Surviving as a Terminally Ill Heiress - Chapter 43

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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 43

* * *

There is a saying in Atera.
Three things mark a soul bound for damnation.
First: pouring black tea into milk when making milk tea.
Second: spreading cream before jam on a scone.
And third and final: marrying against your mother’s wishes.
‘Though strictly speaking, it’s meant to honor mothers…….’
But the literal meaning held true as well.
Even now, in this rigid country, a marriage opposed by one’s mother finds no welcome.
A lifetime of sidelong glances and whispered gossip awaits.
Even the temples themselves demur—’Without your mother’s blessing, we’re not entirely comfortable……’—and hesitate to solemnize such unions.
If one lost their mother early, they’d need to seek the blessing of a godmother or trusted elder instead.
In truth, marriage in Atera is a realm where the mother’s voice carries the greatest weight.
And what of the marriages of nobles loyal to the state?
Those fall under the purview of the National Mother—the Empress herself.
She presides over wedding blessings, arranges matches between elderly unmarried nobles, and more besides.
Most importantly, she holds the final authority over all noble marriages.
Whether a noble marries or divorces, they must first obtain the Empress’s permission.
‘And the moment that approval is granted, the noble family tree is immediately amended.’
Of course, it was almost entirely a formality.
One submitted a marriage-related report, and she simply affixed her seal with a stamp—done.
‘……But divorce is never easy, even so.’
Especially when children are involved.
The benevolent Empress never spares her counsel in the name of family harmony.
Or so the stories go: “Character differences? Think of the children and endure it a while—I’m withholding approval.” She says such things often.
And tears up the divorce papers for good measure.
So really, it’s counsel in name only. An order, in fact.
On the rare occasions when she does approve a divorce, she offers advice like: “What? The child wants to live with grandmother? And the puppy you raised? Then it shall be so.” Of course, one complies.
There is no force, technically speaking.
But power is force itself.
What Ateran noble would dare ignore the National Mother who oversees their marriage?
In a sense, she functions as a domestic court as well.
And that point was crucial.
‘A clean divorce, provision for Matilda, and an equitable division of assets.’
Let’s see what happens.
I clenched my fists tight.

