Episode 4
“Her Majesty the Empress Lobelia is truly… impressive.”
The sharp remark caused Lobelia’s hand, midair with a teacup, to freeze.
It happened one afternoon during a tea gathering. The words pierced through the polite silence among the high-ranking noblewomen who had been invited to the imperial tea party hosted by the Empress herself. The speaker was Lady Hellenia Arsène—a widow, but one who had inherited her late husband’s title of Grand Duke. She was the queen bee among noblewomen, the undisputed leader of their social circle.
Though recently overshadowed by the rise of Mademoiselle Daisy, there was a time when Hellenia had been the unrivaled star of high society. She was infamous not only for her social prowess but also for her scandalous reputation—as the mistress of Duke Verdette.
While Duke Verdette did have a legal wife, it was common knowledge that he and Hellenia were entangled in a long-standing, illicit liaison. An ambitious man seeking higher power, and a lonely but influential widow—a pair whose arrogance could reach the heavens.
And arrogant they were, both of them.
Lobelia slowly lifted her gaze to meet the shrill voice’s source. Hellenia’s appearance was strikingly flamboyant for a woman of her age—far more ostentatious than Lobelia herself, who was, after all, the hostess of the gathering.
She seemed eager for a response, her eyes gleaming, her painted red lips twitching, her body shifting restlessly with anticipation. Lobelia could already guess the words that were about to follow wouldn’t be kind—but seeing how desperately Hellenia wanted to say them, she allowed her a silent invitation: Go ahead, say your piece. Her look was that of benevolent indulgence as she finally spoke.
“What is it you find so impressive, Madame Hellenia?”
“It’s rare enough to marry once in a lifetime… but you’ve managed the difficult feat twice, haven’t you?”
Did she think such words would hurt her or provoke anger? Hellenia lifted her teacup smugly, satisfied that she’d finally voiced what she wanted to say.
“And is that why you’ve delayed your second marriage, Hellenia?”
Pfft—cough, cough! Hrk!
Choking on her tea, Hellenia coughed violently, clearly caught off guard. She dabbed her mouth hastily with a handkerchief, her face turning crimson.
“W-what are you implying?”
“Am I wrong? I heard you have a lover…”
With the face of someone who knew nothing of the world, Lobelia turned her innocent gaze toward each of the noblewomen, who stifled their giggles—tiny, restrained noises: pfft, snrk, heehee. Yet Hellenia, whose ears were apparently sharp, turned her head swiftly to glare at each whisperer.
“Your first marriage was, from what I hear, quite difficult. A young woman married off to a man past his prime, enduring all kinds of hardship. I merely wondered if your lover is the reason you’re delaying a second marriage. Out of sympathy.”
“…Your Majesty!”
“And yet, who is this lover that no one dares to speak his name aloud?”
“…Please, enough.”
“Why? Wasn’t it you who sought my counsel?”
“…”
“Well, speaking as someone who has been married twice, I’ll give you one piece of advice: it’s not all it’s cracked up to be. Unlike you, my first husband is still very much alive. And my second husband? He doesn’t seem content remaining a mere lover.”
At Lobelia’s calm and composed reply, Hellenia clenched her jaw, her expression souring as her eyes darkened. Lobelia, ever magnanimous, was willing to overlook such pride—but that didn’t mean she’d let her off easily.
“Frankly, it’s exhausting. These men—they’re all so childish and the same. I don’t plan on marrying a third time.”
“…”
“That was a joke. Ho ho.”
Only then did the other ladies begin to chuckle nervously in awkward imitation. Hellenia, however, maintained a stony face for the rest of the tea party—speaking to no one, smiling at nothing, making no attempt to hide her wounded pride.
Lobelia occasionally glanced her way, teasingly.
“Are you feeling unwell?”
“My stomach feels… unsettled.”
“Oh dear, shall I summon the court physician?”
“…Pardon? No, that’s unnecessary.”
“But what if it’s… that? At first, I too thought it was just a bit of indigestion.”
