2.
‘In the novel, I am……. No, that can’t be!’
I refused to accept that I was the villain destined for such a miserable end.
It had to be a coincidence. While the name ‘Philomel’ wasn’t exactly common, it wasn’t unheard of, either. Even so, a cold knot of dread tightened in her chest; she had noticed, more than once, that the ‘Philomel’ in the book shared a hauntingly similar trajectory to her own life.
There was that anecdote about her childhood, included in the book to illustrate ‘Philomel’s’ inherent wickedness. In the story, Philomel loses a necklace gifted by her father and, fearing his wrath, frames a maid for the theft, leading to the girl’s execution.
A similar incident had actually occurred.
But she hadn’t intentionally framed the maid.
Philomel had genuinely believed the maid had taken it. The necklace had vanished, and since that maid was the last person to clean the room, she had simply jumped to the wrong conclusion. Later, when the maid’s innocence was proven, she was scolded severely by her nanny and had offered a sincere apology.
She hadn’t truly intended for the maid to die, either. Rummaging through her memories, she might have shrieked, “I’ll kill you!” but it was merely a outburst of childish temper.
It wasn’t an outright lie, but without the benefit of her inner thoughts or the aftermath, the novel painted her as a depraved villain.
“No. It’s just some outsider who heard hearsay and wrote it down as they pleased.”
Philomel shook her head, muttering under her breath to steady her nerves.
“Princess, I’m coming in.”
The nanny’s voice cut through the air outside the door.
“W-wait a second!”
She scrambled to the desk, shoving the novel into a drawer. If she were caught reading romance while under grounding, she would be subjected to an interminable lecture.
“You weren’t slacking off instead of studying again, were you?”
The nanny pushed the door open without waiting for permission, her sharp eyes scanning the room.
“Slacking off? Not at all! I was studying properly.”
She pointed to the thick history book on her desk, but the suspicious woman only approached after circling the room a few more times.
“Please, try to grow up, at least now. If you keep causing trouble, Princess, the ones who suffer are us—the ones serving you.”
“Ugh….”
The nagging began.
The nanny was the only person, aside from the Emperor, who dared to treat her without restraint. She had been the late Empress’s nanny, and while she had never actually breastfed Philomel, the title remained. The Empress had relied on her like a mother, bringing her into the palace upon her marriage. Eustis, respecting his wife’s final wishes, had granted the nanny total authority over his daughter’s upbringing. Since he remained indifferent to the girl, the nanny held complete control over Philomel’s life.
“His Majesty specifically instructed me to ensure that the Princess’s bad habits are corrected once and for all this time.”
“Tch. Liar.”
Eustis wasn’t the type to concern himself with his daughter’s discipline. However, the nanny knew the tactic worked, so she had long manipulated Philomel by wielding the Emperor’s name like a weapon. She would promise dinner with him if Philomel aced her etiquette lessons, or a visit to his office if she earned a perfect score. Yet, once the conditions were met, the nanny would offer endless excuses to delay the reward. It wasn’t until dozens of these broken promises that Philomel realized she had been deceived. It was the nanny’s schemes that had finally crushed her interest in her lessons.
“What did you just say? ‘A lie!’ It is a bad habit to doubt people’s words. Do I truly need to use the rod of love?”
Having had her motives exposed, the nanny made a show of indignation, her movements exaggerated.
“Fine, I get it. I’ll be careful from now on.”
Philomel lowered her head. Despite her age, the woman was sturdy and strong. She didn’t often resort to physical punishment, but the threat was terrifying enough to a young girl.
“I certainly hope so. Honestly, I wonder who you take after. Lady Isabella was so sensible even at that age….”
She had heard it until her ears bled, but today, the reminder that she didn’t resemble her mother stung with renewed intensity.
“Nanny….”
“Yes?”
“Do I really not look like my mother at all?”
Philomel asked cautiously.
“Yes. Surprisingly so. Lady Isabella was clever, mature, and yet sometimes innocent, even from a young age….”
It was the nanny’s favorite pastime to chip away at Philomel’s self-esteem by comparing her to the deceased Empress. Today, the nagging felt like a confirmation of the book’s claim that she wasn’t a ‘true’ princess, and her mood plummeted.
