‘Again,’ she thought.
She wanted to think some more, not to be driven insane by the emptiness of the black room and endless torture, but that one word had exhausted her thoughts.
Perhaps, it was easier to be insane. But the woman could not think that far.
The door creaked open, and an unfamiliar face appeared, warm in the light of a candle’s sparse flame. The hanging woman squinted against the brightness.
“Ilai,” the newcomer called as she stepped inside.
Ilai did not recognize her name at first. She’d been called too many names for too long. Months. Years. But the awakening chill in her marrow reminded her: her name was never a good omen.
‘Again,’ she thought.
Give her hope.
Pull her tongue.
Give her hope.
Burn her face.
Give her hope.
Crush her hands. Pull her nails. Break her teeth.
Destroy her sanity.
‘Again,’ Ilai thought.
- Chapter forty-five ‘Undead’, The Tale of Arrogance
Everyone in the hall was dressed in white and gold, except for the protagonist of the night, Ilai, who was dressed in midnight black. Even the attendant using his full lung capacity to announce each upcoming gift was dressed in simple white robes secured by a golden belt.
Some watched the novel offerings with interest, others mingled around, conversing with the more powerful in hopes of securing connections. As a Winged General, Ilai’s father was surrounded by nobles, both the prominent and humble. The young masters and misses of various families gathered together. Glasses clinked and shy laughter filled the air.
The masses converged into a sea of dazzling sparkle, warmed by the orange hue coming from the large chandeliers suspended from the ceiling. The illumination extended past the hall into the darkness beyond.
The scene almost made Ell nauseous.
Forcing herself to sit languid in her cushioned seat, Ell’s gaze repeatedly drew towards Tyra, observing her carefully.
The protagonist was as the novel had described her: dark green irises, a tan countenance, and auburn hair tied up neatly into a braided bun. Her plain white robes were devoid of golden thread, the only glimmer of ceremony a gold bracelet on her wrist. Even that was often swallowed by her generous sleeves.
Not that she needed any accessories. Her wings were folded behind her, crimson feathers gleaming with a golden luster.
Nothing about Tyra was out of place—except for the hundred above her head.
Tyra who was indifferent to everyone but cold to Ilai; who resented Ilai for monopolizing her mother’s favor; who hated how she lost what she loved to Ilai if Ilai ever fancied it.
She had a Favorability of one hundred. What a joke.
Ell pulled up the Favorability divisions as the endless gifts were brought forward and set aside. She went directly to the bottom of the list.
Tyra would not entrust Ilai with a minute of her time, let alone her life.
‘System,’ Ell called in her mind. ‘Is this Favorability reliable?’
‘Yes,’ a mechanical voice sounded in her head.
Ell was surprised. She had expected a pop-up screen. ‘You can speak?’
‘Are you stupid?’ the system replied.
Touché. ‘That was a rhetorical question, idiot.’ Ell shifted into a more comfortable position. She could get used to the luxury. ‘Anyway, how come the Favorability does not match the character relations in the story at all?’
You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.
The system’s response was delayed. ‘Matches.’ It stingily spat out a single word.
‘Forget it, if you are unreliable, of course your functions are also unreliable.’ Ell expected another stupid, but the system fell silent.
It didn't matter. It was only her first day anyway. Once she had gathered enough information, it was a matter of time before she figured out why the Favorability was unhinged.
The attendant’s voice registered in Ell’s ears once more. “Bell of Blessings,” the attendant called out the name of the gift then followed it by its sender, “gifted by his lordship, Viscount Kael Dren Orvas.”
Ell rubbed her thumb along the side of her forefinger at the familiar name.
Viscount Kael Dren Orvas was the victim of Ilai’s schemes in the original novel, dying tragically at the banquet. Ell reached for a grape from the platter of fruit sitting between her and the queen. It sat on a marble pedestal at arm level.
Everything in the temple appeared to be made out marble.
Just as she brought the grape to her lips, she locked eyes with an excited man carrying a white spherical pendant on a golden cushion. As the attendant began announcing another gift, the man’s bright eyes dimmed.
Ell’s voice rang out. “Wait.”
The chatter of guests quieted into hushed whispers as Ell slowly stood up and descended the steps. Viscount Kael kneeled and held out his gift. “Your Highness.”
Ell hooked a finger through the pendant’s belt mount and raised it to eye level.
The viscount stood up, flattered by the princess’s attention. “Your Highness, this pendant is imbued with thirty blessings. Each carved mark represents a blessing. As long as you choose of a blessing and shake the bell, you should be able to use the blessing’s power.”
