Sister-in-law of the Heroine in a Childcare Novel - Chapter 178

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

Chapter 178

“That’s fair, I suppose. Though it would be a bit lonely if you treated me like a complete stranger.”
I laughed, letting my voice turn soft and breezy, as though the matter held no weight. Raymond studied me intently, his gaze steady.
“Only a bit lonely?”
“All right, then—very lonely. Better?”
Not long ago, we’d both drawn comfort from treating each other as strangers, so there was little point in dwelling on it now.
That was the simple truth. When I saw Raymond, I struggled to find words. Recently, despite having reached some inner conclusion about how to behave and what kind of relationship to establish, sediments of memory and feeling—accumulated across countless hours—stirred like fossils, leaving me unsettled time and again.
Did he feel the same?
I knew he was anxious, that he watched me with care. I knew his apologies were genuine, his regret sincere.
Yet just as it’s difficult to assign blame for a personal tragedy that flowed from circumstances and context, I found myself occasionally wondering—even knowing the answer.
Like the eyes of Lisianthus, which had appeared swallowed by shadows traced in flame.
So I wondered: would this man, whose principles and sense of justice and responsibility seemed carved in stone, ever reach a point of complete collapse?
Titania had already crossed that threshold once. Even if, in others’ eyes, the cause had been love of the basest kind.
But the people of the Castrain family rarely broke so easily.
Take Lisianthus, for instance. I honestly couldn’t say. He lived so openly, so freely—the way he treated me like a very old colleague or a friend his own age said enough.
He might endure anything without a flicker, or he might hold steady until the very end, then suddenly pivot in ways I couldn’t predict.
Raymond was different—harder to read in another way entirely. Whenever he cast these sudden remarks my way, I felt the reality of how our relationship had changed from before. But if I was answering with a smile, then I, too, must have changed quite a bit.
“If we go out together today, Flux will be disappointed.”
“He’s been wrestling with merchants all day, devising new trade arrangements for the Castrain Family. A man with his appetite for work hardly requires your concern, Your Highness.”
A faint whistle came as the window trembled. Outside, in the gathering dark, the sun had already set.
“Does the tea suit your taste?”
“Yes, I’m not particular about varieties.”
Yet even my untrained nose caught the elegant fragrance drifting through the air, and the aftertaste was refreshing. This must have been extraordinarily expensive.
No matter how much the young Titania had behaved like a tyrant in the Rose Palace, the household staff had subtly neglected her, and the budget was thin.
The tea leaves provided to her were merely ordinary. Besides, tea ceremonies and tea culture only became pleasant when you could invite others, when you could share tea and food with companions. Drinking alone offered little joy.
For a child’s palate, sweet juices, cocoa, or punch were far more appealing.
Yet the original Titania, despite knowing little about tea, had been desperately prone to finding fault with it whenever she boasted.
Water temperature, brewing methods, steeping time—tea varied infinitely with such factors. When someone complained, everyone simply assumed, “Oh, so the Highness usually brews it far better than this,” and let it pass. But the moment anyone pressed for specifics, her pretense crumbled.
If they simply asked what was wrong and how to fix it, she’d have no proper answer.
Even if Queen Cleo had kept her close for her own purposes, Cleo could never have taught her genuine tea craft.
Cleo’s own knowledge, learned from the Lande Marquis House, was only surface-deep, and since comparing herself would expose her ignorance, she’d simply glossed over the subject from the start.
That’s why the original Titania disliked Adrian. In truth, if she’d believed Cleo and herself were allies, she had every reason to. He was an enemy of Brian.
Moreover, Adrian possessed nearly everything Titania envied—all but one thing.
Golden hair as lustrous as Titania’s and green eyes. Eloquent speech. An elegant mother who’d educated him well, allowing him grace and confidence wherever he went.
Yet his true circumstance—being the Emperor’s only illegitimate son, failing even to be the eldest, eclipsed by an older brother born of a concubine, slighted by the Emperor—had never registered on her.
That’s what inferiority complexes do.
You weigh what you lack far more heavily than what you possess.
Why don’t I have anything?
Why am I—what did I ever do wrong?
‘So be careful yourself.’
But once she and Adrian became allies in the Imperial Palace, facing a common enemy, he’d treated me with an almost familial warmth—flirting with me as though we were siblings from the same womb.
At first I’d maintained some distance, drawn a line. But after I noticed the Empress took an interest in me, I couldn’t afford to be so aloof.
Before long I found myself thinking: This person didn’t seem to act this way before—why is he causing such trouble? Why is he so bothersome? And then, as though he were some irresponsible relative, I’d find myself worrying about him.
So this was the feeling of having a troublemaking blood relation… I gathered my thoughts and broached the subject.
After all, why look far when the family’s power broker—who received all the latest information—sat right before me.
“Speaking of which, I’m curious about what’s happening in the Capital. Have you heard any news?”
“Yes, I thought you might wonder. Well…”
“Well?”
“I’m not certain how to say this, but the Hunting Competition ended with Prince Brian’s victory. However…”
The competition had the Emperor’s direct involvement, so Brian’s win was inevitable. Yet Raymond’s voice trailed off.
“There was a problem with the prize during the Award Ceremony, so they’ve postponed the ceremony to a later date.”
“What? A problem with the prize?”
“It was…”
Raymond explained the situation, and it went something like this:

* * *

“How on earth did this happen!”
Queen Cleo’s fury erupted.
She regretted not being able to catch and eliminate Adrian like a loach slipping through her fingers, but yes—it could have been worse.
Lilium had laughed and said “Don’t worry,” which had given her some hope. But there were far too many eyes on such an occasion.
She’d already sent over a hundred assassins after Adrian. It was reasonable to assume the Empress had some contingency to protect her precious son.
Adrian had made a spectacle, claiming he was chased by a bear, and had forfeit. Cleo clicked her tongue—he was cunning.
It had been a wise choice.
The Hunting Competition was a minefield Cleo and Prince Brian had already seeded. Better to sacrifice some dignity and keep his life; they could take satisfaction in the spectacle he’d made of himself before all those nobles. Those stubborn old men who’d supported Adrian merely because he was the Emperor’s legitimate son—how disappointed they must be.
And now this new Brian had brought back heaps of game. Even if others had helped, even if everything had been blatantly arranged in his favor, he’d still produced results of his own.
So what happened?
“How did the Red Hawk Tail Feather disintegrate the moment it touched Brian’s hand!”
The Emperor had proceeded with his grand Award Ceremony as planned.
He’d presented the Red Hawk Tail Feather as the victor’s prize, fully expecting this boy to deliver it proudly to Valentina, the former Crown Princess, and return to the Imperial Palace triumphant.
But the problem occurred the moment the Emperor placed the precious Red Hawk Tail Feather into Brian’s hands. The instant his bare skin touched it, the brilliant scarlet feathers let out a soft hiss and corroded to a sickly blue.
Brian had shown no alarm and tried to handle it calmly, but the Emperor was shocked.
The panicked Emperor began shouting—wasn’t that poison? What had happened? He ordered an investigation, and summoned a Priest in case something was wrong with the prize itself, making quite a fuss.
The test results were…
The liquid coating the feathers was Sacred Purification Water, treated as holy water.
But the inspectors, sensing the Emperor’s alarm, couched their findings carefully.
They said it appeared to have deteriorated from prolonged storage.
The Emperor ordered those responsible for its preservation severely punished and fretted over the ominous sign. He congratulated Brian on his victory and bestowed other gifts, but still—
He couldn’t very well present a scorched gift to a superior as an “honorable” token, could he?
Red Hawk Tail Feathers were not common.
The particularly prized Red Hawks of the Imperial Palace were a rare species—only one or two appeared after many generations.
The one he’d intended to award Brian had been stored in the Imperial Treasury for well over twenty years. The explanation about storage deterioration was plausible enough.
And in the end, everything had unfolded exactly as Adrian had foreseen.

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