Chapter 12
Make a Strong First Impression
With Haon’s public humiliation complete, Princess Phirione’s grooming was finally finished.
For the first time in a while, Princess Phirione left her secluded palace and headed toward the main palace. Her attendants, led by Anten, followed closely behind.
“Haon.”
As Haon tried to stay behind in the princess’s room, Princess Phirione turned around. Caught spacing out, Haon snapped to attention and straightened her posture.
“Yes, Your Highness?”
“What are you doing?”
“…Pardon?”
“I asked why you’re just standing there stupidly instead of following.”
At her words, every attendant turned to stare at Haon.
Up until now, Haon had simply sung songs for Princess Phirione—a rather comfortable duty, all things considered. But in truth, she was the lowest of the lowest-ranked maids. The absolute bottom rung of the secluded palace. For someone like that to leave the palace and follow to a grand event like the imperial ball? It was utterly unthinkable.
Haon quickly grasped her situation through the sharp gazes of the other maids. Her eyes darted back and forth between Princess Phirione and the others. She was clearly in a bind.
“U-Um, Princess… Shouldn’t I stay behind in the secluded palace?”
“Come with me.”
But Phirione’s tone left no room for argument.
“The ball might be dull. I may want to hear you sing.”
“…Yes, Your Highness.”
Ah, so that’s your reason. Shoulders slumped, Haon joined the procession at the very end.
It wasn’t enough that she had to sing in front of the maids—now she was going to sing in front of the imperial court? The history of her public shaming was unfolding in real time.
Phirione’s procession made its way toward the main palace, which was incomparably more grand and ornate than the secluded one. Various other processions, identities unknown, also entered the palace.
Thanks to the boundless grace of Princess Phirione (?), Haon was permitted entry into the banquet hall. Normally, only the invitee and one or two personal maids were allowed inside. Yet Phirione had designated Anten and Haon as her official attendants.
Thus, Haon’s public humiliation at the imperial ball was now all but guaranteed.
As Haon followed behind Phirione, Anten leaned in and whispered:
“If you do anything to embarrass Her Highness, be prepared to have your head cut off.”
Don’t people usually say they’ll beat someone instead?
Not that Haon had time to reply. Anten, looking deadly serious, even mimed slicing her own neck with a horizontal gesture. It was a very clear threat.
“Understood,” Haon mumbled, her hand instinctively wrapping around her neck. In this world, the life of a lowly maid was worth less than nothing.
And so Haon stepped into the grand ballroom of the main palace.
She was wide-eyed, gaping at the lavish surroundings, while Princess Phirione held her head high, looking only straight ahead. She appeared entirely uninterested in her surroundings.
‘As expected of Her Highness—the poise, the commanding grace! Ugh, my princess is amazing!’
Though she usually just sat silently, today she exuded a dignified presence that didn’t pale even in the splendor of the imperial court. Haon could feel her inner fangirl squealing as she watched Phirione walk through the palace with regal composure. It was an honor to witness this moment with her own eyes.
She carefully observed every detail of Phirione’s appearance.
Her crimson eyes reflected the chandelier lights with a brilliant glint. Her lips, soft as flower petals, were closed in an expression that was neither quite a smile nor fully detached.
Her back was straight from neck to waist, hands gently clutching her gown in front of her hips. Glass slippers peeked from beneath the flowing dress, clacking against the marble floor.
Having left the secluded palace, Phirione now appeared even more composed and noble. Haon, watching her with awe, slowly shifted her gaze to take in the rest of the hall.
Massive chandeliers hung from the ceiling, each adorned with tiny decorative candles. In the center stood a grand stained-glass window with intricate carvings. Flanking it were windows and terrace doors spaced evenly across the walls.
The hall was already crowded. They must’ve been high-ranking nobles, invited by the Emperor himself.
They peered at Phirione from behind fans, over their shoulders, even through opera glasses.
“That must be the lady of Checoran…”
“Quite the presence…”
“I hear that red hair is a symbol of the Checoran royal line?”
“Certainly…”
The nobles of Heosen whispered amongst themselves.
‘I can hear you, you jerks!’
Haon had to suppress the urge to shout. If they wanted to gossip, they should at least lower their voices. Or if they were going to speak audibly, they might as well say it plainly. The ambiguous murmurs were maddening.
If Haon found this irritating, how must Princess Phirione feel?
Haon glanced at her. Her expression hadn’t changed. She still wore that composed, disinterested look, as though none of this mattered to her.
‘Is she really okay…?’
After accidentally witnessing one of Phirione’s episodes last time, Haon couldn’t help but worry more. The episode had felt oddly familiar.
