A figure stood with her back to the crowd, unstained by the chaos as she swirled a glass of varim with a light smile on her lips. She lifted her gaze, locking eyes with Tyra.
Ilai’s smile widened. She raised her cup, winked at her cousin, and downed the bitter liquid in one go.
‘Cheers,’ she mouthed.
- Chapter five ‘Bloody Blessing’, The Tale of Arrogance
Blue sky morphed into white marble, supported by towering thick pillars with intricate carvings. Where the pillars met the floor, gold markings curled and unfurled, twisting into obscure designs. Everywhere was a splash of gold on white. The sky was visible all around the circular hall, clouds and night breeze rolling between the satin and silk of impeccably dressed mortals.
Ell stood on an elevated golden platform in the middle of the hall. Countless eyes were upon her, but she could not bother to meet any.
Above each of the attendees’ heads hovered a number. She frowned at the varying digits. As her gaze swept through them, she paused on an older couple with linked arms standing close to the platform. Instead of a number, a lock swayed above each of their heads.
The system did not leave her in suspense for long as two prompts popped up.
[Checkpoints ? | Unlocked]
[Favorability ? | Unlocked]
Ell looked between the two new prompts before her gaze settled on the encircled ‘i’ next to Favorability. A larger new prompt overlayed the previous ones.
[Favorability | Metric of affection.]
[Divisions]
[Note: Unlock checkpoints to unlock the favorability of more characters.]
Ell frowned slightly as she read through the list but was interrupted before she could finish.
“Your Highness.” An older man, dressed in long white robes with simple golden designs at the open edges, came to a stand in front of her. His chin was held high, oozing haughtiness as he looked down at her. A thirty-seven hovered above his head.
The screen between them distorted his features. Ell wanted it out of the way, and it vanished.
The man’s identity sprung to her head—High Priest of Jemlar’s Blessed Temple. His arrogant gaze moved from her eyes to the mark on her forehead. The condescending attitude seemed to diminish a little at the sight, his brows drawing close together then relaxing. His loose wide sleeves fluttered as he placed his hands behind him, the mark on his forehead glowing.
Time stretched, awkwardness breeding through the silence as the man remained motionless.
The crimson mark dulled its glow, and the High Priest moved to her left, facing the crowd and announcing loudly, “The Blessed Temple congratulates her highness, Princess Ilai Byrun Silva, on gaining an unprecedented Blessing. May it bring upon her prosperity and wealth.”
In other words—I have no idea what this is, let the farce end.
Murmurs erupted in the crowd, gazes between disdainful and amused.
The scene was exactly as the text dictated. Next would follow a succession of congratulations, the announcement of gifts, and a brutal murder by the protagonist of the banquet, Ilai. The murder would cause little more than a splash, and Ilai would walk away unscathed.
Ell could not care less.
In regards to the murder, she had no plans of following through. First of all, she had no intention of committing a murder for funsies. Secondly, although she’d been exposed to plenty of action and horror in movies, blood and gore in real life were another matter altogether. She’d rather spare herself the discomfort.
The High Priest descended the platform through a downward spiral of stairs that wound around the circular platform. Ilai followed behind at a leisurely pace. It was not that she was trying to imitate Ilai’s carefree bearing, but there were no railings to the staircase, and she did not trust the carpeted steps not to send her flying into a concussion.
There were at least a hundred steps between her and the gossiping guests, the descent lengthy. She contemplated pulling up the Favorability information again, but dying less than an hour into her transmigration—by falling off the stairs no less—would be too pathetic.
After what seemed like eternity, the golden heels of her black boots touched the floor.
After having Ilai’s memories surge through her head a couple of times, Ell now easily recognized the identities of the pompous crowd. The King and Queen stood before her, each brimming with smiles. But the numbers above their heads betrayed their Favorability. The King had a bellied zero while the Queen carried a more generous fifty-one.
Both Favorabilities left Ell surprised.
Her glimpse of Favorability divisions had been brief, but Ell caught the zero to nine range: intense desire to kill.
In the novel, the King, Nym Jorn Aros, was described as reactive and impulsive, often causing strain within the court and dealing irreparable damage to Jemlar’s relations with other monarchies. It was through Crown Princess Tyra’s efforts that the Monarchy maintained a semblance of stability.
