“Please wake up.”
Cecile arose from her deep slumber.
‘It’s morning.’
Although it wasn’t a second after she lifted her eyelids that Cecile sought the shelter of her arms.
This was an action taken to prevent anyone from witnessing her face, severely contorted in pain.
In fact, every morning she was forced to endure persistent headaches, the intensity of which transcended mere discomfort, to the point where her eyes turned entirely white.
The issue was that no one, aside from Cecile herself, was aware of this reality.
Her maids, assistants; hell, even her parents, who had remained by Cecile’s side throughout her years.
Their knowledge was limited to her significantly low blood pressure. The reasons for her frequent stumbling, pathetic bodily strength, and constant morning challenges were only evident, but there was more to it than met the eye.
Cecile suffered from chronic headaches and various other illnesses, which left her physically weak.
Despite this, she never displayed her struggles, and today was no exception. Cecile sat up as if nothing was wrong.
However, even the basic action of leaning against the bed induced dizziness in both her mind and body. To regain her balance, Cecile pressed her upper body against the edge of the bed.
The maids, as per their usual routine, prepared the Empress a basin of water, assuming her fatigue was simply due to the early rising.
Cecile peered at the basin with blurred vision; her eyesight was distorted, hindered by the lingering dizziness.
Her lightheadedness had yet to subside.
“Shall we begin by washing your face?”
She lacked even the energy to respond.
Cecile clenched her teeth, biting into the flesh of her mouth to regain her composure, and then silently nodded in agreement.
Upon granting permission, Cecile’s maids picked up the soft towels and delicately wiped her face. The touch of the warm, damp cloth provided immediate relief from her discomfort.
The process of washing her face concluded swiftly, prompting the maids to start bustling about, arranging the canopy over the bed. Woolen indoor slippers were neatly positioned upon the soft carpet, though even these remained hazy to Cecile’s vision.
As she focused on the blurry white objects, Cecile let out a soft exhale, feeling a sense of vertigo.
‘I’m still feeling a bit oozy,’ she acknowledged internally. However, prolonging this state would surely raise suspicion amongst the maids.
Taking a moment to compose herself, Cecile planted her feet against the floor, stumbling slightly but quickly regaining her balance. She proceeded towards the dressing room, where the maids began applying her makeup. This was only the beginning.
The maids snugly secured Cecile’s figure with a tight corset, and the intricate process of donning a neck-breaking headdress and an elegant royal court dress unfolded for hours.
She was slowly reaching her limit. Cecile tightly gripped her skirt in discomfort.
‘This is difficult.’
She broke into a cold sweat. Dame Teresa, her assigned knight, observed the gradual paling of her master’s complexion and voiced concern.
“You don’t appear well.”
“It must be because I started dieting right away,” Cecile responded, maintaining a flawlessly composed expression. Her lips even curved into a slight smile.
Regardless of the extent of her discomfort, the utmost priority for Cecile was to keep her illness completely hidden.
‘No one should know.’
It was Cecile’s secret that she was currently unwell. She couldn’t afford to be examined by Dr. Laura, not even for a minor illness.
It was evident that undergoing such scrutiny would jeopardize her position and the fragile support she had managed to secure.
You are our family’s only hope.
Cecile painfully understood the weight of those words. In her youth, she witnessed firsthand the consequences that befell families within the empire’s watchful eyes.
Necessities like food and clothing vanishing in the blink of an eye. Workers pilfering their valuables and fleeing, turning the once well-kept garden into a haunting spectacle.
Even during the winter, they found themselves hand-washing spare clothing with freezing water and scraping together a scant piece of bread to ration among the family.
Their extreme hunger and poverty stemmed from one decision – refusing to send seven-year-old Cecile to the imperial palace in compliance with a royal order.
My daughter is only seven years old.
Wasn’t that the case? We are aware.
The family faced isolation from the imperial court. At one point, they likely acknowledged Cecile would be sent away eventually.
Her family endured 6 months of confinement, until, unable to hold on any longer, parted ways with their young and fragile daughter.
We are so sorry. But there is nothing more we can do.
Cecile harbored no resentment towards her family. Even at the mere age of seven, she struggled but understood.
Her tutor constantly scrutinized her every movement, the maids reported on her daily activities, and the vast, solitary room was both unfamiliar and intimidating.
Trembling in fear of the overbearing shadows during the night, living in a constant flurry of work during the day, emotions pent up on the verge of explosion, but she couldn’t express them.
At the tender age of seven, she was told that, as a member of the imperial family, displaying any sort of emotion on her face was forbidden.
The rigorous education proved too harsh for a young girl, but she had no choice.
Cecile had to endure the scrutiny and criticism that followed any lapse in her emotional control.
For over ten years.
Before she realized it, Cecile had become an adult, and thus preparations for her marriage swiftly ensued.
The Emperor had succumbed to his terminal illness, leading to his anti-climatic passing.
Despite the misfortune, the Crown Prince steadily carried on the responsibilities of ascending the throne.
