It Turned Out She Wasn't a Favored Concubine - Episode 29

As Erich descended from the platform, a knight stood up and approached him. Placing one hand over his chest, he proclaimed:

“Glory to Martania! I have returned to spread the majesty of His Imperial Majesty to the nation of Armatan. As proof of our victory, I bring the royal sword of the Armatan king. Please accept it.”

His voice was a deep baritone.

Even amidst the noise of the crowd, his voice rang out clearly.

At his gesture, another knight stepped forward and placed a black box before Erich.

When Erich nodded, the knight opened the box himself, revealing a broken royal sword wrapped in white silk.

“So this is the famed sword of the Armatan king. Its pitifully shattered state seems to reflect the future of Armatan itself. Your victory is proven. Your triumph is mine, and my glory is yours. Rise and bask in your glorious place!”

At Erich’s command, the knights stood upright, and the nobles erupted in cheers once again.

The Erich who always spoke softly and politely to me was completely different in front of the knights.

Rather than being overwhelmed by the intimidating presence of the knights clad in solid black armor, he dominated the scene with just a few words.

His confident demeanor, bordering on arrogance, and his commanding posture as a ruler looking down from above—this must be the real Erich.

His gentle behavior toward me, toward Arne, was just an act. I could feel that truth in my bones once again.

Once the cheers settled, Erich took the broken sword from the box and examined it briefly. Then he approached the knight standing before him.

“I heard you led the charge at the Azba Plains, defeated the king’s guards, and broke the royal sword. You are truly the swordmaster and undefeated hero our Martania Empire is proud of. I shall have this sword reforged and bestowed upon you as a marquis.”

I instinctively clenched my fists and fixed my gaze on the shadow beneath the black helmet.

As I suspected, that knight was Arne’s older brother and war hero—Giskal von Edelheit.

The black knight raised his hand to his helmet. As it was slowly removed, a sharp jawline emerged. His hair, darker than the helmet itself, swayed slightly.

When his crimson eyes—slightly darker than Arne’s—appeared beneath the shadow of the helmet, I gasped.

What on earth did Arne write in her diary?

How could she leave out such an important detail?

For the first time, I resented Arne’s diary. No matter the reason, the fact that there wasn’t even a single line describing her brother’s appearance was unforgivable.

If Erich was the beautiful, golden-haired prince riding a white horse through a petal-strewn forest, then Giskal was the tall, handsome warrior wielding a sword atop a massive black steed on the battlefield.

His sharp features and thin lips gave him a cold impression, but there was no denying that he rivaled Erich in looks.

Well, Arne was a stunning beauty herself. But why hadn’t I imagined her brother as a similarly handsome man?

And if Arne had such a good-looking brother, she should’ve described him in detail somewhere—be it in her diary or elsewhere—for future generations. Why did she waste her words on ordinary people with two eyes, one nose, and one mouth?

Perhaps noticing the gaze stuck on him, Giskal turned his eyes toward me after removing his helmet. But the moment our eyes met, he quickly looked away toward Erich.

Huh? I blinked.

He had finally seen the sister he longed to meet, yet his reaction was strange.

Was it out of respect for the emperor?

No—it was an immediate, reflexive avoidance.

A clear attempt to dodge something.

…What was he trying to avoid?

“It is an honor, Your Majesty,” Giskal replied briefly. His voice was a pleasant baritone.

Compared to Erich’s lengthy praise, his response was short, but Erich seemed satisfied and laughed heartily, patting Giskal’s shoulder.

“To commend your efforts, I’ve arranged a grand banquet. Since one cannot dance in armor, change into formal attire and join us again. Enjoy yourself as the hero of the celebration.”

The victory banquet had officially begun.

The banquet was held at Ardenia Hall, located right next to the Berna Palace.

Ardenia Hall was where I often had dinner with Erich. I used to think it was just an unnecessarily large and fancy dining hall, but now I realized it was a formal venue reserved for grand events like victory celebrations.

