Scorned so harshly by his kinswoman, Westheid merely smiled and said nothing more.
After all, he was currently a well-known good-for-nothing. There was nothing to argue about.
Yolanda dragged Westheid from one place to another, proactively visiting any noble who might become their benefactor.
Westheid couldn't dissuade her, so he could only watch as Yolanda darted about enthusiastically, offering only perfunctory replies in their conversations.
As night fell, magnificent lanterns were lit in the largest plaza of the Holy Tree Palace's outer grounds, transforming it into the venue for the ball that followed the banquet.
Young nobles, in particular, seized this rare opportunity to mingle with their peers. Handsome men and beautiful women of noble blood and ancient lineage danced gracefully.
"Duke Qinghui, would you do me the honor of a dance?"
A young noble lady with delicate features—fair-skinned, buxom, and alluring—approached Westheid, lifted her dress in a curtsy, and asked shyly.
Westheid shook his head. "Thank you, but please find someone else."
"But, Duke Qinghui, didn't we..."
"Please leave."
Westheid mercilessly rejected the lovely noblewoman, causing her eyes to well with tears. Aggrieved, she covered her face and fled.
Yolanda glanced over. "Brother, that's the eleventh lady you've rejected... The young mistress of the Perkins Clan. I thought you were quite fond of her."
'I was young and foolish, just messing around.'
Westheid pinched the bridge of his nose. Just a moment of recollection brought back a flood of memories of all the women he'd been with.
There were glamorous, sexy, mature women with wavy hair; incredibly pure young ladies with long, straight black hair; and even a sweet, adorable, well-developed blonde... From the noble ladies of the Imperial Capital to the daughters of wealthy merchants, the despairing Qinghui Patriarch had used the utmost depravity to vent his inner sorrow and despair.
Westheid said flatly, "It was a purely physical relationship, nothing more. You couldn't call it fondness."
"But even so, you're completely unmoved now, aren't you?"
Seeing this, Yolanda said to Westheid, full of worry, "You haven't overindulged so much that you've contracted some... persistent ailment, have you? Brother, your mind is already twisted enough. At the very least, you have to stay physically healthy!"
Westheid replied, "That's a low blow. I'm just not in the mood right now."
Westheid was no eunuch with an aversion to beautiful women, but such pleasures could never be his highest priority. How to increase his strength—that was what mattered most.
"Brother, are you looking for someone?"
Yolanda asked, having noticed that Westheid's gaze was constantly shifting.
"Yolanda, I recall that the Royal Family also attends these balls, correct?"
Yolanda said, "The Royal Family? The Second Princess and the Third Prince aren't in the Imperial Capital right now. As for Her Royal Highness Regent King... it's possible she'll come, but she's most likely handling official business."
The platinum-blonde girl said thoughtfully, "Are you hoping to speak with Her Royal Highness Regent King? If it's Her Highness, she might actually agree to help rebuild the Qinghui Territory..."
Westheid shook his head. "No, I'm not looking for the Regent King."
"Then who..."
"Mm... Found her."
On the giant plaza before the palace, guests were everywhere, either chatting or dancing.
But in one corner, there was an empty space. This should have been an insignificant detail, unworthy of notice.
Yet Westheid's sharp eyes caught it, and he walked over briskly.
As he drew closer, he could see that the "culprit" behind this vacuum was a young girl in a wheelchair.
The girl in the wheelchair wore a simple white dress, which seemed plain and drab compared to the gorgeous, ornate gowns worn by the other noble ladies who were all vying to outshine one another.
A wheelchair often brings to mind a frail, beautiful girl, but from beneath this girl's white dress, no slender legs extended.
Instead, there was only emptiness. Only two slender arms rested on the wheelchair's wheels.
Her long, silver-white hair cascaded down like a waterfall, and a single lock of her bangs hung over her lowered eyelids.
Protruding from her beautiful hair, which seemed to be forged from molten silver, were a pair of dragon horns. They resembled frozen bolts of silver-white lightning, or perhaps a work of art carved from some kind of pure white jade.
