Second Life, I’m Dying Soon Chapter 77

Chapter 77

 

The banquet hall’s pristine white marble floor gleamed dazzlingly.

The grand frames and tapestries adorning the walls heightened the hall’s majestic atmosphere, while dozens of chandeliers suspended from the high ceiling scattered starlike brilliance, adding a fantastical splendor to the space.

Emperor Arnold looked to be in exceedingly good spirits in celebration of his birthday. Seated upon a throne carved with golden lions, he enjoyed the banquet with an unceasing smile.

A red carpet starting from the entrance stretched all the way to the Emperor’s feet. People lined up in a long row on this carpet, stepping forward one by one to offer birthday greetings and gifts to the Emperor.

It was quite a rare spectacle. An endless stream of unusual and precious offerings poured forth, making it resemble a competition of sorts. The gifts brought from Kazarjan, in particular, drew gasps of admiration from all who saw them.

“Your Majesty, I offer my congratulations on your birthday.”

When her turn came, Yuria Beatrice stepped forward and presented a handkerchief she had personally embroidered. Her embroidery skills were so poor even from a distance that the Empress, seeing it, laughed out loud.

Instantly turned into an object of ridicule, Yuria lowered her head, her cheeks burning red. But the gift she had prepared did not end there.

“Your Majesty, though I am lacking, I wish to offer a prayer of blessing. May I have your permission?”

Emperor Arnold, who had been indifferent to the trivial gift, instantly brightened. He was originally one who couldn’t resist the saintess’s prayers.

“Of course! What are you doing, quickly lay a cushion on the floor for her!”

No sooner had the order been given than a large, flat cushion was placed before Yuria. At the same time, all eyes converged on her.

Yuria took a small breath, then knelt upon the cushion with both knees. With her hands clasped together and her eyes closed, she appeared, at a glance, almost reverent.

Her lips moved softly. As her earnest prayer continued, the mark upon her shoulder blades began to glow with a pure white light.

“Waaah!”

Those who witnessed the sacred sight let out astonished exclamations in unison. The reactions of the foreign guests were especially fervent.

Kilian and Larisa were no exception. Larisa was so startled she dropped her knife to the floor, while Kilian’s pitch-black eyes flashed as he let out a low whistle.

“That woman’s impressive. No wonder the Crown Prince cherishes her so much.”

Larisa did not respond, pressing her lips tightly together. Her sharply narrowed gaze returned to Yuria, and soon she spotted the Crown Prince carefully attending to the saintess.

The sight of it was unbearably tender. Enough to drive her mad with envy. She could not accept that the ideal man she had dreamed of for so long had been taken by another woman—by a lowborn saintess, no less.

Larisa snapped her head away. She clenched her teeth, her fist trembling, and beside her, Kilian, leisurely sipping his wine, glanced over.

“You look pathetic, Lara. Your face is dripping with jealousy.”

“Don’t just sit there. Help me.”

“With what, exactly?”

“You know what you’re good at!”

Kilian shrugged as if he truly didn’t understand. That only made Larisa angrier.

“That saintess or whatever she is—try seducing her! Make an opening for me to exploit!”

“Well. I don’t really feel like it.”

Kilian replied half-heartedly. Sinking deeper into his plush chair, he gently swirled his wineglass. The red wine rippled inside, and through the clear glass, the figures of Crown Prince Alexis and the saintess came into view. Kilian’s lips curved into a broad smile.

“That’s something you should do yourself.”

“Are you really going to be like this?”

“Larissa, have you forgotten our Kazarjan national motto?”

“‘If you want it, seize it.'”

At the reminder, Larisa’s expression hardened with renewed resolve. Kilian nodded in satisfaction and raised his glass toward her in a toast.

The main dinner formally began.Tables stretched along the walls of the banquet hall, so long that their ends were impossible to see.

As the feast continued, performances filled the open stage at the center—music, short plays, and dances—providing entertainment throughout the meal. The guests were fully engrossed, enjoying both the banquet and the spectacle.

Hundreds of guests sat in their assigned seats. The higher one’s status, the closer one sat to the emperor; those of lesser rank were seated at the far edges.

Yuria sat roughly at the center of the long table. Fortunately, Claude Vandeil, the Knight Commander, sat beside her, standing guard.

Earlier, her tension had been obvious, but once she was seated away from the high table, her face finally relaxed. She smiled often, conversed with Claude, and enjoyed the meal.

