Queen of Revenge - Chapter 8

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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Chapter 8
From within the chamber, I could hear the Crown Princess moving about. The rustle of fabric echoed softly against the walls.
After some time had passed, the door cracked open just a sliver.
“Come in, Perein. I have something to ask you.”
Once again, I hesitated at the threshold, though my reluctance was shorter-lived than yesterday.
As Lucian stepped into the bedroom, he faltered at the sight of the Crown Princess’s transformed appearance.
Iolet, now dressed in a pristine white gown, gazed up at him intently.
“Does it suit me?”
“Yes, Your Highness. It is beautiful—.”
Lucian began his reflexive response before catching himself. As Iolet turned halfway before the mirror, her luminous golden hair swayed, revealing her back.
“…indeed.”
Several buttons running down her delicate spine remained unfastened. It was evident she had struggled to fasten them all by herself.
Through the gap, glimpses of her pristine pale skin drew his gaze inevitably. It was a matter of instinct.
Iolet smiled faintly.
“You lack candor, Perein. Do you truly think this suits me so well?”
“…!”
Lucian hastily averted his eyes. For a moment, caught in his impertinent gaze, his ears burned with heat.
Strictly speaking, the dress itself did not suit Iolet particularly well.
The gown was far too voluminous for her slender frame. The pristine white fabric rendered her complexion even more pallid.
Yet her natural beauty was so exceptional that such flaws scarcely registered as imperfections.
“Forgive me. But it is not a falsehood.”
“Is that so? Enough to captivate any man at first glance?”
She would likely ensnare not only respectable men but even trivial fools. Lucian suppressed this thought and asked instead, “Why does such a thing concern you?”
“Why does such a thing concern you?”
Rather than answer, Iolet grasped the hem of her dress and studied her reflection in the mirror.
“This is the first gift Catherine gave me. She presented it for me to wear at my wedding. It should be suitable for the gala.”
“Will you attend the Foundation Day Festival gala?”
“Many envoys who came to witness my wedding will be there. And it will be my last event before I am cast out.”
Indeed, that day was originally meant to be Iolet’s wedding day. All Lucian had been informed of was that the wedding had been cancelled and the Foundation Day Festival opening ceremony and welcoming ball had been moved forward.
He had never received an order forbidding the Crown Princess from attending the gala.
Iolet murmured with deliberate significance.
“I will be the center of attention at that gala. Just as it was always meant to be.”
It was a bold statement, though hardly grounded in reality.
Lucian regarded it with skepticism.
Catherine, the Crown Princess, was unquestionably the pillar of Elovis nobility and the queen of high society.
With her beautiful countenance, eloquent manner of speech, and charisma that captivated crowds, she possessed every quality of a worthy sovereign.
By comparison, Crown Princess Iolet was far too fragile.
Her lustrous golden hair and delicate features were certainly beautiful. Yet rather than a sovereign to trust and follow, she resembled a single flower requiring gentle care and protection.
Lucian’s gaze returned to the Crown Princess’s incompletely fastened back. His hand moved impulsively, trembling as his fingertips hovered near the unfastened buttons.
“…Are you truly certain you wish to wear this dress?”
Iolet shrugged her shoulders.
“There are no other suitable dresses.”
Everything in the wardrobe was either scandalously low-cut at the chest and back or clung to every curve of her body—all gifts from Catherine, which she had torn to shreds the night before.
“A wedding dress when the ceremony has been cancelled might look ridiculous, but that’s not necessarily the only consideration.”
What Iolet desperately needed right now was a powerful presence.
‘I must show this entire kingdom that there is a princess named me in this palace. The Foundation Day Festival banquet is the perfect stage for it.’
My mother, Charlotte, had once sat me on her lap and taught me various things with affectionate words.
“In high society, clothing is not merely something that makes you beautiful and presentable. It is a certificate that guarantees your status and a political declaration. Without saying a word, you can show whose side you’re on, what you intend to do, and why you’ve come to this gathering. It can be a weapon to threaten your rivals or bait to draw in your allies.”
Iolet’s eyes, reflected in the mirror, grew sharp and clear.
In truth, I had already made a plan from the beginning. I already knew those who were more knowledgeable and capable than anyone when it came to clothing in noble society.
‘If I could bring in “that child” with this opportunity, it would be perfect, but the problem is how cooperative this person will be….’