* * *

The Empress’s Salon.
It opens its doors every Wednesday, and has a peculiar rule for first entry.
One must use the Ribbon sent by the Empress in her invitation.
There are no detailed rules.
Only a single objective exists.
‘Stand out more than anyone else.’
Everyone enters with the same object in hand.
To catch the eye of the Empress and the powerful, one had to be bold.
It required wit and ingenuity above all.
How many different ways had that Ribbon been put to use over the years?
Simply tying it in one’s hair or pinning it to a dress had become utterly tedious.
Unraveling the Ribbon’s threads to craft something entirely new might at least earn marks for effort.
There was the time some powerful family’s daughter attached it to her shoe—a choice that made others gasp: “Did she really adorn her foot with a gift from the Empress?”
‘Ha ha! How audacious!’
But the Empress actually rather enjoyed that audacity.
Those who entered afterward all regretted not being bolder themselves.
Though regret, of course, always comes late.
The Empress’s Salon operates on silence.
Those who entered before offer no hints to newcomers.
Beyond the aesthetics of silence, there’s no benefit in helping anyone else.
A cluster of noblewomen waved their fans languidly and whispered.
“How audacious will the young ladies be this year?”
“It’s always delightful to see the handiwork of the clever ones.”
“Do you know who received invitations?”
“It’s not confirmed yet, but House Spencer and House Dakota, and……”
House Ambrose.
No one spoke the name aloud, yet everyone knew.
An invitation surely must have been sent.
But in their hearts, they were loath to admit it.
‘That she had a common-born mother from that wretched Ritz?’
The rumors had already spread beyond control.
In truth, House Ambrose’s family matters were never kept secret.
They tended to announce such things openly instead.
Almost as if inviting gossip, they showed little reaction to the whispers.
Such composure seemed like the ease of the powerful and was infuriating, but that too was House Ambrose.
The noblest of nobles. The richest of the rich. The gold that feeds the Ateran Empire.
And yet from that very House Ambrose……
‘An illegitimate princess has appeared!’
Conservative noblewomen clicked their tongues behind their fans.
Even the Duke of House Ambrose had become an object of pity.
Not only did he lose his only son in war, but when he finally recovered his blood relation, she comes from such circumstances?
“I’m disappointed in the young Prince of Ambrose.”
Someone muttered sourly.
The other women of similar age silently concurred.
It happened that many current socialites had harbored admiration for the young Prince of Ambrose in their youth.
One Crane Among Chickens.
That description had not been wasted on that young man.
Beauty, lineage, ability—nothing was lacking.
The aloof Anselm Ambrose, who never wavered even when young ladies threw themselves at him……!
“And yet he took a mistress from the street—a woman of a fallen nation. How unexpected…….”
A failed first love.
A man who makes you ashamed of having dared to love him deserves all the scorn he receives.
Kindred spirits in their resentment, the women grew heated.
“Did she have even a respectable position?”
“Hardly. A woman from Ritz? Well, I heard she was a dancer.”
Good heavens!
The salon erupted into a stir.
“What amusing topic has captured your attention so thoroughly?”
At that very moment, the Empress entered.
The noblewomen and young ladies who had been eagerly gossiping leapt to their feet.
“We pay our respects to Your Majesty.”
“Yes, yes, do be seated.”
Everyone in the salon tensed.
The Empress seemed kind, but she was a fastidious woman.
How to describe her? She had strong convictions about right and wrong that made her wise yet somewhat rigid; she was exacting toward herself and others; she cherished those she favored and cast them out without mercy when she no longer did; she despised presumptuousness yet had a taste for audacity……
In short, she was the worst possible superior.
“……Announcing: the arrival of the Princess of House Ambrose!”
At that very instant, a startling proclamation rang out.
The room fell silent as if someone had poured ice water over it.
The very subject of their gossip had appeared before them in person.
“My apologies for my lateness.”
A lovely child with lavender hair.
Behind those gentle eyes dwelt pupils—unmistakably, the distinctive red of House Ambrose.
The salon’s hyenas scrutinized the child carefully.
The Empress typically remained still in such moments.
She needed to gauge the measure of this girl she’d never seen before.
Precisely as expected—the hyenas pounced.
“Princess, you’re unfamiliar with the salon’s customs, it seems…….”
“I have the invitation.”
Here.
Lavigne cut off the speaker and lifted the hem of her skirt to show it.
Boring decoration on a dress? We’ll tear it apart for sport.
The eyes of the salon’s women lit up with anticipation.
That is……a white fluffy thing?
“Meow.”
No. A white cat.
A white cat was playing with the hem of Lavigne’s dress and rolling across the floor.
And around its neck……
A pink satin Ribbon.
She——she really put the Empress’s gift around a cat’s neck——
Everyone’s jaw dropped.
And then……
“Ha ha ha ha! Now that’s audacious!”
The Empress was absolutely delighted.

* * *

It had been a kind of gamble.
I had to get her attention quickly, so I had to stand out at any cost.
‘At least I’m not facing execution by a thousand cuts.’
I let out a quiet breath of relief inside.
Then I carefully observed the woman seated across from me—the Empress.
“That creature certainly lives a blessed life, sprawling about like that.”
She gazed affectionately at Shasha, who lay draped across the table.
My choice of action was not, of course, entirely thoughtless.
That the Empress had a fondness for cats was not widely known.
But that would change.
In a few years, a certain diplomatic delegation would present the Empress with a cat of fine breeding, and word would spread that she had been far more delighted than by any amount of gold or silver.
‘That baron’s daughter who collects everything related to the imperial court will certainly remember this.’
She’d covered her walls with clippings to the point that she had trouble removing them later.

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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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