Chapter 100
In the Imperial Princess's palace, a salon is held once a week.
It is a time when a dozen or so young ladies and noblewomen gather for intimate conversation and tea.
What dresses are in fashion these days, what happened in some other house, what some family's son did, and so on.
They chew over, tear apart, taste, and enjoy worthless gossip.
But lately, it had begun to take on a new form.
"…Therefore, the fall of the ancient kingdom can be said to have been an inevitable result of the ruling class's moral decay and the contradictions of its land system."
"A truly excellent insight, Baroness Bren. I too was deeply moved by that line from the philosopher Voltaire."
It was a book club.
A social venue where they read books and share their impressions with one another, showing off their intellect and refinement.
They read abstruse philosophy texts or epic poems about the continent's history, and spout academic terms that are hard to understand.
It was a means of subtly displaying a family's prestige and intellectual vanity.
But that only lasted a moment.
Academic discussions that make your head spin and your eyelids droop the moment you hear them don't last long.
"Phew, ancient history is heavy and profound no matter when you read it. The tea is just right too, so why don't we set the headache-inducing talk aside here?"
Someone casually broached the subject.
That was the signal.
"...Maybe?"
"That's a good idea. I was just thinking we should freshen up the mood anyway."
The bored young lady's eyes sharpened.
The noblewoman who had been yawning behind her fan now wore a look of eager anticipation.
Once you peel away the veneer of refinement, they were no different from women anywhere else in the world.
A political marriage for the sake of family gain.
A marriage where duty remained but affection had vanished.
Weary of their barren daily lives, noblewomen longed for romantic love stories more than anyone.
They were thirsting for sweet emotion rather than hard, cold reason.
That was why.
Romance novels had become the most popular theme in this reading circle.
As soon as the thick hardcover was pushed to the corner of the table, beautifully decorated books spilled out.
"Miss Blanche. I read the <Starlight Lake Forget-Me-Not> you wrote last week."
"For Your Ladyship to read it—I'm deeply honored."
Gwen Blanche, one of the salon members, was renowned in literary circles as a popular author.
Her signature soft style portrayed the pure, unwavering love between man and woman, without sensationalism or harsh conflict.
Her works captivated not only the Empire, but ladies in other kingdoms as well.
"A chaste love story between a princess and a knight—my heart fluttered so much I couldn't sleep a wink."
"Oh my, you too, Madam? I nearly wiped away tears at the part where the male lead kneels, offering his sword only to the heroine."
"A romance with a devoted knight is a theme that moves the heart no matter how many times you read it."
The voices that had just moments ago been discussing difficult terminology in a prim manner were nowhere to be found.
The excited young ladies folded their fans aside and continued their heated discussion, cheeks flushed.
"These days, stories of students' first love set in academies are also in vogue. I've been trying my hand at one as a hobby lately."
"The freshness that only youth can create is such a delicacy. Ah, I should have experienced a love like that too."
The topic filling the salon was all harmless, beautiful fantasies.
Whispers sweet as cotton candy melting away. Trust that never changes no matter the hardship.
And a happy ending where everyone smiles.
This salon in the Imperial Princess's palace, of course, and in most places, was a winning formula welcomed with open arms.
"Come to think of it, Your Imperial Highness."
In the middle of a passionate discussion, the subject turned to Aurora.
"You mentioned last week that you were writing something new. Is it going well?"
At those words, the warm chatter abruptly stopped.
Aurora's novel was somewhat famous in the reading circle.
In a bad way.
Kidnappings were always in it, the crime scenes were inexplicably detailed, and it always ended badly.
It had nothing at all to do with romance.
They shot her looks, as if asking why she was bringing up something so pointless.
The questioner, realizing the mistake too late, hurriedly set down the teacup and began to make excuses.
"Ah, that is to say! Since Your Highness is so busy, I only meant that you don't need to force yourself to finish it."
"That's right, Your Highness. Just having you attend like this is an honor for us."
"Indeed, indeed."
The others, too, hurried to stop Aurora.
But unlike their bloodless faces, Aurora's expression was more leisurely and arrogant than ever.
"There's no need to worry. I've already finished it."
"Ah…."
Aurora made a light gesture in the air.
At her instruction, the steward began handing each participant one item at a time.
It was a makeshift booklet hastily recopied and bound overnight with dozens of scribes.
"It's rather thin."
"I only wrote the beginning. I'm still planning the rest."
Everyone secretly breathed a sigh of relief.
They couldn't very well refuse a novel written by the princess, and they also couldn't pretend not to have read it.
But at this length, it was something they could read with their eyes shut.
"The title is 'The Terminally Ill Young Lady Announces Her Divorce'?"
A strange sentence with not even a shred of refinement to be found.
It was an extremely odd title.
Aurora smiled faintly.
"I put a lot of effort into it, so I hope everyone will take it home and read it."
***
"Welcome back, young lady."