An artifact harnessing Blessings was nothing grand or novel, but one granting thirty blessing was rather uncommon. Murmurs of awe and envy filled the cool air.
Ell marveled at the exquisite craftsmanship. The spherical object was large as the palm of the hand, attached to a golden bale at the top and a golden tassel at the bottom. It appeared no different from a small ball, but when she turned it around, she found a hollow circular protrusion through which a carving could be seen. The aperture moved with her thoughts. Through teleportation to strength enhancement to flight Blessing marks.
Such intricate design and mechanisms. What a pity.
Ell tossed the magical artifact in the air, her grasp loose as she caught it and threw it up again.
To her left, Earl Dren Vey Orvas, Kael's father, trembled in agony as his treasured artifact was treated carelessly by the Princess. Had it not been for his son’s infatuation with Her Highness, and the honor and status he would gain by becoming in-laws with the Queen and Winged General, how could he allow the artifact he had painstakingly worked on to fall into her unruly hands?
He only hoped she’d store it away and save him the heartache.
The silent Princess finally moved. She strolled leisurely towards edge of the hall. The crowd parted, eyes on the precious pendant getting manhandled. Ell’s eyes were elsewhere, surveying the crowd. She matched names to faces to numbers, eyes narrowing with satisfaction as her smile grew. Five steps away from a long fall, she stopped.
Three floors down was a lush garden. Blossoming flowers and trees bearing various fruit stretched into the darkness. The closest tree extended past the third floor into the sky. A ripe purple fruit, the size of an adult man’s head, hung a few meters away.
Ell looked back at the viscount. He was following closely behind and approached quickly when she beckoned. She extended the ball towards him.
Tilting her head slightly, she spoke in a playful tone, “I saw a Blessing for flight. The violet plumags are ripe and plump. Viscount, care to demonstrate the bell’s usage and get us some?”
The viscount hesitated. A blessing of flight worked by giving one temporary wings. His current attire did not accommodate wings, so he would have to strip down to his underpants.
Ell watched him squirm. Feigning a sigh, she took back her hand. “Forget it. I thought to entertain our guests with a demonstration before they hound me to death with envy. Well, it can’t be helped.”
It could be helped. All she had to do was choose a different blessing to demonstrate. But while the Earl could see through her humiliating scheme, Kael only thought to please the Princess who had never given him face.
It was the first time she’d addressed him; he could not let it be the last.
Kael stepped forward. “It would be an honor to demonstrate for Your Highness.”
Ell looked away as the man teetering on forty took off his belt, outer robe, inner robe, and inner tunic. Standing only in thick underpants, he glanced at the Bell of Blessing. Ell tossed him the ball, and he caught it clumsily, almost falling.
“Your Lordship is quite brave,” she commented with a smile.
Kael stammered at the compliment. “Thank– thank you, Your Highness.” He fumbled with the ball, putting the aperture on the flight Blessing and giving the pendant a strong shake. Pleasant clinks rang out in the quiet hall. People pushed against each other to come closer for a look. Even the Queen stood from her High Seat and craned her neck to watch the excitement.
The viscount’s shoulder blades shook as the echo of the bells faded. Bones protruded from skin, extending into a crooked arc. Flesh grew around them, wound by taut skin. Feathers blossomed, short and long until they formed large trembling wings, black as crow feathers. Kael gave Ell a flattering smile before tightly holding the ball and flapping his wings.
With each flap, the air current pushed the crowd back. Then with a powerful jump, Kael threw himself off the ledge and into the air. His wings didn’t fail him.
He soared towards the drooping branches, heavy with unshed fruit.
Ell watched him struggle to pick a plumag and turned away. She wanted to return to her seat but caught a whiff of something sweet. An attendant stood an arm’s length away, watching the viscount with interest. The platter of drinks in his hand tilted dangerously. Before it could give way, Ell snatched a goblet.
She took a sip. “And the curtain falls,” Ell whispered into the fogging glass.
A resounding boom shook the air. Blood and limbs splattered those closest to the ledge, staining white a sinful red. Drinks spilled, and glass shattered. Screams tore through the air, the thick throng pushing away and towards the ledge, paradoxical in their abject horror and vile curiosity. Or perhaps, it was not paradoxical at all.
Ell swirled her glass with a smile. A line came to memory, and she looked up. Across from her, Tyra stood, hands fisted, watching her with furrowed brows.
Ell’s smile widened. She raised her cup, winked at the Crown Princess, and downed the bitter liquid in one go.
‘Cheers,’ she mouthed.
[Integration ? | Unlocked]
[Integration Value | 001]
Ell quirked an eyebrow at the new prompts, then put them away. The play was not over yet.