If the King’s favorability towards Ilai was truly zero, how could he smile so brightly in her face? Was the novel’s portrayal of his rashness false, or was it that the Favourability was not accurate? No—why would he hate her so intensely to begin with?
The Queen’s Favorability was even stranger. One of the reasons readers held Ilai in contempt was that she hogged all her aunt’s attention. Despite being a niece, she was treated like a daughter. No—better than one.
While Tyra was made to follow a rigorous schedule from a young age, attending classes, shadowing her father in court, and practicing swordsmanship, Ilai was coddled by the Queen. From the title of Princess to jewels, estates, and lands, Ilai lacked for nothing.
Ell had to check the divisions to be sure, but a fifty-one Favorability should indicate indifference.
Isara Quel Thoryn, ever the attentive doting aunt, held no affection for the daughter of her late sister? Was it all a pretense?
“—Ilai?” the Queen’s voice cut through her churning thoughts. Ell had blanked out for too long. “Are you all right?” Isara reached a hand to Ell’s elbow, supporting her. Her frown appeared deep and sincere. “Should I call for a physician?”
There were too many discrepancies.
Ell’s pursed lips softened into a smile. She put a hand on the Queen’s arm. “Perhaps? Aunt’s beauty tonight has left me out of breath.” She spoke neither hurried, nor slow. Teasing but not flattering.
Ell knew how to please better than anyone. It earned her lunch fees and, less often, school trips.
Until things became clearer, Ell would play the arrogant princess, unfilial daughter, and beloved niece well.
Isara laughed at her answer. She knocked Ell’s forehead playfully. “Foolish child, at such an important occasion, what are you spacing out for? His Majesty was praising you for getting blessed with such a unique mark. Pay your respects.”
The Queen let go of Ell, allowing her to bow in salute, hands crossed in front of her heart as she bent her knees slightly. If memories came to her smoothly, her movements were even more familiar. “Thank you, Your Majesty. It’s nothing compared to Your Majesty’s Blessing.”
The King’s mark, Etru, showed him what one was exceptional at. Although it made appointing competent officials easy, their character was not among his considerations. As a result, half of the court was occupied by insidious schemers.
The King waved his hand. “No need for formalities.” The King turned to the encirclement of nobles. “Festivities shall last throughout the night. All in attendance shall be rewarded.”
Hands were crossed above hearts, men bowed their heads, women bent their knees. The crowd praised His Majesty’s generosity and thanked him for his grace.
The Crown Princess’s Blessing Ceremony was not as festive as tonight.
The King left surrounded by his royal guards, and the hall bustled with gossip and laughter.
The Queen held Ell’s hand and pulled her towards the High Seats in front of the hall. “Come, let’s see if the guests did you justice tonight.”
The greetings had been dealt with by Ilai before the Blessing began. All Ell had to do now was maintain an arrogant satisfied smile—getting a novel Blessing was a rarity nowadays, and Ilai would undoubtedly be proud of it.
The Queen’s grasp warmed Ell’s cold fingers as they weaved through the crowd, showered by congratulations and flattery. The voices upon her ears were full of life and leisure.
True to the system’s words, these people, and this world, appeared as real as can be.
Ell recalled each guest’s name as they walked forward, gaze pausing a little longer on a familiar couple who watched them with smiles. Earlier, Ell had only noticed the locks above their heads, but now she recognized them. Byrun Haz Silva and Versan Ry Tiraz—Ilai’s father and her stepmother.
When their eyes met, Byrun’s smile grew stiff, while Versan beamed with pride. Ell recalled how Ilai usually interacted with them and ignored them directly.
As they reached the short steps leading to the slightly elevated platform, Ell stopped in her tracks.
Crown Princess Tyra sat straight on a white marble bench, gold cushions padding the seat. She glanced at Ell lightly before averting her gaze and continuing to sip at the golden varim.
Isara noticed Ell’s gaze. “Tyra will give you her congratulations separately, you know her temper.” The Queen’s voice was muffled by the ringing in Ell’s ears.
Ell maintained a casual smile as she followed the Queen and sat next to her on the High Seats. An attendant came forward with a list of the birthday gifts submitted earlier in the evening.
But Ell could not hear anything. She was focused on the three-digit number above Tyra’s head. A glaring one hundred.
Damn unreliable system.