Sister-in-law of the Heroine in a Childcare Novel - Chapter 18

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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 18

The Emperor, constantly measured against the Castrain Ducal House and steeped in inferiority, never once sent a direct complaint their way.
Just look at this time.
‘How shameful—the second son of the Castrain Ducal House insulted the princess and set fire to Rose Palace, yet the benevolent Emperor not only refrained from punishment but consoled his daughter and rebuilt her residence’—that’s the sort of rumor he hoped would spread about his magnanimity.
Never mind that Titania lived in a remote, neglected palace; it was still a palace.
Even with fires set in all directions this time, it wasn’t damaged so extensively as to require a complete reconstruction.
His grand proclamation about rebuilding aside.
At most, he’d simply repair and renovate the fire-damaged sections while touching up other areas to look respectable on the surface.
How petty.
If I were Emperor, I’d have seized the chance to show off—’Look how generous I am’—and simply handed over an entirely vacant, magnificent new palace to the princess.
Though I suppose deliberately provoking that complex by having to repair Rose Palace itself made some twisted sense.
The Empress, who had been observing quietly, finally spoke.
“If that’s the case, where will Princess Titania reside while the palace undergoes major renovation?”
Cleo, the First Imperial Consort, cut in with a bright voice.
“The Dedication Ceremony this summer is just around the corner, isn’t it? When our Brian leaves for the ceremony, my palace will be empty too, and I’ll have no company. How about staying at my Daisy Palace, Princess Titania?”
I caught Cleo’s gaze—there was something calculating in it—and my instinct flared.
Ah, damn it. She’s telling me to step up and make sure I’m not left out.
Well, it’s not terrible. Since I’m going anyway, better that I earn the Emperor’s favor.
“Father, the debt of gratitude you’ve shown me runs so deep, and given that I’ve never been as useful to the Imperial Family as my two older brothers…”
I dabbed at the tears gathering in the corners of my eyes with my sleeve and spoke in a trembling voice.
“Please, allow me to attend the Dedication Ceremony this summer in my brothers’ stead.”
“Our princess seemed so small, yet she’s grown capable of such thoughtful reasoning—my how you’ve matured!”
The Emperor burst into hearty laughter. He must have felt tremendous relief.
He’d been exhausted by the subtle power struggle over which of the two princes to send to the ceremony.
Though the Emperor had tacitly favored Brian until now, with no formal Crown Prince appointment in sight.
Ignoring his legitimate son born of the Empress would put considerable strain on him.
“Excellent, excellent. The urgent repairs must begin at once, naturally. But while you’re away at the Dedication Ceremony, we can complete the major work on Rose Palace. You must have suffered greatly—to think of your father at such a time shows you truly are a filial daughter! Our Titania is a model of virtue!”
I merely smiled in response.
As if any father could willingly send a girl he’d recently watched teeter on the brink of death—caught in a burning palace—all the way to the distant edges of the empire. My already-fragile affection for him plummeted further into the red.
That was precisely when.
“The First Imperial Prince, Brian, has arrived.”
“Brian!”
Cleo leapt from her seat, heedless of propriety, beaming with delight. I glanced at the clock.
We’d lost track of time talking about me—it was already past six, by more than thirty minutes.
Perhaps the Imperial Palace had only informed me late today, but the servants of other residences must have been told as soon as this dinner was planned.
No matter how late, word would have reached them by dawn or yesterday at the latest.
What audacity made him keep the Emperor waiting?
“A wild boar, caught to wish His Majesty ten thousand years of longevity! Shall we bring it to the table?”
Brian strode in radiating self-importance, trailed by two or three attendants frantically dragging a wild boar that bled profusely.
The Empress’s eyes changed. So did the Second Prince’s. Both silently asked: ‘Where exactly is this idiot useful?’
The Emperor, however, gazed at the fool with genuine admiration.
“Ah, Brian! You are ever valiant! The very Magic Beasts would flee in terror at the sight of you!”
Your Majesty has far too many scales over your eyes.
I strode past toward the Emperor, approaching the embracing Brian, and caught the faint scent of alcohol on him.
