Episode 6. Even If I Become the Crazy Lady of the District (4)
The imperial crest with wings wasn’t inspired by a dragon’s flight—but by a dragon’s curse. When Emperor Alendra defeated the dragon, it was said that the curse would haunt the Alendra Reinos family until their bloodline was completely extinguished.
The child of the royal family who inherited this curse would be born with overwhelming power they couldn’t even control themselves—and would die because of it. And indeed, many crown princes died mysterious deaths afterward.
However, it was also foretold that if an emperor capable of mastering the curse were ever born, they would possess the power of revival—able to restore even the barren wastelands.
But over time, as no more royal deaths occurred, it was believed the dragon’s curse had run its course. From that point on, the explanation for the wings in the imperial crest was officially updated in the revised edition of The History of the Empire.
In other words, Elvia hadn’t read the revised edition yet—so she didn’t know.
“You’re wrong, Lady Elvia. Please read the revised edition of The History of the Empire thoroughly.”
Elika’s tone was as cold as a strict teacher’s, and soon, tears welled up in Elvia’s eyes. She didn’t bawl like a child, but her lips trembled, and her shoulders quivered as she tried to hold back her sobs.
Eventually, the questioning continued with the other noble ladies, and they all gave safe and acceptable answers.
“You all saw the grand fountain in the plaza on your way in, right? Lady Vanity, can you tell us the real name of the Reinos Imperial Fountain and why it was built so magnificently?”
The fountain’s true name was The Brave Women. When Emperor Alendra fought the dragon, ordinary women rushed onto the battlefield, handing out gunpowder and weapons to the soldiers—only to be turned to ashes by the dragon’s breath.
The fountain had been built in their honor. But over time, people forgot its original name and simply called it the “Imperial Fountain” or “the biggest fountain in the empire.”
Anyway, I knew the answer—but I had to get it wrong. And not just a little wrong—completely foolishly wrong.
“It’s the Big Wish Fountain.”
“…Why do you think so, Lady?” Elika asked, after a pause.
Not just “Wish Fountain,” but Big Wish Fountain? My answer sounded like something a child would make up. I was practically spewing nonsense.
“People usually make wishes at fountains. And since this one is the biggest in the empire, I thought maybe you could wish for something even bigger here. So I figured it might be called the Big Wish Fountain.”
Even I couldn’t believe what I was saying. What was this, a fairytale?
Despite my ridiculous answer, the Empress still wore an unreadable smile. Elika, on the other hand, looked at me as if to say this wasn’t some kind of talent show for children.
Don’t just look at me like that—hurry up and give me a zero.
“Thank you for your answers regarding imperial history, ladies. We will now begin the official examination for selecting the Crown Princess candidate. The test will be conducted under individual supervision. Please enter your assigned examination rooms.”
It was called an “exam room,” but it was really just a small, sunlit receiving room. Each noble lady would answer questions asked by a handmaiden of the Empress. There were no “right” answers. The handmaiden would record our responses and submit them to the Empress, who would then carefully review them to find the wisest lady with the qualities of a Crown Princess.
“May the grace of Hanos, god of glory and victory, be with you all.”
“We are deeply honored, Your Majesty.”
As we headed to our rooms, the Empress met each of our eyes and brought her hands together in a blessing.
As before, my supervisor was Countess Elika. I recalled the last time I took this test, I had been deathly pale. Like a swan gliding gracefully across a lake while paddling frantically beneath the surface—I had tried to appear calm, though I was shaking inside.
“Shall we begin, Lady Vanity?”
“Yes.”
As soon as I entered the room, I leaned back in the chair and made myself as comfortable as possible. Elika raised her eyebrows at me and sighed.
“Your posture is inappropriate. Please correct it. I hope you’re aware that this isn’t your personal room.”
“My back hurts.”
“Then I’ll call the royal physician to administer an injection.”
I sat up immediately. Knowing Elika’s personality, she really would give me a shot if I didn’t behave.
