WTSP - 18

“You’ve arrived. Thank you for coming all this way. Ah, Count Phainus must have arrived quickly since there was a major training session today, right?”

“Empress. What urgent matter brings us here…?”

“Let’s sit first. Lena, could you bring some refreshments?”

Exactly two hours after sending the message, they appeared.

Considering the distance between the Phainus estate and the palace, it was clear they hadn’t dawdled. At least they had the sense to realize that an empress summoning nobles to the reception hall wasn’t something trivial.

Or perhaps they rushed here out of fear that their misdeeds had been uncovered.

Count Phainus sported jet-black, thick hair that seemed oddly mismatched with his age. He wore it with pride, as if flaunting his unconventional style.

Brushing my hair behind my ear, I fixed my gaze on his second son, Sir Phainus—the man who had insulted Sir Rovair, the deputy commander of the royal guard, solely based on his noble lineage.

Most knights from noble families regarded Rovair, the illegitimate child of a count, as beneath them.

In modern-day South Korea, such discrimination would’ve made headlines on the 9 o’clock news. But in the Carlot Empire, class-based prejudice wasn’t uncommon.

The fact that he still held his head high within the knight corps after being humiliated by me suggested he wasn’t an ordinary man.

While the count visibly trembled with unease, his son, Sir Phainus, maintained a confident demeanor. Clearly, he believed he had something up his sleeve.

“I didn’t call you here for idle tea time… though you do have another training session this afternoon.”

“I’m not interested in wasting time either. I’m busier than Sir Phainus here.”

“…Ahem. Your Highness, please forgive my son’s impudence.”

Realizing how disrespectful Sir Phainus’s words had been, the count coughed awkwardly to smooth things over.

I stared at the father and son without changing my expression. 

How shamelessly human beings could act under the guise of civility. My eyes turned icy cold.

“Your Highness, I’ve prepared the tea you requested.”

“Yes, thank you. Could you pour some for Count Phainus and his son as well?”

I quietly instructed Lena.

Holding the teapot with both hands, she poured an appropriate amount into their cups. The moment they saw the crimson liquid, their eyes wavered noticeably.

It wasn’t a common color, and given their guilty consciences, they couldn’t help but feel uneasy.

“Drink up. It has a wonderful aroma and taste.”

“Um, Your Highness… This is…”

“It’s a gift I received today. I wanted to share it with my esteemed guests.”

So drink it. I flashed a smile worthy of a villainess and blinked innocently.

Clearly, this count lacked any talent for maintaining a poker face.

He turned deathly pale, trembling uncontrollably. Meanwhile, young Sir Phainus bit his lower lip in frustration.

“Why aren’t you drinking? Do you think me foolish enough to be mocked because I’m an empress?”

“It’s not that, Your Highness… This tea…”

I nodded knowingly at the hesitant count.

“Yes, you’re correct. Gearmant. A familiar name, isn’t it?”

As if I’d uttered a forbidden taboo, the Phainus duo gawked at me with wide, rabbit-like eyes.

What kind of fool brags so brazenly only to cower like this? I clicked my tongue inwardly.

However, Sir Phainus soon regained his composure, adopting a defiant expression. He likely believed that even if I knew about Gearmant, I couldn’t possibly link it back to them.

“Ah, now that you mention it, isn’t that the toxic plant? Are you suggesting we drink tea brewed from it? Even an empress cannot poison nobles so recklessly.”

I deliberately smiled sweetly. Watching the visibly anxious Phainus pair, I felt a satisfying release of pent-up tension.

“You seem quite knowledgeable about Gearmant, Sir Phainus. It’s a rare plant most people haven’t even heard of.”

“Uh… I just happen to know a lot about various things.”

The count looked increasingly uneasy, worried his son might blurt out something explosive. Poor parenting indeed—or perhaps it wasn’t surprising, given the father’s own lack of refinement.

…After all, wasn’t he the one who sought revenge for his son’s humiliation by attempting murder? Just another entitled aristocrat among many.

“Today, someone exploited the emperor’s name to send me this Gearmant tea. Upon investigation, I discovered it had no connection to His Majesty.”

“Then why are you bringing this matter to us…?”

“Isn’t it obvious? Since the ones who sent me this tea were Count Phainus and Sir Phainus, I wanted to express my gratitude for the thoughtful gift.”

The count’s face turned even paler, as if dusted with flour. A brief silence enveloped the reception hall.

While rapidly organizing my thoughts, I addressed Sir Phainus in a low voice.

“How did I find out? Is there evidence? Or… yes, don’t try to pin this on others. That’s what you’re thinking, isn’t it?”

“This is an insult and direct challenge to House Phainus, Empress!”

