Sister-in-law of the Heroine in a Childcare Novel - Chapter 17

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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 17

“Come here, Titania.”
“Father—no, Your Majesty! It is an honor to receive you!”
I twisted my body with exaggerated, childish delight, the sort of artless princess who craved her emperor’s affection, and moved slowly toward the vast dining table.
The table was enormous, stretching nearly halfway down the great hall. As I’d expected, nearly all the imperial family had gathered.
The Emperor sat at the head seat, with the Empress Consort and Empress on either side. Next to them sat the First Prince and Second Prince respectively….
Or so it seemed.
The First Prince hadn’t arrived yet.
Even having rushed here in the shortest time I could manage to dress, I was still later than the Emperor—a situation that should have earned me a reprimand.
But it wasn’t yet six o’clock, and seeing the Emperor greet me with such a ‘magnanimous’ demeanor, I doubted I’d face one.
In fact, since the First Prince still hadn’t arrived, if he scolded me he’d have to scold that bastard too, so it was more like he was letting it slide.
I took my seat at the single empty chair positioned off to the side, reserved for me alone.
It was ostensibly the seat of the Empress Consort Elaine, who refused to leave her palace on the pretext of illness….
Everyone at this table knew she wouldn’t be coming.
This meaningless ritual repeated itself at nearly every imperial family meal, all because of the Emperor’s face-saving remark: ‘If we remove the chair of someone who isn’t here, wouldn’t it look too heartless?’
Truly a remark befitting an emperor.
One who doesn’t genuinely care for anyone, nor truly worries about them.
Who merely fears that appearing to ignore someone will make him seem petty and narrow-minded.
Who merely wants to hear people say, ‘How gracious—His Majesty remembers even those absent. Truly, a sage ruler.’
“Hah! Cold formality, calling me ‘Your Majesty.’ Have you recovered so much you’ve grown wiser? Just call me Father, as you always did. We’re family—what does it matter?”
“Yes, yes, Father!”
I set down the water glass I’d been about to drink from and let out an excited cry as though I couldn’t help myself.
Maintaining the high-pitched enthusiasm of a thrilled young girl teetering on the edge of squealing is harder than it sounds.
But as far as words go—whether “Father,” “Dad,” or anything else—what does it matter?
That irresponsible imperial bastard.
‘Have you recovered so much you’ve grown wiser?’ Indeed—when Titania was hovering at death’s door, he paid her barely any mind. Never once came to visit.
And this is what he says to his daughter as she awakens from the brink of death.
Not that I hadn’t expected it.
The Emperor treated Titania like a pet.
A young, beautiful child who could serve as a bridge between the Imperial Family and the Castrain Ducal House, circling around him begging “Father, father,” desperate for his affection.
He tosses out a few honeyed words now and then, finds her cute when it suits him, but never takes real responsibility for her or thinks seriously about her welfare.
If she were to demand his attention urgently or soil his space, he’d recoil in horror, hand her off to someone else, and have them beaten into submission without mercy.
If she died, he’d simply hurry to find a replacement.
“You’ve been quite ill, I hear, yet your face remains unblemished—a relief. Tell me, Princess Titania, I heard there was quite an incident in the palace yesterday?”
Empress Consort Cleo spoke while picking at the pre-meal salad, her heavy words directed not at me directly but unmistakably meant for my ears.
Though she’d dressed more conservatively than usual for the family meal, the “Ocean of Stars” jewel still pinned in her upswept hair made her intention clear—to needle the Empress.
The look in her eyes as she turned them toward me was particularly loaded with meaning.
Right. The fact that Empress Consort Cleo came to my chambers yesterday and comforted me, gave me that sword—none of that officially happened. Correct?
Which means when the Consecration Ceremony comes up, I should act ‘voluntarily’ to volunteer myself, without dragging Empress Consort Cleo into it. That’s what she’s saying?
I bowed my head deeply as though struck by guilt.
Even if I played ignorant, everyone seated at this table would know what had happened in my chambers yesterday.
Just look at the Empress, who hasn’t spoken a word to me, and the Second Prince beside her, quietly sipping water.
The Empress, as always, ignored Empress Consort Cleo’s self-regard and the Emperor’s subtle favoritism toward her, offering them not even a glance.
But the Second Prince was different.
Though he wore an expression of disinterest, his eyes were in constant motion, observing the situation intently.
Oh. Our eyes met.