Iolet glanced sideways at the silent knight.
The only person who could move freely in and out of the Royal Palace while following my orders without arousing Catherine’s suspicion.
Yesterday, I had gambled by casting him as a potential scoundrel instead.
It would be enough if he felt even a slight guilt or pity toward me, but seeing him cross the threshold without hesitation today, unlike yesterday, suggested the gambit might be working.
Then let me wager once more. After all, my life in this world has been nothing but a series of gambles.
“Perein. I need you to run an errand.”
* * *
In the Western Plaza District of Delpain, the capital of the Elovis Kingdom, high-end wardrobe shops and jewelers clustered together.
Among the trading houses working day and night to meet the Foundation Day Festival deadline, one shop stood out for its remarkable leisure.
[Canzail Dye Company]
The owners of the Canzail Company, who had worked diligently and finished their deadline early, were enjoying a long-awaited rest. An unexpected knock on the door at the crack of dawn was not part of their plan.
“Who is it?”
Logan Canzail, the owner of the Canzail Dye Company, opened the door with sleep still clouding his face.
“I apologize, but we’re closed for a week starting today… Huh.”
A tall, handsome man in a Royal Guard Knights uniform stood at the door. Sleep vanished from his eyes instantly.
“I’ve come on behalf of someone of high standing. Are you the dye artisan Canzail?”
“Ah, yes. I am Canzail, but Your Highness, what brings you to a place like this? If this is an errand, whose…?”
“Please accept this first.”
The knight abruptly thrust a letter and a bundled package into Canzail’s hands. His expression was blank, but his steady gaze was piercing.
“I’ll return in two days.”
The knight vanished without another word.
Logan Canzail stood blinking vacantly.
His wife, who had emerged from the dye warehouse, asked him a question.
“What’s wrong, dear?”
“The Royal Family… sent someone.”
Agnes, the Canzail wife with a round face and round eyes that were quite charming, covered her mouth with her hand.
“Don’t tell me that crazy Crown Princess sent this person?”
Her temperament was far less round than her appearance.
“Please, dear… He was wearing a Royal Guard Knights uniform.”
“He’s obviously just an apprentice knight running errands—what’s there to fear! I should have dumped ink all over him!”
Agnes was practically vibrating with rage.
Once upon a time, the couple had been master craftsmen working in the Wardrobe Room of the Elovis Royal Family.
Eighteen years ago, they had been particularly favored by the second queen who came as a bride from the Levia Kingdom.
They were the only ones who handled the dyes commonly used in Levia fashion.
However, after the queen became embroiled in an inappropriate scandal involving a Guard Knight, the Canzail Couple lost their standing and were cast out from the Royal Palace.
Fortunately, dyes were an indispensable commodity in nobility society, so they had means to survive.
The Canzail Couple opened a Dye Trading House and supplied the market with all manner of rare dyes imported from abroad. Since their primary clientele were Fabric Trading Houses and Wardrobe Rooms rather than nobility, their comeback was not difficult.
Thus ten years had slipped away.
Now, few remembered that the Canzail Couple had once been Charlotte’s closest confidants.
They had accumulated wealth rivaling that of any minor noble house. Yet the resentment of ten years still festered in their hearts.
Agnes in particular shuddered at the mere mention of Crown Princess Catherine.
“After what she did to the queen, how dare she show her face to us?! How could she pin such an absurd accusation on someone so virtuous! And to send even that honest Perkins to the gallows…! That wretched woman deserves to have her veins dyed with cyanide!”
“Dear, someone might hear us… Let’s at least open it. We need to know who sent this.”
Logan wiped sweat from his brow as he tried to placate his wife.
Agnes reluctantly examined the package.
Inside the box lay an exquisite wedding dress. The fabric slipped through her fingertips with a sensation that spoke of extraordinary quality.
“Well, the material is top-grade. It would dye beautifully… Hmm? What’s this?”
Something fell from between the dress’s ruffles. It was a thin silk handkerchief.
The moment Agnes saw its peculiar hue, her eyes widened in astonishment.
“… Darling. Didn’t you say a letter came with this earlier?”
“Yes, dear. It’s right here.”
Logan unfolded the letter that had arrived with the dress box.
Agnes read through the words in one breath.
Her mouth fell open.
“Good heavens, this is…!”

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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