Sister-in-law of the Heroine in a Childcare Novel - Chapter 95

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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 95

One child ought to be enough. Surely that would suffice. But what meaning could there be in a power that gnawed away at human lives to sustain it, in the continuation of a bloodline purchased at such a price?
The House of Castrain had intermarried with the bloodlines of other fading heroes—those whose houses crumbled and vanished. It was done to gather strength, however little. Once bloodlines mixed, any talented member of the family could, in theory, awaken to Divine Power. It was worth the gamble.
And Orto’s Wife was the last hidden bloodline of a forgotten hero—something the House of Castrain had never before obtained.
So from the beginning, the marriage had been planned with one purpose: to have a child. More than that, the lady herself had desired it more than anyone.
‘Won’t you stay by my side a little longer?’
So when her husband spoke in that feeble voice, she had answered only in calm, steady tones.
‘One or two is too few. The world will become more perilous. We need more children to prepare for it. Three—only then can they truly help one another in any meaningful way. You won’t have to struggle alone as you do now.’
……
‘I love you. But you must fulfill your duty. As must I. We know more than most, and we hold more power than most. If the world is a cracked boat adrift upon an endless sea, then before it sinks, we must at least attempt to patch the hull……’
Duke Orto had obtained a truly, damnably perfect duchess.
‘Forgive me. I intend to leave before you do.’
To a husband who, in the face of love, had briefly valued his wife’s life more than duty or the House’s security, she had gently replied that she did not wish for such a thing, that this was her own obligation—and she chose death. Such a wife.
No perfect duchess could exist beyond her.
In truth, Orto’s Wife achieved all she had desired. Raymond: accomplished in both letters and arms, flawless in every measure. Lisianthus: awakened to Fire Power and masterful with the blade. Rasper: weak of body, yet wiser than any, his mind keen and his hunger for knowledge unceasing. As powers and abilities went, the three brothers were perfect.
“Lisianthus and Raymond have gone south, then?”
“Yes, sir. The young lady Bibi also said she would gather the item you spoke of before and follow them.”
“I remember. My sons have been rather gentle with the princess of late.”
Orto thought of his eldest son, who had behaved foolishly enough in recent days.
He had never been a warm or gentle father to Raymond—not even in pretense.
Raymond had been born perfect, as he and his wife had desired. Above all, he was strong. He was the ideal heir to whom Duke Orto could entrust everything without worry. Orto knew his son was burdened by a sense of responsibility, yet he could not lighten that load. In their position, a single mistake meant death.
The Imperial Family had insisted on clinging to the memory of the dead duchess, so the betrothal had been arranged merely to appease them—a temporary measure meant to be severed at an opportune moment.
Yet the princess’s transformation had been remarkable. What was most striking was that there seemed to be no one pulling her strings. She haggled carelessly for deals, rescued people carelessly, threw herself into danger carelessly……
At first, Duke Orto had been wary of this change. Now, well. He had not seen her face himself, but the steady stream of news about the princess that reached him……
“……She resembles my wife far too much.”
“Sir?”
Duke Orto stubbed out his nearly spent cigar and swallowed, tasting something bitterly medicinal.
Yes. That absence of hesitation—she bore it far too much like his wife.
The way Raymond circled the princess, the way Lisianthus’s manner had changed, the way Bibi followed her about saying “sister, sister”—Orto merely watched. His sense of foreboding had begun only recently.
Princess Titania was too free of hesitation.
Like his wife, who had counted even her own life and love as nothing against her purpose.
“……I hope Raymond doesn’t end up like me.”
Smoke drifted into the air like acrid regret.