And the stain of fresh, bright blood on his outer robes, visible only for a moment before it was hidden.
By any reasonable measure, this looked like he’d been drinking outside until just before six, then hurriedly grabbed a boar as an excuse and come running.
The blood would have long since dried by the time he transported the kill from the nearest hunting ground to the Imperial Palace.
If he genuinely meant to serve game at the table, he’d have arrived at least an hour earlier to have it dressed for cooking.
After all, why would he arrive so late in the novel if not for this commotion? Before, he rarely even drew his famous sword, Veris-Patio.
Brian’s Swordsmanship was nothing more than theater for the Emperor’s approval.
Yet the Emperor, utterly indifferent to such transparent schemes, positively dripped honey when he looked at Brian—evident even in this absurd exchange.
“This boar’s hind legs—I pierced them myself!”
“Marvelous, truly impressive! My pride and joy!”
Which made sense: unlike the Second Prince, who crept through life in silence, or me, plagued by illness until I was past ten, Brian alone among us pursued hunting as a hobby and cut the figure of a robust imperial heir in the knights’ company.
In our house, even a child could fell a Magic Beast.
Because of the deep-rooted inferiority complex toward the Castrain family—children thrown bare-handed before Magic Beasts without concern—the Emperor needed this: ‘So the Castrain children aren’t the only ones who wield a sword. We have one too’—mere.
Childish satisfaction, nothing more.
Hunting where beaters and hunters did all the work, driving prey directly into his path.
Incomparable to risking one’s life against Magic Beasts that spew flame, burrow earth, freeze, and spray poison.
Yet the Emperor wanted desperately to believe that any prince he could command was roughly equivalent to the Castrain family.
And if it looked obvious and cheap to others, what of it?
The Emperor was laughing his approval.
As expected, the Emperor lavished great praise on the Second Prince’s courage and bestowed rewards.
He didn’t reproach him for arriving at the dinner table reeking of blood. He said nothing about the lateness.
The three of them—Cleo, the Emperor, and Brian—created such a cozy scene, you’d think no one else was there.
Though I feigned indifference, the Empress’s eyes had taken on a distinctly cold gleam.
The Second Prince, drunk on his own magnificence, seemed confident his mother would handle ‘trifles’ like his sister’s brush with death or fires in the palace, and he droned on with the Emperor while the Empress listened with one ear and discarded with the other, and the dinner came to an end.
Cleo fawned over Brian with endless praise. When she murmured, ‘Why don’t the three of you have a drinking session with the wild boar you caught together?’ the Emperor fell for it.
Thanks to that, I stood to leave the table without anyone’s attention, free to return to my palace.
“Titania?”
“……”
Adrian, the Second Prince, called to me—his handsome face bearing a striking resemblance to the Empress.
Unlike the First Prince, whose decent looks were spoiled by eyes that seemed to belittle everyone, Adrian embodied what royal blood meant: a boy refined with an air of nobility.
My half-brother from distant halls, who’d watched me grow up alone and unsupported, offering only faint pity, sympathy, and contempt.
“It’s been a while, hasn’t it? Want to have tea with your brother? Rose Palace will still be in disarray, so let’s go to Lilac Palace.”
I turned and caught sight of the Empress’s empty seat—she’d already left—and Adrian, smiling gently as if he’d been waiting for me all along.
“I’d like that.”

* * *

“That lunatic—I have no idea what he’s thinking.”
Lisianthus’s voice was drained of all strength. Raymond set down his quill, which had been scratching ceaselessly, in silence.
His younger brother had stormed into his study, commandeered one end of the sofa, and thrown himself down in a sulk, but Raymond found he couldn’t ignore him.
Or perhaps it was the listless muttering itself that nagged at him too much to focus on documents.
Raymond regarded Lisianthus silently. His hot-blooded younger brother had a habit of running his hands through his hair whenever stressed.
True to form, the boy’s hair, draped lifelessly across the sofa, was already near scarlet from the rumpling. As he mussed it further, he continued to mutter under his breath.

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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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