The Poisonous Princess Who Successfully Infiltrated the Enemy as an Employee - Chapter 30

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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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Episode 30.

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The moment the door swung open, every gaze in the Banquet Hall snapped toward a single point.
The Duke of House Escar and Princess Evelina of Delmar had entered through the great doors.
In that instant, the sweet strain of violins that had filled the hall and the laughter of the assembled nobility cut off as though someone had drawn a blade through them.
Barcan advanced in a deep black uniform, his very passage seeming to drain the light from the Banquet Hall. A vast shadow pooled in his wake with every step.
Beside that menacing figure, the princess walked with arms folded, her frame diminutive compared to his, yet her presence yielded nothing to his dominance.
Rather, the two of them radiated such starkly different atmospheres that the contrast itself drew even more attention.
With each step the princess took, the hem of her ice-blue gown shimmered like frost flowers dissolving into the air.
Golden hair bright as dawn, features carved with delicate precision, a smile brimming with confidence, eyes full of certainty.
She bore none of the demeanor expected of a princess brought low by war and held hostage—instead, her aspect was luminously serene.
“That woman is the princess from Delmar?”
“…Good heavens. We only ever heard she was mad, but no one said anything about her being beautiful like that.”
“The princess is quite a bit smaller than I expected.”
“She only looks that small standing next to His Grace the Duke.”
Behind gilded fans, the murmured asides of the noblewomen spread in hushed waves.
The men too, fingering their goblets, fixed their stares upon the pair who had materialized in the Banquet Hall.
“The princess truly is lovely.”
“Beauty means nothing if her mind is unsound.”
“True enough, that’s rather a pity.”
“A pity? So we’re meant to believe that marrying a madwoman is acceptable if her face is pretty?”
“No, that’s not what I meant to suggest.”
“Look at her—held hostage and still grinning like the world is all sunshine. She doesn’t even comprehend her own situation.”
“You’re right. Truly… a wife who smiles like that endlessly would be rather unsettling.”
“Quiet. She’ll hear you.”
The man who’d offered that warning watched as his more talkative companion coughed awkwardly and fell silent.
Praise and mockery swirled together in a low current of conversation that drifted through one corner of the Banquet Hall.
Meanwhile, the Duke and the princess positioned themselves against a wall, side by side.
They seemed incongruous and yet somehow perfectly matched—it was difficult to look away.
The attention that had been fixed upon them gradually began to scatter.
The orchestra’s playing, which had hung so precariously unsteady, resumed its smooth flow, and the nobles who had frozen mid-drink began clinking glasses and resuming their conversations.
The Banquet Hall slipped back into its characteristic languorous, glittering atmosphere, as if the Duke and princess had never arrived at all.
A little more time passed in this fashion.
The princess proved unexpectedly quiet.
Standing beside a wooden planter slightly taller than herself, her hand resting gently upon the Duke’s arm, she maintained a peculiar smile while her round eyes rolled about, surveying the Banquet Hall from corner to corner.
She remained motionless in place, yet there was something uncanny in her gaze that made people reluctant to meet her eyes.
Several times, nobles from the vassal houses of House Escar approached to offer their respects, but the moment the Duke granted them a fleeting glance, they would bow their heads a beat too late.
That behavior subtly altered the atmosphere in the Banquet Hall.
Particularly among the retainers loyal to House Escar, the mood grew noticeably softer.
“…The princess seems rather quiet, I must say.”
No particular displays of eccentricity at all.
“Though she does smile a bit excessively, perhaps…”
“She must simply be enjoying the atmosphere of the banquet.”
“Y-yes, that must be it.”
“Indeed…”
Baron Benhet, tilting his goblet, gave a satisfied nod.
“The rumors may have been exaggerated, I suspect. Distorted and inflated by those Imperial faction dogs, perhaps.”
Most of the nobles from the vassal houses displayed expressions of relief.
“Of course—they would never have sent us a mad princess as hostage. It must have all been mere rumor.”
“Quite so. That’s surely why His Grace accepted her in the first place.”
“Yes indeed. The talk of her unsound mind was probably just slander someone made up to undermine House Escar…”
That was when it happened.
The princess, who had been standing perfectly still like a doll, casually plucked a single leaf from the wooden planter positioned directly beside her.
Then, gazing out at some point in the empty air before her, she bit down.
Crunch.
Crunch.
Crunch.
She began chewing a leaf.
“…….”
“…….”
The startled orchestra musicians fumbled their instruments, and the nobles either dropped their food or let their drinks spill down their fronts.
Among the nobility, gasps erupted—sharp intakes of breath, exclamations of shock, denials.
Everyone froze, uncertain how to respond.
Then the Grand Duke regarded the princess with a steady gaze. Not a flicker of alarm crossed his face.
He neither rebuked her nor tried to stop her.
He watched her for a moment, then drew a pristine handkerchief from his coat and offered it to her without ceremony.
The princess accepted it just as naturally and wiped her mouth.
The ease of the gesture startled the onlookers all over again. It was as though the Grand Duke had done this before—as though this were routine.
A brief exchange seemed to pass between them, too low for anyone else to hear.
The nobles remained frozen, watching the pair with rapt attention as the Grand Duke tended to her with practiced grace.
Then a door at the far end of the Banquet Hall opened, and the Emperor emerged with members of the imperial family.

