? But now wasn’t the time, not with so many ears around.
‘And I’m really not feeling well.’
As Daphne fanned herself, Psyche’s expression grew even more worried. At her gesture, a maid quickly handed her a folding fan.
“The weather’s grown warm, hasn’t it? And the rain’s made it so humid. I thought about postponing, but today seemed like the right day.”
Psyche moved to fan Daphne herself.
“What are you doing?”
Startled, Daphne grabbed Psyche’s wrist. The fan slipped to the ground. Quickly scanning the room, she saw that a few pairs of rabbit-like eyes had turned their way.
“Your Highness, I’m fine. But thank you for your kindness.”
Bending down to pick up the fan, Daphne felt the weight of someone’s gaze on the crown of her head. She straightened abruptly, her vision blurring slightly.
Psyche still looked at her from slightly above—was she wearing heels? But even with heels, she would be shorter than Celestian, who could probably envelop her in his arms.
‘God, this is too much.’
Daphne fought the ridiculous urge to collapse into Psyche’s arms and profusely thank her just to lighten the mood. After all, her friend was now the most noble woman in the kingdom.
Meanwhile, Daphne was…
“Didn’t she swear never to set foot in the palace again after her engagement was called off?”
“Was her invitation legitimate? She even showed up at the royal wedding. And on the gallows…”
“They should investigate the Beaucater family…”
“Who knows what she might do next…”
She was the woman who had endured such whispers for two years now.
“This dress is far too extravagant,” she muttered.
Every unintentional act was scrutinized. Every spotlight was unnecessary and unwelcome.
The gentle piano melody wafting through the ballroom reminded her of amusement park music, calm and serene. Yet to Daphne, every voice sounded like horror.
More than fear, it was the creeping sense of déjà vu that climbed up her spine, making her feel sick.
Psyche hovered anxiously by her side but eventually left when summoned by others.
The banquet began in earnest as trays of finger foods were brought in. Psyche, standing at the top of the stairs, surveyed the hall with a satisfied expression.
‘My head hurts.’
Even though she hadn’t been in the rain, Daphne shivered. Her senses felt heightened, and the smell of food made her stomach churn.
Just then, Delphinium appeared at her side, carrying a plate piled high with meat.
“You look thinner these days, Daphne. It must be hard with your lover locked away in a place like that…”
“Ugh.”
The smell of the meat hit her like a wave, and she gagged.
Every eye in the hall turned toward her.
‘What?’
Daphne raised a hand, trying to push the plate away. But the smell lingered, suffocating her.
“Ugh.”
“Oh my, Daphne! Are you okay?”
“The smell. Please, just take the meat away.”
“Meat? Why?”
Delphinium’s eyes sparkled like she’d stumbled upon the scoop of the century, staring at Daphne’s pale face with exaggerated concern.
Gagging again, Daphne stumbled out of the hall, seeking refuge in the damp scent of the rain-soaked earth.
“Daphne, are you…?”
“Good grief, why are you following me?”
Delphinium lowered her voice.
“I thought I should congratulate you.”
Frowning, Daphne asked, “Congratulate me for what?”
Delphinium leaned closer, her hand brushing Daphne’s back with a mix of worry and something else entirely. Daphne stepped back, uneasy.
“Don’t say anything. This sister of yours knows everything.”
“What?”
Delphinium smelled faintly of alcohol now, and Daphne briefly wondered if journalists were allowed to drink on the job. But it wasn’t her concern, so she let it go.
Still, the scent made her nauseous, and she couldn’t help gagging again.
“Ugh.”
Delphinium jumped back, startled, her neat bob swaying.
“Oh dear, it’s my perfume, isn’t it? I’m so sorry.”
Her exaggerated reactions felt like something out of a musical, leaving Daphne bewildered.
“Delphinium, what are you even talking about?”
Reaching out to stop her, Daphne’s hand missed.
“I know everything, so don’t worry about a thing.”
“Excuse me?”
For a moment, Daphne wondered if Delphinium was referring to her dietary preferences.
“Not that it matters, but honestly…”
Delphinium stepped back, almost dancing away.
“Congratulations again! And don’t worry—I’ll take care of everything.”
After gesturing vaguely, pressing her temple, then her forehead, Delphinium hurried off toward somewhere other than the ballroom. Likely heading for her carriage.
“Take care of what?”
Left alone, Daphne felt as if a whirlwind had just passed. Delphinium’s theatrical antics had momentarily erased the stress from earlier in the evening.
“Seriously, what…?”
