Chapter 137

Now, the only one I can trust is Chinguk.

This was the thought that crossed Anais’ mind as she headed towards the Imperial Chambers.

Until she was confined to the monastery, she had little attachment to the great Eastern nation of Chinguk. Whenever relatives from her maternal side, such as elder princesses, imperial princes, or lords, sent her gifts, she did feel happy, but she never experienced overwhelming excitement. After all, having been born and raised in the Empire, she had little personal tie to Chinguk.

But now, upon reflection, there was no solid backing like Chinguk.

The world’s strongest nation, far surpassing the Britannia Empire in national strength, was ruled by the Chinguk Cheon-ja, who happened to be her maternal grandfather.

Although they had never met, Anais could feel his concern. The fact that he granted her the title of County Lord immediately after her birth was evidence of that.

County Lord.

Even among the imperial grandchildren, only a few held this relatively low-ranking title from the outer register of noble titles. It was said that most female members of the outer register only received their title and fief right before marriage.

‘It’s not because I’m particularly loved, is it?’

Anais knew that this favor wasn’t specifically aimed at her; it was more likely her mother being taken care of.

That meant, to gain Chinguk’s protection, her mother’s help was still necessary.

With her fists clenched tight, Anais arrived at the reception hall of the Imperial Chambers.

However, unexpected visitors were already there.

“…?”

A few Easterners dressed in crimson ceremonial robes sat in the hall, their black hair and eyes distinct. Naturally, they were members of the Chinguk delegation, which, during their stay in the Empire, had been treated poorly. With no particular schedule, they had come to greet the Empress.

‘Finally, I’m meeting these people.’

She had long wanted to meet them.

The initially awkward standoff was short-lived. The Chinguk delegates, hesitating, initiated greetings in the Chinguk language accompanied by deep bows with clasped hands. Anais, who had come to beg her mother, was now receiving formal courtesies from high officials of Chinguk.

‘Would they really go this far for me?’

Honestly, the expressions of the Chinguk delegates weren’t pleasant. The chief delegate, seemingly gritting his teeth, appeared to be barely containing his anger. The deputy, after a fleeting glare at Anais, lowered his eyes, his face slightly swollen, as if on the verge of tears.

‘That’s right. I’m not exactly welcome here.’

Caught up in this situation, Anais had once again become the center of controversy, even after being pardoned by the Cheon-ja’s appeal.

The delegation’s position, too, had undoubtedly become difficult.

Despite their personal feelings, the delegates maintained impeccable etiquette. Even the chief, a first-rank official, avoided making eye contact with Anais, lowering his eyes as he respected her presence. In the Empire, such a rank was equivalent to a minister.

‘Even these officials treat me with protocol because of my mother, huh?’

Princess Chongnyeong, known for receiving the Cheon-za and his consort’s favor—almost to the point of preference—was the daughter who could still call upon her homeland’s power after nearly twenty years in a foreign land. Now, Anais could depend on no one but her mother.

Anais intended to ask the Empress one last time for help, pleading that she be spared the severest punishment.

She then requested an audience.

However, meeting her mother wasn’t easy.

“The Empress has declined the audience.”

“Request again.”

“I have tried again, but Her Majesty has declined.”

“…Again.”

“Princess, please.”

The repeated refusals left Anais bewildered.

Did her own mother think she was no longer worth meeting? Or did she refuse because she already anticipated the content of their meeting? Of course, Anais knew she had burdened her mother, but for her mother to refuse her daughter in such dire straits?

Given the situation, Anais couldn’t just leave.

The delegates were watching her.

‘If I’m refused like this, what will they think of me?’

Why would Chinguk protect a county Lord who is cold-shouldered by her own mother?

Anais needed to pressure her mother into breaking this silence somehow. She pondered this feverishly.

An idea quickly surfaced.

“Your Majesty. I understand you’re disappointed. But please, give me a chance to explain.”

In front of the Chinguk delegates, Anais knelt down.

The delegates stared at her in shock. Honestly, it was embarrassing. But, in this situation, she had to do whatever it took to show them that she hadn’t been abandoned by her mother.

Fortunately, this method worked.

“Stand up, Anais.”

Finally, her mother appeared in the reception hall. Anais cautiously raised her head to look at her.

Her mother’s face carried no visible anger.

This meant there was still hope.

At least that’s what Anais believed.

—

“Your Majesty, I apologize. Please listen to me.”

Empress Lianhua looked at her daughter, kneeling and pleading, with mixed emotions.

Even in this grave situation, Anais remained as doll-like and beautiful as ever.

Even during the period when homesickness plagued her, gazing upon Anais’ face gave her solace. The longing for her homeland was momentarily subdued through her daughter.