‘It really looked like a panic attack.’
While Haon was focused solely on Phirione, most of the royal family had entered the hall, and the moment everyone had been waiting for arrived.
“His Majesty the Emperor and Her Majesty the Empress enter!”
A short attendant standing at the golden entrance bellowed the announcement.
Everyone bowed toward the entrance. In solemn silence, the Emperor and Empress of Heosen entered the hall.
The moment Haon dared to peek at the Emperor’s face, she instantly knew:
‘Long live the Empress! Long live the Imperial Consorts!’
She wanted to bow deeply to all the royal consorts, even the ones she hadn’t seen yet.
Unfortunately, in the novel The Queen of Thorned Roses, there had been no physical descriptions of the Emperor, Empress, or any of the imperial consorts. Only their children—Prince Si, Prince Di, and others—had received glowing portrayals and endless praise.
This had left Haon curious about just how beautiful their parents must be. That curiosity had driven her to risk execution by sneaking a glance at the Emperor.
But the Emperor’s face, which she had risked her life to see, was painfully average. No—beyond average. He looked like some sleazy, unemployed uncle from the neighborhood. If it weren’t for the extravagant crown on his head and the thick velvet cape on his shoulders, no one would’ve believed he was the Emperor.
‘Sure, you shouldn’t judge people by appearances, but this is just too much! The mighty Emperor of Heosen looks like a pathetic local bum?!’
Haon screamed internally.
If she had to find something redeeming, maybe it was his shiny blond bob. Or his sunken cheeks that made his eyes look even bigger. Or perhaps his painfully skinny frame, which was at least better than being overweight…
Any more commentary and she’d just be torturing herself.
Fortunately, the Empress had a magnificent and beautiful appearance, just as one might expect of the next generation’s mother. The same likely went for the other consorts as well.
At least the Emperor’s weak genes hadn’t shown up in the next generation.
‘Well… maybe except for the blond hair?’
His golden hair really was his one redeeming feature. Beyond that… let’s not speak further.
While Haon was still reeling from the Emperor’s face, the Emperor and Empress took their places on the highest platform, and the opening address for the ball concluded. The orchestra stationed in the back began to play, snapping Haon back to reality. Anten was glaring at her like she wanted to kill her.
“What are you spacing out for? Your only duty is to serve Princess Phirione—don’t forget that.”
“N-no, I wasn’t… Understood.”
Haon shut her mouth, unable to explain. What was she supposed to say—that she was shocked by the Emperor’s face? She didn’t want to lose her head. So instead, she resigned herself to being just another dazzled country bumpkin in the grand ballroom.
Anten straightened her back, lowered her gaze modestly, and clasped her hands together, the picture of a model maid. Her eyes, though lowered, tracked Phirione’s every move. Haon followed suit, mimicking her posture behind her.
The orchestra’s music filled the hall.
The ball began casually. Nobles exchanged greetings, and some were already inviting each other to dance.
Phirione simply stood still, yet all eyes remained fixed on her.
‘I can’t breathe.’
Even just standing behind her, Haon felt like her chest was being crushed.
All those stares—none of them seemed kind. It was like watching a caged animal on display. The fans, the hushed conversations—they all seemed directed at Phirione. Haon’s ears perked at every whisper.
‘If I feel like this… what about Her Highness…?’
She glanced at Phirione. Her face was still fixed in that pale, mask-like smile.
After a while, Phirione finally spoke.
“This is terribly boring. I’d rather go to the terrace and hear you sing.”
She didn’t turn, but the words were clearly meant for Haon. Haon was about to eagerly agree—but stopped.
Wait. Wasn’t today the day Phirione was supposed to formally meet the other princes? If they left for the terrace now and stayed there too long, they might miss the chance entirely.
“Um, Your Highness? Already? Perhaps you might enjoy the ball a little longer…”
“You talk too much. When your princess gives an order, all you have to do is obey.”
Anten interrupted coldly. Haon felt frustrated—how could she explain?
“I didn’t mean to disobey… I just thought… maybe if you stayed, you might meet someone meaningful—?”
“Didn’t Her Highness say she’s bored?”
Anten scolded her sharply, stepping in as the princess’s spokesperson. Haon flailed, unable to say more.
“Oh my!”
A high-pitched voice rang out, clearly directed toward Phirione.
Nice timing! The plot hadn’t abandoned its protagonist after all. Long live main storyline intervention!
Haon turned her head eagerly to welcome this new character. But at the next words, her expression crumbled.
“Are you not the infamous young lady of Checoran? I’ve finally had the pleasure of seeing you in person.”
