Angela chapter 20

Swish. Swish. Swish.

“Miss! Miss! Today is the day you’re going to the Imperial Palace! You need to get ready!”

Mary skillfully pulled back the curtains draped over the bedroom window, noisily announcing Angela’s morning. She secured the parted velvet curtains with ribbon ties, then gazed in satisfaction at the sunlight pouring in before approaching Angela.

Angela, who rarely slept deeply, had already opened her eyes without a single toss or turn. She was leaning against the headboard when Mary handed her a cup of lukewarm water. After taking a sip, Angela finally got out of bed.

Aside from the fact that she was going out for the first time in a long while, the start of her day was no different from usual. But perhaps she was the only one who thought so—Mary’s eyes gleamed with an unsettling intensity. Angela, sensing an inexplicable threat, frowned slightly.

“Miss, Miss! What should I do? I think I’m going blind from sheer joy!”

The dress Mary had agonized over for days was a shimmering blue gown embroidered with silver thread, its cold-toned elegance fitting perfectly with the winter season.

Clearly pleased with her own selection, Mary hopped excitedly from one side to the other, admiring Angela in the dress from every angle. Her expression wasn’t one of mere flattery—it was as if she might genuinely faint from sheer delight.

“Then I suppose this dress won’t do. If you go blind, that would be quite inconvenient for me.”

Amused by Mary’s reaction, Angela made the remark as a joke. Mary’s face instantly flushed red. Like a fire bursting to life in a hearth, the crimson hue spread across her entire face.

“T-Then, I won’t go blind after all!”

Blushing as if confessing love, Mary hurried off, saying she would fetch the accessories.

Left alone, Angela let out a short, incredulous laugh—then locked eyes with her reflection in the mirror.

Her expression stiffened.

Why am I smiling like that?

She had only laughed because Mary’s foolish behavior was ridiculous. But in the mirror, she saw a woman smiling as if she had just witnessed something utterly endearing.

Have I been making that kind of face every time I laugh at Mary?

Angela hurriedly averted her gaze from the unfamiliar woman in the mirror, her eyes wandering aimlessly through empty space.

—

Mary returned, her face still flushed, and began adorning Angela with an array of silver accessories shaped like snowflakes. She even produced two delicate, pale blue hairpins—ones Angela hadn’t even known existed—and carefully secured them on either side of her neatly arranged hair.

Over Angela’s shoulders, she draped a pure white fur cape, fastening it with an elegant brooch. With that, the dressing process was complete.

“Wow, Miss, you look like the Queen of the Snow Kingdom! No, even better—you’re far more beautiful than the Snow Queen! The most beautiful in the world! Ah, well, you always are, but still!”

Then came a barrage of praise. Mary followed closely behind Angela, showering her with endless compliments, all except for the earlier remark about going blind.

“Shh.”

Angela silenced her with a single word.

“Mary.”

“Yes?”

“Since I won’t be here today, forget everything else and just do a thorough cleaning.”

“Yes, of course! I’ll make sure there’s not a speck of dust left!”

Angela gave Mary a pointed look, gesturing for her to go.

“I just wanted to see you off first—”

Mary had been cheerfully speaking when she caught sight of Angela’s sharply furrowed brows and promptly clamped her mouth shut, looking dejected. Her pursed lips jutted out like a duck’s bill.

But there was no helping it. Outside, where the carriage sent by the Imperial Palace was waiting, the Bilton estate’s servants had gathered for Angela’s departure.

To them, Mary was still Angela’s loyal servant, complicit in tormenting Beatrice. As long as Rita’s money ensured that no new scars appeared on Mary’s body, it was best not to remind anyone of her presence.

“Then…”

Just as Angela was scowling, urging Mary to go inside, the girl hesitantly spoke up.

“Then, could you walk just a little slower? I’ll run to the balcony and see you off from there. That should be fine, right?”

Angela barely managed to suppress the smile that threatened to curl her lips. Without answering, she turned and began walking.