But now, her beloved daughter,

The only child she had borne through great pain, had put so many people in difficult positions.

Now, the Empress herself was even being threatened. Wasn’t she already causing embarrassment in front of the Chinguk delegates?

The Empress suppressed her frustration and addressed her daughter.

“Anais. I told you to stand up.”

“In the East, I’ve heard there’s a custom called ‘qing zui.’ Pardon me, but I will kneel until you forgive me.”

“‘Bu xing qing zui’ is not an act seeking forgiveness but, rather, the opposite. At least, that’s its formal purpose… If you’re not actually asking for punishment, please stand up. Right now, you’re embarrassing me in front of the servants from your mother’s homeland.”

“Nevertheless… No, yes.”

Anais slowly stood up.

It was too late now to salvage the situation. The faces of the Chinguk officials were already deeply entrenched with disdain.

The Empress decided against dismissing the officials. In fact, she intended to use them to remind Anais of the inconveniences her actions had caused others. Only then would the immature girl understand how harsh reality could be.

“Anais, they’ve been mistreated throughout their stay in the Empire.”

“Your Majesty, just a moment—”

“Silence. …Moreover, upon their return to Chinguk, quite a few members of the delegation will face punishment. Even though travelers like martial artists and merchants might escape unpunished, officials of all ranks will face penalties without exception.”

“Punishment?”

Anais blinked in confusion.

Indeed, this child knew nothing.

How many people had her actions already hurt, and how many more would they hurt in the future? It felt almost meaningless to teach her now, but she still decided to enlighten her.

“My father has sent a formal plea on your behalf. Accompanying this were vast amounts of tribute. He even granted a temporary trading privilege, allowing a portion of trade funds to be paid in Talers. It caused significant financial loss.”

“Your Majesty, I’m sorry about that. But—”

“If this continues, your grandfather will be seen as having made a wrong judgment in wasting the national treasury. To preserve his authority, someone has to take the blame.”

“Just return the tributes, then?”

“Return what’s already been given? Do you wish the entire delegation to be executed? That’s impossible. …Many here will likely suffer consequences.”

The Empress gestured toward the Chinguk delegates.

She wasn’t exaggerating.

The Cheon-ja of Chinguk couldn’t tolerate mistakes. To avoid this incident being recorded as a political failure, it needed to be presented as an external diplomatic blunder caused by incompetent ministers. That was how things worked in Chinguk.

“How can people be killed over such a trivial matter?”

“As you can see, this is how serious matters are. Of course, not everyone will die. The Chief Delegate, the Vice Delegate, and the Chancellery Secretary of Chinguk will likely perish, while others might receive lighter punishments. Still, someone must pay the ultimate price.”

“…What?”

Anais looked increasingly shocked, showing she was truly unaware of the repercussions of her actions.

The Empress couldn’t help but chuckle dryly, her thoughts drifting to the frail Cheon-za who might soon pass away, and the immense debt she felt towards her homeland.

To lose a child in this way, sacrificing promising officials due to improper oversight of her daughter… It was almost unbelievable.

If she could, she would travel to Chinguk herself to accept her punishment. But doing so would only break the old man’s heart further, at his fragile age where emotional strain could be life-threatening.

The Empress noticed tears welling up in her daughter’s still youthful eyes.

It seemed Anais was finally beginning to understand, though a little late.

What use was there in understanding now? The Empress sighed with a sense of defeat.

“Anais, did you come here to ask for help?”

“That…”

“I’m sorry, but I’m now as good as dead in Chinguk. How can I possibly ask for assistance in this situation? …After Grandfather passes, my title will be revoked. Your maternal uncle, who will ascend to the throne, does not favor me.”

Anais widened her eyes in disbelief.

But it was the truth.

The influence of a favored princess only lasts while her parents are alive. After the throne changes hands, it often becomes more of a liability than an asset. Explaining this further to Anais would likely be pointless.

The Empress decided to keep it short.

“I no longer have the power to help you.”

“But… Mom…”

“How can I help you when my own future is uncertain?”

With these words, Anais slumped to the ground. Despite her fall, she still reached out tentatively, as if asking for reassurance of her mother-daughter bond.

Her plea was denied.

Unable to even hold her hand, Anais eventually began sobbing, her flushed cheeks streaming with tears.

“Still, please help me…”

I had no idea things would turn out like this.

Anais’ quivering words barely made it out through her sobs.

Now was not the time for such trivial statements. The delegates regarded her like dirt, and the Empress closed her eyes, feeling an overwhelming wave of despair.

But she decided against rebuking her daughter further.

There was no point in disciplining her now.

After all, Anais was destined to fall into ruin anyway.

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