“So, you must behave yourself on the day of the Foundation Day festival….”
Philomel, who had been letting the words wash over her, opened her eyes wide at the mention of the event.
“Foundation Day?”
“You weren’t listening, were you?”
“Can I participate in the Foundation Day festival?”
“Of course. Since it is a national event, it has been arranged for you to be released from your grounding temporarily.”
Foundation Day. The Foundation Day when she was nine. It was a term she remembered from the book.
After the nanny left, Philomel pulled out *Princess Ellensia* and scanned the beginning.
‘Found it.’
She was looking for the passage where the protagonist, Ellensia, planned to attend the Foundation Day festival. Since Ellensia was the same age as her, this had to be the one. In the book, a torrential downpour caused the festival to be postponed, and Ellensia was unable to attend.
She remembered scoffing at that plot point; it made no sense. The date of the Foundation Day was determined by divine oracle each year. The Empire’s most renowned meteorological mages had conducted extensive research, concluding there was no possibility of rain. Moreover, in the book, a High Priest collapsed, which delayed the festivities for an entire week.
“That’s what I thought. It really is just fiction.”
Why would a healthy High Priest suddenly collapse?
Her mood improved significantly. All she had to do was confirm the sunny weather on the day of the festival, and her mind would be at ease. Once the festival concluded safely, she would take this book to her father and demand the author be punished for their insolence.
Philomel smiled and closed the book.
***
It should have been like that, of course…….
Philomel, dressed in her finest gown, stared blankly at the thick, relentless raindrops.
“……Your Majesty, it seems we must postpone the event to a later date.”
The Emperor’s secretary, clearly out of his depth, reported to Eustis. They hadn’t even been able to step into the outdoor venue prepared in the imperial courtyard, and were currently huddled for shelter under the eaves of a memorial hall. The official in charge of the event was sweating profusely, stammering that this was an unrecorded, freak downpour.
“Understood. Postpone the event. Set a new date and report back to me.”
At the Emperor’s command, the gathered royals and nobles began to prepare their exit.
‘Is it really going to be postponed just like this? Just like in the novel?’
Her world turned dark. A novel must remain a novel. It could never become reality. If it did, then she truly was… just a villain in someone else’s story.
“No! You cannot postpone it!”
Philomel shouted before she could stop herself, dashing out from under the roof.
“Your Highness! You cannot do that!”
Attendants tried to catch the rain-soaked Princess, but Philomel ran frantically, stopping only when she stood before Eustis. She looked up at him, her voice trembling with desperation.
“Father.”
A faint crease appeared on Eustis’s handsome brow.
“Please, I beg you. Do not postpone the Foundation Day festival. Please?”
“…….”
“You can hold the commemorative address inside the memorial hall. Let’s proceed as scheduled.”
The crowd, flustered by the Princess’s outburst, fell into a tense silence, eyes darting between the father and daughter.
“I’m begging you. Please…….”
Philomel’s eyes welled with moisture, the line between rainwater and tears blurring.
“……Princess, you cannot do that. Please, maintain your dignity.”
One of her maids whispered to her, but Philomel knew it was an absurd request. Belerov was an empire founded under the protection of the Sun God; the festival only held meaning under the scorching sun. She knew that better than anyone.
‘But, but…….’
“Let’s go.”
The Emperor’s gaze, which had been fixed on Philomel, was withdrawn instantly.
“But, Your Highness….”
As the secretary, Count Polan, hesitated, Eustis turned his gaze to the crowd.
“Must I listen to every tantrum of a child? Am I to be delayed by someone who simply wants to see a party?”
The crowd held their breath at the cold anger radiating beneath those blue eyes. Many knew that, despite his beauty, the Emperor was as cruel as a devil. It was rumored he had assassinated his own brothers to ascend the throne.
“Let’s go.”
Eustis turned around, his cloak swirling behind him. The attendees began to follow, each glancing at the Princess standing alone in the pouring rain. None dared to speak to her. There was no benefit in siding with a princess who was clearly falling out of the Emperor’s favor.