She was expected to assist Queen Dowager’s son, who had ascended the throne, as a woman blessed by the gods of Serendi.
That was Cecile.
Cecile was part of a family dedicated to preserving the longstanding tradition of the imperial family. They underwent strict scrutiny from the imperial court, ensuring that none of her maternal relatives posed any threat to the stability of the imperial throne.
While the Ducal family boasted a commendable reputation, their status was primarily elevated due to their production of saints. In reality, they were a superficial family incapable of making strides in politics or achieving economic independence.
Because of the largely hindered constraints imposed by the imperial family.
Their ducal title was simply conferred upon with the specific purpose of having a woman of suitable status for an empress. Their intention was never to share any power.
The imperial family meticulously monitored the Serandite Ducal family, implementing strict controls to prevent them from meeting others or forwarding any independent purchases.
Eventually, even Cecile’s family found themselves imprisoned in the castle. The imperial authority orchestrated a situation where nothing could be accomplished without their support, effectively using this control as a leash to threaten Cecile.
You have to do well so your family doesn’t starve.
The only hope for such a miserable family was Cecile. So how could she possibly come forward with her illness?
Cecile dreaded the unknown consequences that might follow revealing her sickness.
‘Let’s hold on just a little longer.’
She clenched her fists so tightly that her fingernails dug into her palms.
Cecile grit her teeth. She felt as if her upright posture would crumble at any given moment, and she would lose consciousness.
Just then, one of her maids entered and quietly delivered a message.
“The Empress wishes to see you.”
Cecile nodded her head in silence, frowning slightly as the maid left her spot.
She had already anticipated what the Queen Dowager would have to say.
The previous night, the Emperor did not retire to bed, prompting the inevitable question as to why Cecile spent the night alone on the day of their anniversary.
To Cecile’s dismay, she had been present in the bedroom all night long. It was he who did not appear.
After their marriage, the Emperor rarely acknowledged Cecile’s existence outside of official events.
‘Why don’t you reprimand him?’
It was certainly unfair, but she couldn’t voice her complaints.
While she kept quiet, a sudden commotion erupted outside.
In due course, the door swung open, and the familiar fragrance of artificial roses reached her nose.
“Why are you making such a fuss!”
A shrill voice rang out. She could tell without looking. It was the Queen Dowager.
She swung the door open and entered without bothering to knock. Despite her impoliteness, she maintained her proud posture and showed no signs of lowering her head.
The Empress scrutinized Cecile from head to toe. Before long, a chilled voice pierced Cecile’s ears sharply.
“The Empress cannot even perform her basic duties as a wife. Are you not embarrassed to raise your head?”
“…Your majesty.”
“How can she remain so oblivious to her husband’s sentiments? If she doesn’t conduct herself appropriately and fails to captivate his love, some may consider approaching and seizing her place.”
“Your Majesty the Queen Dowager.”
“Unless you wish to lead a leisurely life and find yourself confined to a cold palace at an old age.”
“Your majesty!”
Cecile’s voice elevated, indicating her exhaustion from the ensuing conversation.
Nevertheless, the Queen Dowager remained steadfast.
Instead, she just glared at Cecile disapprovingly and continued her hate speech.
“Who is currently managing the household? Unable to properly handle any task and constantly upsetting her mother-in-law… Make sure to reflect.”
It was a refrain Cecile had become accustomed to, yet her fingertips trembled. She clutched the hem of her skirt to conceal any weakness, but the Queen Dowager’s reprimands seemed never-ending.
She delivered her final warning, an intense fire in her eyes.
“A sacred lady? Don’t be mistaken. Legitimacy is crucial; you were brought in as the Empress, but if you fail to bear a child, it’s over. One year. If there is no news within that time, be prepared to be tossed aside to the rear palace without mercy.”
The Empress shut the door and left. Cecile gazed at the closed entrance in despair.
Meanwhile, the scent of death suddenly emanated from within. Shortly after, blood began to trickle from her mouth.
It was lifeless, a deep crimson hue.
However, Cecile’s eyes showed no signs of agitation as she observed her current state.
She simply hid the blood-stained handkerchief in her sleeve and proceeded to speak in a calm manner.
“I heard the Emperor has time today?”
“That…”
“He probably can’t find the time to share lunch.”
“I apologize… That’s right.”
The maid obediently lowered her head. Cecile’s long eyelashes drooped as she gazed at the sight.
“I see.”
Her voice was calm, with a hint of resignation. After all, it was no surprise.
She took a sip of the tea in front of her, and a sudden chill hit her body.
She felt cold.
Her entire body. The bones encasing her form. A segment of her heart, buried even deeper than she realized.
It felt hollow and cold.
‘Why is my body shaking so much?’
She was perplexed, but her countenance revealed nothing.
An elegant, beautiful, yet lifeless visage, devoid of emotional fluctuations.
With that expression, Cecile rose to her feet. And then, she collapsed.
How laughable. That marked the end of Cecile’s existence, one that had endured such a wretched life.
Note: We are going to assume that this chapter is taking place 1 year after her enthronement for clear purposes.