A maid greeted Gwen Blanche, who had returned to the manor after the reading circle.
"Did you enjoy the gathering?"
"More or less."
"I'll help you get your bath ready."
"I'll stop by the study for a moment first."
Gwen entered the study and collapsed into a chair.
She loosened the corset cinching her waist and sank deeply into the backrest.
"Haa……"
Her hand, kneading her stiff neck, was heavy with exhaustion.
The salon at the Imperial Princess's palace was considered the Empire's foremost social venue.
But for Gwen, it was a grueling workplace that demanded enormous amounts of energy.
She had an introverted nature that loved shutting herself away in a corner and just idly twirling a pen far more than interacting with others.
It was no easy thing to heap on insincere praise and constantly cater to noblewomen's ever-changing moods.
Even so, Gwen attended the salon for a simple reason.
'There's nothing for it if I want to revive the family.'
The only weapon granted to the landless, penniless Blanche baron family.
It was the romance novels born from Gwen's pen.
The word of mouth of the princess and noblewomen at the very top of imperial society had a reach greater than any advertisement.
Especially since, thanks to catching the eye of a marchioness, she could even sell books through a major trading company with that lady's help.
By now, she had become a popular author whose name everyone knew.
'Just a little more.'
'I just need to suffer until I become the Empire's top novelist.'
Not much left now.
Gwen soothed her swelling ambition and let out a long breath.
Then something suddenly came to mind.
"Ah, right. Her Imperial Highness's new work..."
Gwen took a thin booklet out of her bag.
<The Terminally Ill Young Lady Announces Her Divorce>
Even looking at it again, the title was alien.
In that instant, old memories flashed through Gwen's mind: the crime novel Aurora had forced her to read.
Aurora herself called it romance, but no one else regarded it as such.
She's fine as a person, but as a writer, she's a total flop.
'I wonder what bizarre power struggle tale she wrote this time.'
She didn't want to read it, but if she wanted to squeeze out praise at the next gathering, she at least had to read the first few pages.
Gwen opened the first page with the feeling of carrying out an unavoidable duty.
***
"Why isn't the young lady here?"
"Who knows? She said she'd stop by the study first."
A few of the servants at the Blanche manor exchanged puzzled looks as they spoke.
Soaking in the tub while planning the next installment was a daily routine Gwen never skipped.
And yet Gwen, who had said she'd just stop by the study for a moment, still hadn't appeared.
"Maybe something happened? Should I go to the study?"
"What if she's writing? You know how sensitive she is about being interrupted. We'll definitely get scolded."
"Still, just in case..."
A worried maid went to the study. She cautiously knocked on the door.
"Um, young lady? The bath is ready, but..."
"……"
There was no response.
Being a writer was a profession notorious for short lifespans.
Afraid she might have collapsed, the maid gently opened the door.
"Young lady...?"
Gwen was sitting at the desk. Seeing that she was moving, it was a relief—she wasn't dead.
But the room was a mess.
Sheets of paper scattered everywhere.
It was the book the princess had handed over. The manuscript, broken down into loose sheets, covered the entire room.
Gwen was hunched over the desk, glaring at the paper from so close her nose seemed about to touch it.
"This is ridiculous. How could... how could someone who wrote such lousy third-rate crime dramas write something like this...?"
It was not writing imbued with literary sophistication. The sentences and vocabulary were utterly ordinary.
And yet, for some reason, she found herself absorbing the text in a trance.
With every scene she read, bursts of stimulation flashed endlessly in her mind.
After reading it, her head felt blank, as if she had just stepped out of the novel for a moment.
But Gwen snapped back to her senses immediately. She fixed a cold stare on the words.
"This kind of thing, this kind of thing isn't literature!"
What spilled out next was rage.
The prose is vulgar.
So vulgar it was embarrassing even to say aloud.
A composition that is blindly devoted only to stimulation.
It was just trash fit for commoners or alleyway vagrants.
To think the princess wrote something like that.
Gwen, who had spent her whole life enjoying nothing but flawless, polished literature, felt a physiological revulsion.
At the same time, an ominous feeling crept over her. What if this novel was more fun than her own?
'No. There's no way something like this could work.'
But she immediately denied it vehemently.
This was the social world of the imperial capital, where only the most noble and elegant women in the Empire gathered.
People who prided themselves on their refined tastes would never be seduced by such tasteless, blatant stimulation.
They would surely all say in unison that it was indecent.
Surely.
"Phew..."
Gwen barely managed to wring out a sigh of relief.
Calming her body and mind, which had been thrashing out of control, she gathered up the papers strewn across the floor.
Something this horrific.
I won't ever take it out again.
Just as she was thinking that and about to shove it deep into a drawer.
'...So what happens to Isabella? She can't possibly die so meaninglessly like this, can she?'
Unable to resist its suspiciously addictive pull, she pulled it back out and started reading it again.