The Court’s Heavy Silence

Ophelia stepped into the palace once more.

Not much time had passed since her last visit, yet the atmosphere had shifted entirely. Even the earlier incident hadn’t carried such gravity. Now, the air itself seemed to have congealed into something tangible, pressing down on everyone until they could scarcely breathe.

Only Eli appeared unbothered, inexplicably cheerful. He kept casting her glances that felt oddly playful, as if he were savoring some private joke.

‘Is he up to something again?’

A flicker of wariness stirred within Ophelia.

She took her seat at the head of the hall, surveying the somber-faced nobles below. Then she spotted someone she hadn’t seen in a long time: Delores.

Delores still carried herself like a leader—yellow hair, lips painted red, draped in a black mink coat, her legs sheathed in stockings and tall leather boots. But her usual brashness had dimmed. She looked lost in thought, as though wrestling with something.

‘She seems… troubled.’

“Miss Delores, it’s been a while. Are you feeling better?”

Perhaps because they had grown somewhat familiar, or because the oppressive atmosphere unsettled her, or simply because she knew so few people here and one had been absent far too long—as a gentle, socially anxious soul, Ophelia couldn’t help but reach out.

The nobles were taken aback.

In their eyes, the queen was already a figure to be wary of. Her image had shifted; she always wore a veil, her expression unreadable, rarely speaking. They saw her as deeply calculating.

A frightening, wicked woman!

Far from a shy, sweet girl who dreaded social interaction!

Yet now the enigmatic queen had spoken first to Delores?

Delores was the rising star of the reformist faction. This could only mean one thing: reform was imminent, likely after the war. Was the queen signaling her endorsement?

The conservatives’ hearts clenched.

They loathed reform with every fiber of their being.

If reform passed, commoners would gain rights, prostitution would become illegal, slavery would follow, and military farms would encroach on their lands. Their income would shrink—and with it, their capacity for debauchery!

So, yes.

Today, they must follow Prince Eli and overthrow the queen! If not topple her, then at least shake her foundations! Reform must not succeed!

Delores herself seemed startled.

She looked at the queen, her gaze unexpectedly tender. But then she glanced back, catching sight of Vina’s cold, penetrating stare from the shadows.

She lowered her head, hiding the conflict in her eyes.

“Your Majesty, my health has recovered. Thank you for your concern.”

Ophelia nodded.

“You still seem troubled. Make sure to rest properly. Would you like one of the royal healers to attend to you?”

Delores’s heart leaped.

‘Can she see my pain?!’

She looked up again. Her senses had been sharpened—she could perceive the eyes behind the veil.

What gentle eyes they were…

And yet, this gentle-eyed woman had been thrust onto the stage, solely because of Vina’s so-called love. But Delores scoffed at that love.

Love, she believed, was not about taking—it was about giving everything for the other.

Vina’s was merely possession.

Since it was only possession, it meant Vina loved herself, using the queen as a tool to satisfy her own desires. This was possessiveness, not love.

‘So, my queen, I will save you. Together, we will realize our dreams. We will bring prosperity to all.’

“Your Majesty, I assure you, I am fully recovered. In two or three days, my illness will be completely gone. Please don’t worry.”

“I am deeply honored by Your Majesty’s concern.”

Ophelia nodded again.

Since she was fine, there was nothing to worry about.

Vina stepped forward.

“Now that everyone is here, let us begin the meeting. Today’s agenda covers the allocation of resources for the upcoming war, as well as the threat of heretical cultists in the capital.”

‘I don’t know anything about this either…’

Ophelia closed her eyes. When she opened them again, they were cold and rational.

“Wake me when you discuss the heretics,” she said.

[Understood, host.] the system replied.

“The Empire’s war is nothing to worry about,” a noble scoffed. “It’s just a human civil war; the sages will intervene anyway. We can just fight half-heartedly and let them solve everything.”

His words sparked immediate agreement.

“Exactly! We have War Knights and Paladins, plus the Magic Division. That should tide us over until the sages step in, right?”

“The nobility doesn’t need to send troops or funds. Let the War Knights handle it—that’s their job. Use the treasury’s money and weapons, not ours.”

Voices erupted in a cacophony of debate.

****

Far away, at the heart of the Snow Empire, lay a city where no snow fell. Instead, torrential rain poured endlessly. It was called the Rainy City.

Luca stared at the crystal ball before him. It was broadcasting the kingdom’s council meeting live. He watched intently, absorbing every detail.

“What’s this?” a voice came from behind.

Luca started, nearly drawing his sword. He turned to find the Empress gazing at the crystal ball with keen interest.

“Your Majesty, this is one of my magical artifacts. I am using it to observe the kingdom’s council in real time, allowing me to adjust our military strategy and marching routes.”

The Empress frowned.

“The kingdom surely has anti-scrying wards. How are you seeing this?”

Luca shrugged.

“Simple. Many nobles there value their own survival and family legacy above national survival. Find one of them, give him the other crystal ball to bring into the council, and I can watch everything from here.”

The Empress nodded.

She reached out, and Luca quickly offered the crystal ball with both hands. She took it and began watching.

“Is the one in the veil their queen?”

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

She sat down, propping her head on one hand, eyes fixed on the orb.

“Hoh. These nobles are desperately trying to guilt-trip and obstruct each other to avoid sending troops.”

“If it were me, I’d kill them all. But she can’t, can she?”

Her vacant eyes reflected the image in the crystal ball—Ophelia’s figure.

“Luca, I’m keeping this. You don’t mind, do you?”

“Of course not,” Luca replied.

His heart bled. He had spent hundreds of thousands of gold coins at an auction to acquire it, and now he’d have to live on bread and water. And after barely getting a chance to use it, it was taken away.

“You may go,” the Empress waved.

‘I spent a fortune and you won’t even let me watch!’

“Yes, Your Majesty. I’ll take my leave.” He bowed and exited.

The Empress paid him no heed. She focused entirely on the scene in the crystal ball.

‘Let me see, Ophelia.’

‘Such is the nature of all living beings—each acts for their own benefit, no exceptions. That’s why everyone looks the same to me. Boring.’

‘Will you be the same, or will you show me a soul I’ve never seen before?’

‘I hope you surprise me, Queen of the Kingdom. I hope you prove worthy of conquest. Don’t let this war and victory feel as hollow as they always do.’

‘Just once, let me savor the thrill of life. Let me feel that I am still… human.’