From afar, Alexis watched the warm, companionable scene between Yuria and Claude. Seeing the people he cared for enjoying themselves brought a faint smile to his lips as well.

It would have been nice to join them, but he didn’t feel particularly regretful. He was the Crown Prince, and it was his duty to fulfill his role.

Alexis erased his smile and returned to his usual cold, composed expression. Nearby, nobles were scrambling to flatter the emperor and empress.

His blue eyes meticulously scanned their faces, then swept across the banquet tables. Occasions like this were the perfect opportunity to assess the factions aligned with the current empress.

As he surveyed the room, Alexis’s gaze suddenly landed on the man seated closest to him. Come to think of it, there was another person beside him who also had duties to attend to.

Cecil Adrian was dressed more formally than usual for the birthday celebration. His newly tailored ceremonial attire suited his strikingly pale complexion all too well.

When he wasn’t smiling, he tended to look cold, and even now, he appeared faintly sharp. His posture, seated without the slightest disorder, carried the dignity befitting royalty. And yet, despite all that, it was painfully obvious to Alexis that Cecil’s mind was elsewhere.

Lowering his gaze, Alexis checked Cecil’s plate. Somehow, he was still stuck on the appetizer. Even that had barely been touched.

“Why are you just picking at it like that?”

At the question, Cecil turned his head. It seemed he had come back to his senses; a clear light returned to his emerald eyes. He glanced briefly at Alexis, then faced forward again and let out a long sigh, like an old man burdened with all the worries of the world.

“I don’t really have much of an appetite.”

“Where did your sensitive temper go?”

Alexis let out a soft chuckle. He knew that Cecil had been particularly concerned about the birthday celebration. Even today, his unusual tension was obvious.

Casually cutting his food, Alexis continued,

“I hear the menu was personally designed by Her Majesty. If you don’t touch it at all, won’t people start talking?”

“Better that than forcing myself to eat and falling ill, don’t you think?”

“You know as well as I do that people read all sorts of things into our actions.”

“….”

“Eat at least a little. And don’t bother the attendants later by complaining that you’re hungry.”

The oyster dish smothered in heavy sauce was moved away, replaced with lamb cut into manageable pieces.

Cecil stared at the changed plate for a moment, then reluctantly picked up his fork. He had no immunity to Alexis’s consideration; refusing him was never easy.

Once he took a bite, however, it wasn’t bad at all. Chewing the juicy meat on instinct, Cecil once again sank into thought.

Today was the problematic birthday celebration. Perhaps because of the care he had taken over the past few days, Princess Larisa had caused no major incidents. If today passed safely, the event Cecil had feared would not come to pass.

His eyes swept the opposite table out of habit. Far away sat the Kazarjan royal family’s designated seats. But after a brief lapse in attention, Larisa was nowhere to be seen.

Alarmed, Cecil stared straight ahead, trying to grasp the situation—only to lock eyes with Kilian instead. From afar, Kilian lifted his wineglass with a sly smile. Cecil stiffened and immediately looked away.

Perhaps ten minutes passed before an attendant approached Alexis and spoke in a hushed voice.

“Your Highness, the Princess of Kazarjan requests an audience.”

As though he had expected it, Alexis’s expression didn’t change in the slightest. He took a sip of wine before replying.

“Convey my regrets.”

“She said she would wait until you come.”

“My, she intends to stay up all night.”

“She also said that if Your Highness does not come, a major commotion will ensue.”

“……”

A blade-sharp glare shot toward the attendant, who hurriedly bowed again and again. Merely conveying such a threat to the Crown Prince seemed to weigh on him like a grave offense.

“…My apologies, Your Highness.”

Alexis watched the man, who was breaking out in a cold sweat and didn’t know what to do, then brushed his bangs back. His platinum-blond hair, neatly arranged, fell slightly out of place under his rough touch.

“She’s so willful that it’s almost impressive.”

Alexis tossed his napkin aside. As he pushed his chair back and rose to his feet, a startled Cecil abruptly grabbed the hem of his clothing.

“Your Highness!”

Alexis stopped mid-step and spoke indifferently.

“Why do you look so shocked? Didn’t you expect the princess to assert herself strongly at some point?”

He was right. But Cecil couldn’t easily dismiss his anxiety. The hand gripping his clothes tightened with even more force.

“…May I accompany you?”