A Crown of Vanity

Hector did not deliberate long.

He flicked his fingers lazily.

“I permit it.”

He thought it would not be a bad idea to make full use of Chloe.

Turning her into a symbol of extravagance and vanity might even be amusing.

How would she look when pointed at and whispered about by all, when even a mere maid’s uniform had made her look as though she wished to die?

Would she pale and tremble?

If he intended to tire of her after a few nights of pleasure, there would be no need to grant her a title.

But for now, it did not seem their connection would end so quickly.

Even after a night entangled with her, the mere thought of her made his lower abdomen tighten.

Physical desire inevitably dulled with time.

Even the body’s appetite must have its limits.

When the time came to end things with Chloe, the conditions would be ideal.

Guillaume Larouge, who did not get along with her, would not stand as her protector, and her birth was lower than that of commoners.

Disposing of her would be easy.

He might grow bored of her sooner than expected.

Even now, he was tolerating her insolent attitude.

One day, if his mood soured, he might simply order her execution.

It would not be the first time he had sent someone to the scaffold.

He had never once regretted a severed head.

“Shall we rise? Do I have to quarrel with the old men of the Privy Council again today?”

Listening to the chamberlain recite the schedule, he left the bedchamber.

Unaware of the discussion unfolding outside, Chloe slept a heavy, exhausted sleep.

She dreamed of fire forcing its way into her body.

At last, she rubbed her eyes and awoke late in the morning.

When she pushed aside the thick canopy of the bed, a polite knock followed shortly after.

“Have you awakened, my lady?”

It was the head maid she had seen the day before.

Chloe gathered the front of her robe and bowed in the modest manner of a lower maid.

“I have shamefully occupied His Majesty’s bedchamber for far too long.”

“It is no matter. There was an imperial command that you be attended comfortably.”

“But—”

“There is also another matter conveyed by the chamberlain. It is said that Lady Larouge will soon be acknowledged as Imperatris Secunda.”

“…Pardon? What did you just say?”

Chloe clamped a hand over her mouth to keep from crying out.

It felt as though she had been struck on the back of the head.

Though the timing and circumstances differed, the general course resembled her previous life.

Back then, too, she had served as the official consort.

At night, she had desperately moved above Hector, and by day she had been mocked as a lavish temptress.

But this time was different.

She did not want the position.

There was no use pleading with the head maid.

This was something she had to settle directly with Hector.

Other maids entered in a rush.

They were all assigned to attend her.

Her residence would soon be decided as well, though even before the announcement, she could guess it would be the same place she had once occupied.

A formal gown was placed upon her.

Surrounded by maids, she felt like a sheep torn at by a pack of wild dogs.

The hair ornaments were heavy.

More than a dozen pins secured her updo.

Even though there was no grand event, a jeweled tiara was set upon her crown.

The undergarments beneath the dress layered more than ten deep.

A pannier supported by whalebone gave her skirts their volume.

A tightly boned corset pressed heavily against her hips.

It was an outfit that embodied the height of luxury.

Yet one detail was intolerable.

The neckline plunged so wide and deep that it exposed nearly her entire chest.

The bruised marks around her neck and the oval bite marks on her breasts were plainly visible.

“I… would like to wear a shawl.”

She could not step outside like this.

But the head maid shook her head politely yet firmly.

“I am sorry. This attire was personally selected by His Majesty and cannot be altered.”

The intention behind the clothing was unmistakable.

Chloe covered her chest with her hands, mortified by her reflection.

Anyone could tell she had spent a passionate night with the Emperor.

First, she wanted to speak with Hector.

Judging by the situation, his resolve to elevate her to Imperatris Secunda was firm.

Even if her refusal would change nothing, she wanted to try.

It was the desperation of one grasping at straw.

She had justification, at least.

If the truth of the murder were revealed, even an arbitrary Emperor would struggle to avoid public censure.

“May I request an audience with His Majesty?”

“I shall relay the message.”

Before long, the maid returned with word.

“His Majesty is presently engaged in official duties. You are to come to the office and wait.”

She was escorted to the Emperor’s office.

The towering mahogany double doors radiated authority.

She waited in the corridor for a long while.

No summons came.

As time dragged on, she sensed this was Hector’s deliberate cruelty.

When she asked the chamberlain whether the audience could be postponed, she received only an awkward expression in return.

The Emperor had commanded her presence.

She must wait until permission to enter was granted.

Chloe remained standing in one place.

Several nobles passed in and out of the office.

Each one examined her from head to toe, their gazes lingering on the exposed swell of her chest.

Shame and humiliation chilled her to the bone.

Her pale body trembled.

After standing for so long, she reached her limit.

At last, she staggered and braced herself against the wall.

At that moment, Hector appeared.

He arrived when she was at her weakest.

“Y-Your Majesty…”

She had meant to speak boldly, with dignity.

But her body refused to obey.

Worn down by days of strain, her strength failed her.

Her rigid posture crumbled.

Her legs gave way entirely.

She sank to the floor like a flower whose stem had snapped.

From below, Hector’s presence felt even more oppressive.

His height and long, muscular legs radiated masculine dominance.

He lifted his chin arrogantly.

His gaze reduced her to something insignificant.

“You look like a wretched donkey. How dull.”

At the unfiltered mockery, goosebumps rose along her skin.

To him, she was little more than livestock ready for slaughter.

This second life was not so different from the first.

If his favor vanished, the scaffold awaited her.

As if to prove it, he looked down at her with a face devoid of emotion.

At most, he drew in a faint, displeased breath.

Hector moved to pass her without stopping.

As he walked by, he casually nudged the wide hem of her skirt aside with his foot.

“Your Majesty, I have something to say.”

It felt as though grabbing him recklessly might cost her head.

Yet Chloe forced herself to meet his eyes.

“I have heard that you intend to appoint me Imperatris Secunda. It is a great honor, but I humbly lack the ability to fulfill such a role. I beg you to reconsider.”

He halted.

With a tilt of his head, he dismissed the attendants trailing behind him.

They withdrew at once, keeping their distance.

Hector turned back to her slowly.

Folding his arms, he looked down as though observing a performing animal.

“So you lack ability and wish to idle away?”

“That is not what I mean—”

“Stubborn donkey indeed. Perhaps a beating will teach you to carry your load.”

His tone struck sharp and cold.

“We shall see how much you can contribute to the imperial household. If you enjoy wealth while serving my bed, you must bear the responsibilities befitting it. I have no intention of letting you do nothing but kneel and amuse me.”

Words unfit for a noble mouth spilled forth.

Their vulgarity felt all the more jarring against his refinement.

Even the coarsest insults she had heard in the training grounds paled in comparison to a single phrase from Hector.

She had learned that crude language could be a weapon in a battle of wills.

If she faltered now, she would play into his hands.

Pressing her palm to her racing heart, Chloe struggled to steady herself.

“Even the honor of serving Your Majesty is more than I can bear. I am unqualified.”

“Unqualified in what sense?”

She had prepared her argument.

But at that moment, she hesitated.

Though the attendants had stepped back, she could not be certain whose ears might still be listening.