Empress of Self-Ruin

Chapter 27: Let's Get This Pity Party Started

I squinted in the light of the chandelier above me, so bright it lit up the whole room to the point of excessiveness.

Whoever decided that hanging it above my seat would be a great idea needed a couple of smacks on their head—multiple times with a hammer.

They were quite honestly insane for making the room this bright. I was not a plant thank you very much. I had no use for photosynthesis.

I blinked my eyes in annoyance as I assessed everyone in the room. They, on the other hand, seemed to have no problem with the lighting. I scoffed before quickly forcing my thoughts to a halt. I should stop having such useless thoughts.

The usual national assembly was usually chill and lax, but there was a heaviness in the air this time—as if we were colluding on how to have the most un-fun experience possible.

From the corner of my eyes, I couldn't help but spot the unmistakable silver hair. There was only one person in this room who had that rare hair color.

If one made an objective observation of Constantine Aragon, they probably would all agree that he was insanely beautiful, but there was nothing other than repulsion that came into my mind when I looked at him—

My grip on the armrest tightened and I avoided looking directly in his direction. I couldn't afford to lose my mind before we even began.

I needed to focus on something else.

This morning when I suddenly decided to wear a shoe one size too small, the attendants had given me a questioning look, even though they didn't dare to comment anything. The black shiny shoes with ruby ornaments pinched me each time I moved, but I needed the pain. It grounded me. The blisters on my feet were red and painful and swelling. Still, at least my thoughts didn't wander as much and the flashbacks were easier to ignore when my feet literally screamed out.

"Calypso, your anxiety is showing."

It felt like only yesterday I was having my first formal gathering with high-standing aristocrats—and my mother scolding me every few minutes.

"I'm sorry, Mother."

"I told you to hide it better."

"I'm sorry, Mother," I said again.

I remembered how I kept apologizing to my mother that day.

She seemed to be very dissatisfied with me; even my posture was not good enough. She had leaned in every now and then to pull me together from the tip of my hair to the bottom of my shoes. I tried to keep my back straight and not be intimidated, and surprisingly, her eyes softened.

"You'll do just fine. I've taught you enough to be sure of it—always remember that you're a Berenice and an Elloid. You have nothing to be nervous about," she had said.

"Yes, Mother." I looked up at her, then hesitated. Then I hesitated some more. "It's just that, what if... what if they don't like me?" I hated how tiny and shaky my voice sounded.

"They don't have to like you, just respect you."

"But I'm going to be an empress someday. What if they don't even respect me?"

I thought she would scold me again for having such undignified worries, but unexpectedly, my mother put her hand on my shoulder and gave it a light squeeze. A smile—no, a smirk slowly tugged at the corner of her lips.

"Then you force them to."

I snapped myself back from my little nostalgic memories and raised my head, no trace of anxiety left inside my eyes, but it was to be expected. If I couldn't even handle something like this, I wouldn't have become an empress in the first place.