Her pace was leisurely, but not because of Mary’s request—Angela was naturally a slow walker. Mary, unaware of this, beamed in delight and ran off enthusiastically.

At that moment, Angela’s mood wasn’t bad at all.

But it plummeted the moment she spotted Beatrice among the servants gathered to see her off.

Beatrice was dressed in elegant outdoor attire, and Yvonne was fastening a thick fur scarf around her neck.

As Angela approached, the servants surrounding Yvonne and Beatrice awkwardly bowed one by one. Their greetings were half-hearted, a display of courtesy reduced by Yvonne’s presence.

Angela acted as if she saw nothing, accepting the royal coachman’s assistance as she boarded the carriage. The moment she sat down, she turned her gaze toward the opposite window.

So the invitation went to her as well.

Angela had wondered why Anette had summoned her to the palace. Now, she had a clear idea of what kind of picture the Empress was trying to paint.

“Have a safe trip.”

Beatrice boarded the carriage and sat across from Angela, while Yvonne stood at the door, looking at Beatrice with affectionate concern. Anyone would think they were about to be separated for a month or more.

For Angela, it was the first time facing Yvonne since the day she had been locked in the closet.

And yet, Yvonne’s warm gaze was entirely focused on Beatrice, completely overlooking the fact that Angela had collapsed again.

Angela scoffed unconsciously. Only then did Yvonne’s attention momentarily shift to her.

“You’d better behave yourself. If anything happens to Beatrice, I won’t let it slide.”

That was all she said to Angela.

Her gaze lingered on Angela for only a fleeting moment before returning to Beatrice.

“M-Mother…”

Beatrice whimpered like a frightened child, as if unaccustomed to seeing her mother act so fierce.

“It’s okay, it’s okay.”

Yvonne’s gentle, reassuring voice cooed over Beatrice like a lullaby. It wasn’t even directed at Angela, yet it rang in her ears without a barrier, making her feel unpleasant—like an eavesdropper.

“With such a devoted mother, what could possibly happen to Beatrice? Don’t worry, Mother. We’ll be careful on our way.”

“…”

“Close the door.”

Angela, her face still adorned with a sweet smile, cut off their mother-daughter moment with a chillingly calm command.

The coachman hesitated, glancing between them uncertainly. When Yvonne finally forced a smile and stepped back, he nodded in silent gratitude before closing the carriage door.

Soon, the wheels began to turn.

As the carriage jolted forward, Angela closed her eyes.

She didn’t want to look at Beatrice—the daughter who looked just like their father, the daughter showered in their mother’s love.

Beatrice, who normally recoiled at Angela’s mere presence, sat obediently without making a sound.

But Angela could still hear her small, delicate breaths.

Even that—I wish it would disappear too.

Such a petty thought, and yet, her chest ached all the same.

“This Way, Please.”

Following the guidance of a palace maid, Angela stepped into the greenhouse behind the Empress’s palace, the venue for the tea party. Upon hearing that she was free to sit wherever she pleased, she immediately walked to the seat farthest from the head of the table.

Had this been an official gathering, there would have been no reason for a lady of the Bilton family to sit in such an inconspicuous spot. However, in an informal gathering like this, seating arrangements were dictated by one’s proximity to the Empress in terms of social relationships.

There were always those who, in hopes of getting closer to the Empress, shamelessly claimed seats near her, even without assigned nameplates. But Angela saw no need for such behavior. This spot suited her just fine.

With the help of a servant who pulled out her chair, Angela took her seat at the edge of the table. She had no particular interest in exchanging pleasantries with anyone nor in admiring the scenery of the Empress’s palace. Sitting with perfect posture, she simply gazed straight ahead.

But why is she sitting here?

Angela’s expression hardened when she saw Beatrice taking a seat directly across from her. Beatrice flinched and ducked her head, her shoulders trembling.

If you’re going to act like that, why sit where I can see you?

Everyone in Phaelon—even the stray dogs—knew that the relationship between the Bilton sisters was far from harmonious.