***

‘Tastes worse than I expected, this leaf.’
I swallowed the last of it and wiped my lips with the handkerchief Barcan had provided.
‘When did he start carrying handkerchiefs?’
I glanced at him sideways, and Barcan, his head slightly bowed, spoke in a low voice.
“And yet you brazenly claim you’re not mad.”
I hid the smile threatening to break free behind the handkerchief and answered softly.
“You said if I were going to talk nonsense, I might as well eat a planter.”
“I didn’t realize you listened so well.”
“I rather enjoy discovering things about people, one piece at a time.”
“…….”
Barcan straightened without another word.
Truth be told, my fingers itched.
Not just my fingers—my entire body was restless.
They already thought me mad; how much better it would be to wander about, poke into things, exchange pleasantries, taste the food. But I had to remain demure for the sake of House of Escar’s dignity, so eating leaves was the least I could do to satisfy their vision of a deranged princess.
In the meantime, the Emperor arrived with members of the imperial family. The Crown Prince Cain was there, alongside Eleanor, and a handful of unfamiliar imperial relatives behind them.
Eleanor acknowledged me with a nod of her head.
The Emperor took the dais and began his address. It was mercifully brief.
With a benevolent smile, he welcomed the princess of Delmar to the Castillo Empire, honored the accord reached after the long war, and expressed hope that the Empire and the North would together enter a new era of stability.
During his remarks, the Emperor smiled at me.
Immediately, every eye in the room turned toward me.
‘Ah, why?’
The weight of all that attention.
But standing there mutely seemed worse, so I offered the Emperor a smile in return.
At that, the nobles shifted uneasily and began whispering among themselves again.
I really must be the guest of honor here.
They’re scrutinizing my every move so intently.
At last the address concluded, and the Emperor descended from the dais, walking slowly toward the spot where Barcan and I stood.
As he passed, the nobles parted before him like the waters of the Red Sea, fidgeting nervously.
‘To such an extent?’
I understood that Dragon Blood carried a certain presence, but I hadn’t thought it was quite this overwhelming.
I regarded the nobles with what I hoped was an expression of mild amusement.
The Emperor came to a halt before Barcan and me.
Once again, every eye and held breath in the Banquet Hall converged upon the three of us.
“So you return to the North tomorrow, then.”
The Emperor posed it as a statement, looking at me.
“How have you found life in the Imperial Palace? Has it not occurred to you to remain here?”
It struck me as an odd thing for someone who’d sent me away to say, and I tilted my head slightly. But I smiled nonetheless.
“I’ve been most comfortable, thanks to your gracious consideration, Your Majesty. And yet a person must have her proper place. Mine is surely—”
I turned my gaze to Barcan, standing solid at my side.
“—at the side of the Grand Duke, my husband-to-be.”
The Emperor’s eyes flickered, barely perceptibly.

“It’s fortunate the two of them seem to get along so well, even before the wedding ceremony takes place.”
The Emperor’s gaze shifted toward Barcan.
“Indeed, Duke. Since we’re on the subject, let me ask—when do you intend to hold the wedding? A princess who has come so far from Delmar cannot remain indefinitely as a guest of House of Escar. If we delay much longer, the Kingdom of Delmar, with whom we’ve just concluded a Peace Treaty, may seize upon some pretext for complaint.”
Barcan fell briefly silent at the Emperor’s words.
Though the silence lasted only moments, the air in the Banquet Hall seemed to stretch as though time itself had frozen.
Then Barcan spoke, his voice steady and measured.
“There will be no wedding.”
“……What?”
The Emperor’s thick eyebrows twitched sharply with displeasure.

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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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