I stiffened my pale green eyes in mock surprise and, trembling my hands as though I couldn’t bear it any longer, cried out.
Damn it. Now that I’ve recalled my Previous Life, all I have is my acting ability.
“Your Majesty, Your Majesty! That madman from the Castrain household—I mean, Lisianthus himself insulted me!”
One of the Emperor’s eyebrows twitched. Empress Consort Cleo, her words essentially ignored, wore an almost pleased expression.
Of course she did—she’d practically lit the fuse on Titania’s rage with a comment designed to set her off immediately.
If the short-tempered, short-sighted Titania had simply handed over the Legendary Sword to Raymond to smooth things over quickly, it would’ve posed a real problem for her as Empress Consort.
Not that she actually believed a single sword would improve relations between Titania and Raymond.
But instead, Lisianthus and I had gotten into a terrible fight.
Was she supposed to overlook the fact that we’d clashed badly, despite having to consider her betrothed’s dignity?
If Titania were the type to manage that…
…she wouldn’t have ended up here in the first place.
Besides, Lisianthus had always been a figure who stoked Titania’s inferiority complex.
Whenever they clashed, Raymond always took his side.
So the original foolish Titania would have made things difficult for the Emperor by now.
She’d have demanded his head for daring to insult her precious father, called for his arms to be severed, spouted every kind of nonsense.
Of course, that would be a shallow move.
The Emperor would genuinely have preferred to laugh it off here and be done with it.
“But I went to such effort to prepare tea and refreshments so earnestly!”
I had to cry.
I had to.
When was the saddest moment of my life?
After waiting nearly ten years, the final installment of the film series I’d been counting on—my magnum opus—got bogged down due to a production company merger and became a legendary disaster in film history.
I’d taken time off work and gone to see the early showing, and I cried bitterly on the way out, tossing away the popcorn and cola I hadn’t even touched.
Or when I was hospitalized with severe food poisoning, survived on IV drips and thin rice porridge, finally discharged, rushed to my favorite tteokbokki restaurant, only to find a “Closed Today” sign on the door?
No!
It was this—when I suddenly woke up to find myself playing my second playthrough as a princess on hardcore difficulty with negative luck!
“Sob—sniff—they say Rose Palace has such narrow hospitality! That the Flame I could manifest through the Legendary Sword is pathetic! That—that since I’m the one who came from there, the facilities of Rose Palace are as shabby as a mousetrap, so it wouldn’t even be a loss to burn this pathetic thing down…!”
The Emperor’s expression changed. The Empress Consort’s expression changed too.
As for the Empress… her eyes shifted slightly, as if to say, ‘I told you so?’
The attendants and servants would obviously know that Lisianthus and I had gotten into a severe fight, hurling curses at each other.
But honestly, against an opponent like the Castrain family, such petty insults wouldn’t escalate matters.
The only thing worth taking issue with was tangible, demonstrable ‘damage.’
Exactly.
That bastard had set a fire. Moreover, he’d picked a quarrel with the Rose Palace itself—the very Imperial Palace’s facilities.
Called it shabby!
No matter how poorly equipped Rose Palace was compared to other palaces, it was still nominally an Imperial Palace.
Why would anyone call it shabby? Wasn’t he comparing it unfavorably to the Castrain Ducal House’s main residence?
That the Castrain bastard simply lost his temper and couldn’t control his nature—the Emperor could laugh that off easily enough.
Compared to other ducal families, who rarely showed a weakness, it was even a point of pride—’at least our princes aren’t so violent.’
But the idea that the Imperial Family bowed before the Castrain family? That was unforgivable!
“The princess has had a difficult time of it. Cease your tears.”
“Sob—sniff. I’m—I’m sorry for being so inadequate, Your Majesty…”
“Hush now, I said cease your tears!”
I forced my tears to stop and, still gasping miserably, looked up at the Emperor.
The Emperor seemed to consider something for a moment, then spoke.
“I’ve heard that Rose Palace took such extensive fire damage it couldn’t be left as it was. Let’s use this opportunity to rebuild it in splendid fashion—so magnificently that not even the head of the Castrain family could dare mock it!”
“R-really? There’s only you for me, F-father!”
Pathetic. A man without the spine to even lodge a protest with a ducal family. I should have known.
On the surface, I widened my eyes in delight and wonder; inside, I cursed.

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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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