Countess Elika was good at handling people. That’s probably why she was held in such high regard by the Empress.
Still, since I was stuck in this situation where I had to keep annoying Elika, I had to do something. So I started shaking my leg. I shook it so much that the entire table nearly rattled.
As expected, Elika’s brow furrowed into a sharp trident. Her expression twisted in displeasure, like she’d never seen anything so inappropriate in her life.
“What do you think you’re doing, Lady Vanity?”
“Oh, sorry. I have this habit of shaking my leg…”
“Lady! Stop that rude behavior at once!”
Now she really looked mad.
“I-I’m sorry. It’s a hard habit to break…”
I kept rattling my leg and talking nonsense, and finally, Elika stood up abruptly.
“Do I need to give you a shot to make you stop?!”
At that point, I figured I’d succeeded in annoying her enough, so I stopped shaking my leg. Elika’s expression quickly relaxed.
“When is your birthday, Lady Vanity?”
“December 12th.”
“A child born on the day stars are born.”
“Yes.”
“Do you remember what you did on your eighth birthday?”
The exact same question—down to the wording. I didn’t even remember when I was eight. Why did Elika always ask things like this?
“Do you remember what you did on your eighth birthday, Countess?”
She always asked me such mundane questions. In the past, I had answered them sincerely and thoroughly. But today, I was doing my best to sound disinterested.
“Please refrain from questioning me in this room. You know what happens if you break the rules.”
“You mean… I’ll be disqualified?”
Please disqualify me already. I’m tired and just want to go home.
“Disqualification doesn’t happen here.”
“Then what?”
If not disqualification, then what happens?
“Instead of disqualification, you could be charged with defaming the royal family. And if that charge is upheld, some of the Lyshiga family’s lands could be confiscated.”
I couldn’t tell if she was just trying to scare me because I was young or if such a rule actually existed. But I couldn’t let it slide—I had to push back. I couldn’t let Elika invent rules on the fly.
“Is there really a rule that allows for land confiscation over breaking test rules? Or are you just trying to enforce something that doesn’t exist because I’m young?”
“…Actually—”
Elika’s eyes, previously cold, now gleamed sharply.
“To my knowledge, no candidate has ever participated in this test so insincerely. Being unqualified and being insincere are two very different things. If you continue to break the rules and act with such indifference, I will report everything to the Empress and request that the Minister of the Palace bring charges of royal defamation against you.”
The Minister of the Palace, who valued royal dignity above all else, would never ignore my behavior once informed. That’s probably why Elika was so angry.
The Empress’s handmaidens were considered her face. They believed that insulting them was equivalent to insulting the Empress herself.
Still, if I was being that offensive, she could’ve just written me off as poorly behaved and kicked me out. Why all the threats and lectures?
Instead of pretending to be hurt, I decided to fight back.
“But I don’t think asking someone to remember their eighth birthday is a very sincere question either.”
“Most people don’t remember much from back then, but if something memorable happened, they often do. Even events from when they were younger.”
Memorable events? Why ask about that? Back then, I’d just said I didn’t remember. But now, I was starting to realize that this might not just be a filler question to pass time.
“Did something happen to me when I was eight? Is that why you’re asking me that question?”
Elika’s usually composed expression wavered slightly.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about. We have no idea what happened to you at that age.”
“Then why ask?”
“It’s just to test your memory.”
She didn’t look at me—just kept her eyes on the questionnaire. But I noticed her fingertips were trembling ever so slightly.
We exchanged a few more words, but Elika was clearly different from before—rambling, distracted, even saying nonsensical things.
It was strange.
Why would someone so composed and logical suddenly act like that?
What happened to me when I was eight?
Could it be… that Elika made some kind of mistake involving me?
Whatever it was, I decided that once I got home, I had to find out what had happened when I was eight.
Because I couldn’t stand not knowing why Elika reacted like that.