“So a mere second son of a count dares raise his voice to an empress?”

I shot him a frosty glance.

Never did I imagine I’d utter such lines myself. These were the kinds of dialogues I assigned to the villainess Uriel while writing A Common Girl Becomes Empress. Still, it felt a little cringeworthy.

Outwardly, I maintained a cold, merciless expression, hiding my inner amusement.

Startled by my sharp tone, Sir Phainus’s face froze in shock.

Of course, an empress outranked a count—especially when addressing the second son, who owed everything to his family’s status and nothing to his own merit.

Until now, I had avoided using informal speech simply because addressing elders casually felt awkward. The “Confucian girl Seo Yeon-hee” inside me had lingered.

“Count Phainus.”

“Y-yes… Your Highness?”

“I hear your youngest sister’s family is renowned for cultivating herbs.”

“T-that… uh…”

Places where dangerous plants like Gearmant grew naturally were few and far between in the vast empire. Since it didn’t occur spontaneously, cultivation required deliberate intent.

Moreover, given its legal prohibition, any sane person wouldn’t dare touch it.

Yet, Gearmant remained a highly sought-after poison. The world was chaotic, and there were always those eager to eliminate rivals.

One characteristic of Gearmant was that its cause of death was difficult to identify. Thus, assassins and those seeking discreet solutions often favored it.

“Before Gearmant cultivation was outlawed, your sister’s family was reportedly the largest supplier. Their transactions were secretive, targeting a select few… I almost missed it.”

But who was I? Someone who, since childhood, never let curiosity go unsatisfied.

After sifting through dozens, hundreds of documents, I found a record of Count Phainus’s sister’s family being fined for Gearmant trading. Circumstantial evidence had transformed into hard proof.

“Even if my aunt’s family once cultivated Gearmant, that was in the past! It has nothing to do with today’s incident!”

Sir Phainus trembled, his face contorted with anger.

Technically, he wasn’t wrong. I hadn’t found evidence proving they still cultivated Gearmant.

Sighing softly, I gestured toward the door.

I thought they’d understand by now. Did they really need to see the bottom before grasping reality?

“Lena, show her in.”

Seeing the maid entering through the door, the count gasped and hiccupped nervously.

She looked barely in her early twenties. I beckoned her closer—a young maid with twin braids and an innocent face.

“No introductions are necessary. Let’s exchange greetings again. This is Linda, one of the emperor’s maids. Linda, didn’t you say your father works for House Phainus?”

“Your Highness, I… I’m so sorry. Please kill me. Spare my father and siblings, I beg you…”

“Linda, I won’t harm you. Punishing those who made vile threats is another matter.”

She was Linda, the maid who had delivered the Gearmant-laced tea to Lena.

According to Lena, Linda had been trembling even while handing over the teapot and cups. It must have been overwhelming for someone so young.

Leaning back in my chair, I murmured softly:

“There was no need to complicate things from the start. If you’d shown any sign of remorse, I wouldn’t have resorted to this. But I’ve already extracted a full confession from Linda. Do you still plan to deny it?”

Coincidentally, Linda and Lena were close friends. Once Linda realized the tea was poisoned, confronting her was inevitable. She must have anticipated the pressure.

The issue was that none of this was voluntary.

Through tears, Linda confessed everything to Lena: how her father, employed by the Phainus household, had been coerced into threatening her and her family.

Linda had considered taking her own life. But on her way back to her quarters, Lena stopped her and consoled her.

Initially, Linda refused to speak, fearing for her family’s safety. But Lena—who else? With her empathetic nature, she convinced her friend, promising that I, the empress, would protect Linda’s family.

Tears streaming down her face, Linda bowed deeply before me. The Phainus duo’s faces turned ashen as they watched.

Realizing I had all the evidence, Count Phainus knelt abruptly, unable to find an escape.

“Well, this is an unpleasant sight. Sir Phainus, do you have anything to say to me?”

Arms crossed, I smirked leisurely.

Struggling internally, Sir Phainus bit his lip until blood pooled, then slowly lowered his torso in a bow.

Things were finally wrapping up nicely. If only they’d admitted guilt sooner.

Just as I was about to discuss their punishment, a familiar yet chilling voice echoed in the room.

“The situation has certainly taken an interesting turn, Empress.”

Surely not. Clinging to a sliver of hope, I turned my head very slowly toward the door. If he appeared at this exact moment…

“Isn’t it fascinating? Count Phainus.”

Standing at the doorway, Serdelius’ eyes gleamed with frosty disdain. His already cold face radiated an icy aura, lowering the room’s temperature instantly.

They say “hope kills.” Perhaps it was time to offer condolences for this foolish father and son.