The dragon-horned girl's face should have been beautiful, but cracks, like those on shattered and mended porcelain, ruined any sense of beauty. From her cheeks down to her neck, the fissures tore across her smooth, supple skin, appearing jarring and grotesque.
The lively ball seemed to have nothing to do with her. Everyone deliberately avoided looking in her direction, and the few glances that did fall upon her were filled with malice.
Hatred, disgust, contempt...
"That mongrel actually came..."
"Well, she is a Princess, I suppose. Tsk, tsk... to think such a filthy creature exists within the sacred bloodline."
"Those horns are nauseatingly ugly."
"Why isn't she dead yet? What's the point of clinging to life when she looks like that?"
"..."
Westheid ignored the mockery and curses from those around him, his gaze fixed fervently on the Silver-haired Dragon Lady.
"The Fourth Princess, Reiya."
Yolanda caught up to Westheid and frowned at the sight. "Hasn't she always been locked away deep within the Holy Tree Palace? But tonight... right, under the Holy Law, she is indeed allowed to attend. But is it really necessary? Even if she comes, she's only bringing humiliation upon herself."
Westheid asked, "Yolanda, what do you think of her?"
Yolanda pondered for a moment before replying, "If I were to follow the crowd, the word 'mongrel' would suffice. But I think... fate has been incredibly unfair to her."
The physically broken Silver-haired Dragon Lady in the wheelchair was, indeed, a genuine Empress Princess.
A member of the most noble Royal Family, she was subjected to such extreme hatred and contempt simply because, in the eyes of the people, Reiya's very existence was filth and sin.
Sixteen years ago, a new Consort of the Emperor of the Empire gave birth to a child. For any family with an Extraordinary bloodline, the birth of a new heir is a joyous occasion, let alone for the Royal Family. It should have been a cause for nationwide celebration.
However, this newborn Princess was born with Dragon horns.
In the Radiant Holy Tree Empire, Dragons were directly equated with Demons. The nation itself was founded by overthrowing the brutal enslavement of a Demon Dragon. For a Dragon Descendant to be born into the Royal Family, whose bloodline was revered as the most sacred, was a colossal irony!
The entire Imperial Capital was thrown into chaos. The Emperor's Consort was discovered to be a Dragon in hiding and was hacked to pieces by the enraged Royal Guard.
The terrified Emperor went to the Great Holy Hall to plead for forgiveness from the Divine Ancestor. However, after kneeling for three days and three nights, the divine decree he finally received was—
The newborn Princess must live.
If the mongrel who defiled the sacred bloodline was to live, then who would pay the price for this foolish blasphemy?
The terrified Master of the Empire chose to take his own life to atone for his sin.
The shockwaves from this scandal were no less than those of a coup... No, a coup could not even begin to compare.
Anyone connected to the matter, anyone suspected of being connected, anyone accused of having a connection... If even the Emperor had to die, what privilege did those beneath him have to be spared?
The bloody purge lasted for months. After the dust settled, when the people tremblingly asked the Divine Ancestor who should be the new Emperor, the Radiant Holy Tree remained silent.
In an empire where rule was by divine right, without a coronation by the Divine Ancestor, the throne could only remain vacant.
But a country cannot go a single day without a ruler. After much discussion, it was decided that the Eldest Princess, Sylvia, would temporarily serve as Regent King, carrying out the duties of the Emperor.
And so it has been to this day.
Although everyone in the Imperial Capital knew that such a Sinful Blood Princess existed deep within the palace, no one would ever bring her up, pretending she didn't exist at all.
But now that Reiya had actually appeared before them, their disgust and hatred couldn't help but erupt.
The vicious taunts and curses were not hushed in the slightest. The maimed Dragon Girl in the wheelchair could hear every word clearly. However, as if accustomed to it, she remained composed, wheeling herself with some difficulty over to a fountain to look at a vibrant flowerbed.
"Such unpleasant, misplaced anger... Brother, there's nothing to see here. We should be leaving...!"
Yolanda shook her head, but as she was about to call out to Westheid, she was stunned to see that he was already walking straight toward Reiya.