* * *

“I come personally to summon my sister, and this is how I’m received? How can such a thing be?”
Cleo smiled brilliantly.
Yet anyone who saw that smile would never believe she was smiling from the heart.
Her cat-like eyes gleamed with a venom that ran deep, and her upturned mouth held a frost so sharp it seemed to cut. The modest dress she had long worn while confined to her own palace, scrutinizing the Emperor’s moods, had been discarded. Now she wore a shimmering gown of rare silk brought from distant lands. In her hair she wore the Ocean of Stars, which she had long since refrained from displaying. Jewels gifted by the Emperor hung at her ears and throat—a dazzling display whose intent was plain: to diminish someone’s spirit through sheer radiance.
Cleo and Brian’s situation had become untenable.
The Emperor had long found Cleo’s tantrums amusing. Or rather, he had enjoyed watching her crush petty matters and strut about with her chin held high in his stead. Yet in the aftermath of the Magic Beast attack on the Imperial Palace, both Brian and Cleo had fallen from the Emperor’s favor.
The Emperor was fond of those who flattered him smoothly, so his anger would certainly fade soon enough. No one in the palace knew how to placate the Emperor as well as Cleo did. Though he was fond of women and might harbor thoughts of bringing a new concubine to the palace, there were already two imperial consorts, each with a child—a prince and a princess respectively. So taking a new mistress held no appeal.
Cleo had truly, thoroughly received a blow to the back of her head from Titania. The kitten she had dismissed as young, clawless, and ignorant had struck back properly. When she remembered that mocking smile, and then thought of that Young Duke who had threatened her afterward, a fire kindled in her chest—a fire that would consume her from within.
Since she had fallen from the Emperor’s favor, she could not act recklessly. So Cleo had come to Licoris Palace.
“…Second Consort Elaine is indisposed at the moment.”
The palace matron—the only servant keeping Licoris Palace—trailed off. Cleo clicked her tongue at the sight.
Elaine had been scorned even in her own home. After bearing the princess, she had spent her days frail and withdrawn, and by rejecting the Emperor—perhaps still pining for her dead former lover—she had ensured no proper attendants were assigned to her. The matron now greeting Cleo was not even of noble birth; she was merely a servant from the Countess Family who had come to attend Elaine.
No matter that Cleo had fallen from favor, she remained the true power of the palace. She was the mother of the Emperor’s firstborn son. Even if she threw a tantrum and forced her way into Licoris Palace, there was no one to stop her.
“Then if she is indisposed, I must pay her a sick visit. Come to think of it, I have been neglectful. Are we not like sisters, serving His Majesty together?”
Cleo’s smile remained bright, but her eyes turned glacial.
“My sister’s illness does seem quite severe. The Empress, exalted though she is, cannot concern herself with such private matters. I should have taken care of it, and I have been terribly thoughtless! How remiss of me these past days.”
“I… that is not…”
The matron stumbled over her words. Everything from her tone to her posture fell short of what one would expect from an imperial consort’s chief servant. It was plain she had no idea how to respond to such a situation.
“The Imperial Palace has physicians aplenty and priests we can summon. Yet she has suffered this illness for so long. What if—unbeknownst to us—it is contagious? His Majesty the Emperor himself resides within these walls. If her mere presence were to cause him harm, how could such a transgression be forgiven?”
The matron’s face went white.
It was a blatant threat: if they would not grant her entry to Licoris Palace, she would make an issue of Elaine’s condition.
Everyone knew Elaine’s illness was not contagious. And yet… what was there that First Consort Cleo could not do within the Imperial Palace?
It was remarkable that Titania, bristling at the suggestion of such a curse being laid upon her, had stood against her at all.
Within the Imperial Palace, Cleo had no rival. Even if she had lately incurred the Emperor’s wrath, the Emperor had never favored the Empress. He would not stand by the Empress simply because a consort had ruffled his feathers. In other words, even if the threat were ignored now, it would surely materialize in the future.
In the end, the matron bit her lip and stepped aside, allowing Cleo to pass.
Licoris Palace was cool and damp even in broad daylight. One could not help but wonder if a patient could possibly recover in such an environment.
Cleo observed the sparse, shabby palace—devoid of proper furnishings—as she followed the matron. Before long they arrived at Second Consort Elaine’s bedchamber. The matron, at a loss, informed her mistress within that First Consort Cleo had come to visit. A flicker of curiosity arose in Cleo.
The Emperor himself had likely not set eyes on Second Consort Elaine’s face in years. A consort who had fallen from imperial favor could hardly expect an easy life in the palace. Her family, the Countess Family, would have provided little additional support, so it was not surprising that this invalid had barely eaten properly and lived in straitened circumstances.
Had she been merely ill—had her situation not been so poor that she might starve to death regardless—Cleo would have considered poisoning her to scar that face the empire claimed was the most beautiful. But such was not the case.
“Come in.”
The voice sounded like dry wood snapping—brittle, thin. Cleo’s eyes widened.

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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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