Like a dolphin batting around a puffed-up pufferfish, amused by its own poisonous game.
Gasps rippled through the noblewomen. They turned to Hellenia with half-shocked, half-horrified expressions. Surely not…? Hellenia, embarrassed by their gazes, snapped:
“That’s not the case!”
And yet, she found herself forced to explain.
“Oh? Then never mind.”
“…”
“New life forming inside you—it really is miraculous. Unlike humans, dragons don’t conceive that way. That’s why I find humans so curious. So fragile in appearance, and yet so complex in how they bond and persist. Perhaps it’s because of that… humans can be so arrogant. And still, they’re hard to hate.”
Lobelia could no longer afford to be underestimated. It would be foolish to allow herself to be belittled any further. She reminded herself of the strength now surging within her—dragon strength. No longer a fragile human, she had the power to destroy not just this gathering, but the entire empire if she so wished.
As she turned her sharp gaze upon the noblewomen—particularly Hellenia—her eyes seemed to say:
Do not forget. You and I are not the same. Even if I wear a human face, I am not to be trifled with.
Once, she had fled from every confrontation, a coward who dared not assert her authority. But no longer.
Now I must change. I must break free from that wretched cycle.
She was seeking transformation.
What the consequences of that change would be—even she could not yet say. But one thing was certain: she no longer feared humans.
As soon as that stifling, empty, and utterly pointless tea party ended, I made my way briskly out of the greenhouse. Someone must’ve followed me, for I heard a voice behind me.
“Are you going to see the Crown Prince, Your Majesty?”
“He still clings to his mother’s side—it’s only natural.”
“Perhaps he senses a separation coming and seeks to cling harder?”
I halted and turned to see who had spoken. She wasn’t one of the noblewomen from the gathering. Her mocking tone reminded me of Hellenia’s, but there was a deeper knowing behind it.
“…Prima?”
Prima smiled brightly and curtsied with mock elegance, lifting the hem of her dress in mimicry of human ladies. It was comically ill-suited to her. And yet, the look in her eyes sobered quickly.
“If your memories had fully returned and you were still pretending otherwise, I wouldn’t have let it go, Rimenia.”
“Why are you here?”
“A dragon can go wherever she pleases—so long as she hasn’t foolishly shackled herself, like someone I know.”
There was no mistaking that jab was aimed at me. I stared at her blankly for a moment. It had been so long since I’d seen her—my kin.
Prima frowned, clearly unimpressed with my dazed reaction.
“What are you doing? Let’s move somewhere less visible before gossiping tongues start wagging.”
“Leroy is waiting for me.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. That little brat can handle himself. Arabell’s watching him. There’s no danger.”
“Arabell’s here too?”
“Yes, she is. Why? Afraid someone might see through your real feelings?”
“…If anything, I wish someone would reveal them to me.”
Prima rolled her eyes, exasperated.
“Oh, forget it. What was I expecting from you? Two hundred years, and you haven’t changed a bit. That vacant face, that empty stare… it’s tragic that you are my successor.”
“You haven’t changed either, Prima. Not one bit.”
“And still you never let me win an argument.”
“Well, that’s what being a dragon is, isn’t it?”
Two hundred years. For a dragon, not long, not short—just another part of the flowing river of time. Humans age, learn, grow, and are shaped by their experiences. A newborn eventually learns language, manners, how to coexist with others.
But dragons?
From the moment we hatch and become fully formed in mere moments, we are complete. There is no growing up. We are born with everything—and so to human eyes, dragons can seem childlike, wise, kind, cruel—all at once.
…Who said that, again?
Someone had once told me those words. A long time ago. Prima must have noticed I was lost in thought; one of her eyebrows arched upward.
“Hmm. So you haven’t remembered everything yet?”
“What?”
Was there more I was supposed to recall?
“Aside from the tangled memories of 200 years… there’s something far more important you need to remember.”
Prima smiled coldly.
“The curse, Rimenia. The one you cast. That twisted, monstrous curse.”