Ignorance was a sin.

I vowed never to have another dinner with Erich at Ardenia Hall. Honestly, I’d prefer not to dine with him at all.

I took a sip from my glass, gazing up at the massive ceiling mural of Ardenia Hall.

My throat was parched.

Erich had escorted me all the way to Ardenia Hall, ignoring the other concubines completely.

It was an overt display of favoritism in front of the nobles.

Clearly intentional.

If you can’t avoid it, enjoy it, they say. I tried my best to wear a shameless expression.

Thankfully, the banquet wasn’t just for enjoyment—Erich didn’t stick to my side the entire time.

After the opening speech, Erich changed into a black uniform and began conversing with Giskal and other high-ranking nobles.

Erich and Giskal stood out even from afar.

Not just me—everyone kept glancing in their direction.

Judging by their serious expressions, they were likely discussing post-war matters that couldn’t be addressed during the ceremony.

I watched Giskal’s neatly cropped black hair. Even his handwriting was dark and tidy like that.

His final letter had promised a swift end to the war and a return to the capital. That promise had been fulfilled. I had seen it with my own eyes.

But our eye contact had lasted only a moment. And he had turned away so quickly, it felt like he was fleeing. It wasn’t a proper reunion.

When would their conversation end?

Only once it did could he come to me—or I to him.

I anxiously drank another glass of water. Time crawled by in the dazzling Ardenia Hall. Erich and Giskal’s conversation showed no signs of ending, and the nobles, having finished their greetings, began chatting to pass the time.

Standing alone, I became the perfect topic of gossip.

From Rosdell’s birthday banquet to my strange disappearance from the palace, and now Erich’s special treatment—there was no shortage of juicy stories.

Feeling the growing discomfort of their stares, I slowly moved toward a corner.

At least with a wall behind me, I could relax a little.

As I approached the wall, I saw a group of young noblewomen gathered around someone.

I stopped in my tracks at the sight of bright blonde hair bowed low.

Narrowing my eyes, I walked toward them.

The closer I got, the more certain I became. The person surrounded by the noblewomen was Marianne Le Cinel.

“Lady Marianne, why do you always choose to be a wallflower? As His Majesty’s concubine, you should be confidently leading the banquet from the center.”

“Exactly. That’s the proper role of a concubine. You shouldn’t leave everything to Lady Rosdell and just sit here idly.”

Hearing their words, I felt a pang of guilt.

It was almost as if they had eyes on the back of their heads and were talking about me.

Arne hadn’t fulfilled her role as a concubine, and neither had I since entering her body. Not that I could—but no one ever said anything to me.

Why? Because I was Arne.

Who would dare speak ill of Arne and risk getting slapped? So people only whispered behind her back, never openly criticized her.

But Marianne was different.

She had no power, no favor, no backing. Her homeland was a defeated nation. She was likely the weakest person in this banquet hall.

“Please stop. The customs of the Kingdom of Zaren differ from ours. How could Lady Marianne be expected to lead the banquet? Especially when there’s been little exchange between our nations.”

“Oh my, Lady Patricia. Well, you’re also too inexperienced to lead a banquet. You should start by getting a new dress. Is that one from Zaren? It’s completely out of fashion…”

“I’ll send a book of etiquette to Lady Marianne’s residence at Maron Palace today. I haven’t needed it since I was ten, so I hope she’ll accept it without hesitation. Hohoho.”

Their sarcasm was so blatant it made even me, not the target, feel sick.

It wasn’t just the five noblewomen mocking Marianne. The entire social circle was complicit.

How else could such young girls openly ridicule the emperor’s fourth concubine without anyone stopping them?

No one intervened. Instead, the onlookers watched with amused eyes.

I briefly considered what would happen if I stepped in.

But the decision didn’t take long.

I saw something glisten beneath Marianne’s blonde hair—and stepped forward.

“What are you all talking about?”

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