Sitting apart wouldn’t spark gossip—everyone was already well aware of their animosity. In other words, Angela wished that the reddish tint of Beatrice’s hair, reminiscent of Dominic, and those amber eyes would vanish from her sight.

But no matter how fiercely Angela glared, Beatrice showed no intention of moving. And it wasn’t as if Angela could be the one to change seats—that would make for a far juicier rumor in high society.

“Her Majesty the Empress has arrived!”

Angela was already irritated enough by Beatrice’s presence, but now she had to suppress her discomfort as Empress Annette made her entrance.

All the noble ladies gathered in the greenhouse rose to greet her in unison.

“Thank you all for accepting my invitation. This is meant to be a casual gathering for young ladies to chat and enjoy themselves, so please, make yourselves comfortable. You may be seated.”

With those brief words of welcome, Annette took her seat at the head of the table. The rest of the ladies, including Angela, followed suit.

Once the Empress lifted her teacup for a sip, the tea party officially began.

“Your Majesty, this tea has such a unique aroma. Could it be from the Tarant Kingdom?”
“Unfortunately, no. This was sent by Count Conrad, who plans to import it soon.”
“It has an exquisite taste. Perfect for special occasions. I must purchase some once it becomes available.”
“I’ll serve the Tarant Kingdom’s tea another time. I hope you’ll enjoy that as well.”
“Speaking of the Tarant Kingdom, did you know, Your Majesty? Learning their language has become a trend among noble ladies lately.”
“Oh my, really? That must be quite challenging.”
“Since Your Majesty speaks Phaelon’s language so flawlessly, we must strive harder as well.”
“Haha, I’m flattered just hearing that.”

Although Annette encouraged an open discussion, all conversations inevitably revolved around her.

It was a sight unimaginable when she had first become Empress.

Angela observed this with quiet indifference before lifting her teacup. The rich aroma was accompanied by a faintly astringent aftertaste—an appealing characteristic.

Count Conrad truly has a knack for business.

Just as she was setting her cup down, as if waiting for that very moment, someone called out her name.

“Ah, Lady Bilton.”

Angela’s gaze moved slowly.

At the end of it sat a young lady from the Materson family, whose temperament was said to rival Angela’s in terms of sharpness.

“Ah… Lady Ma… Materson?”

They had only exchanged names, yet Materson’s face flushed as if she had been burned. It was because Angela deliberately acted as if she wasn’t entirely sure who she was.

The atmosphere grew icy, as if cold water had been poured over the gathering.

Of course, Materson hadn’t called out to Angela just to exchange pleasantries.

Eyes filled with both curiosity and concern turned toward the two women, waiting to see what would unfold.

After struggling to suppress the redness in her face, Materson finally spoke.

“I heard you were recently punished by your governess. Are you feeling better? I heard you even collapsed, and everyone has been terribly worried about you.”

Materson feigned concern, her lips curling downward as if she truly regretted hearing such news. But the mockery in her tone was unmistakable.

It was those seated nearby who grew tense at the remark.

At the mention of their mother, Beatrice’s face went pale, as if she might faint on the spot.

Angela, on the other hand, was the only one who smiled.

“You seem to be mistaken.”

She replied with a light, airy chuckle.

“So… you mean the rumors… aren’t true?”
“Yes, they aren’t.”
“T-That… that can’t be…”

The story had spread within the Bilton estate and beyond—practically everyone knew about it.

Yet here Angela was, outright denying it.

Materson faltered, stammering in confusion.

She couldn’t exactly call Angela a liar, not in front of the Empress.

As Materson hesitated, wondering how to strike back at Angela’s composed demeanor, Angela’s elegant voice rang out again.

“It wasn’t my governess.”

Her tone was poised, deliberate.

“I was punished by my mother.”

And with that, Angela smiled radiantly—so dazzlingly bright, it could have lit up the entire world.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ✧: *. ꕥ .* :✧ﾟ. ───