Chapter 164: Jealousy
In the end, Aracila barely slept a wink all night.
Her mind was consumed with thoughts of her feelings for Damian, their uncertain future, and the inscrutable intentions behind his apparent acceptance of their eventual parting. The weight of it all kept her tossing and turning.
On the eve of the grand New Year’s banquet, one of the most significant events of the festival, Sally was silently horrified to see her mistress in such a disheveled state.
My lady, who always sleeps soundly no matter where she is, with skin that glows like moonlight!
Now, dark circles shadowed Aracila’s eyes, faint red veins threaded through the whites, and her complexion looked dull and dry. Yet, thanks to her innate beauty, she exuded a melancholic elegance rather than a worn-out air.
“Don’t worry, my lady,” Sally declared with determination. “I’ll make you look as stunning as anyone here!”
“Hm? Oh, sure…”
Aracila yawned, giving a half-hearted nod to her resolute maid. Honestly, she wouldn’t have minded even a perfunctory effort.
Her gaze drifted to the empty bed reflected in the vanity mirror.
Damian had risen at dawn and left, mentioning he was going for a light jog to shake off some physical tension.
If he had the energy to exercise so leisurely, he must have slept soundly—unlike her.
So, Damian really doesn’t care about our divorce… Lucky him.
Aracila let out a soft sigh. She was the one who’d broken their agreement by letting her feelings grow, but somehow, the unfairness of it gnawed at her.
A dull headache pulsed at her temples, and she pressed a hand to her forehead.
Sally hurriedly poured her a cup of tea, whispering with fierce resolve, “Trust me, my lady! I’ll make you the most beautiful woman in the world tonight!”
“Thanks…”
It seemed her maid had mistaken her mood for concern over her appearance for the banquet, but Aracila lacked the energy to correct her. She closed her eyes.
Surrendering herself to Sally’s capable hands was a relief like no other.
When the meticulous preparations were complete, Aracila’s appearance was nothing short of perfection. Her tired features had been smoothed away, leaving her face as flawless as a porcelain doll.
An off-shoulder sky-blue dress, crafted with layers of silver chiffon, hugged her slender, balanced figure, its narrow hem accentuating her graceful form.
Her voluminous lavender hair cascaded like a waterfall, half-tied to highlight her delicate face and the teardrop-shaped diamond earrings dangling from her ears.
Slipping into silver heels, Aracila stepped out of the dressing room to find Damian waiting, looking strikingly dashing.
He wore a black formal suit adorned with intricate gold embroidery, a crimson cape draped over his shoulders, and his hair neatly slicked back with pomade.
A few stray strands fell over his smooth forehead, but even that seemed to belong in a masterpiece painting.
“How are you feeling today?” Damian asked, extending his hand.
Aracila placed her hand in his, replying with practiced calm, “Very well. And you?”
“I’m good as well. Shall we go?”
“Yes.”
To an outsider, the couple appeared flawless. No trace of sleep deprivation showed, and their composed expressions gave nothing away. With that, they set off together.
The main New Year’s banquet was held in the grand hall of the southern palace, where the emperor resided.
The corridor leading to the hall was lavishly decorated with flowers. As they reached the doors emblazoned with the imperial crest, a herald’s voice boomed, “Sir Damian Vandemir and Lady Aracila Vandemir!”
The hall, illuminated by a massive chandelier encrusted with hundreds of diamonds, sparkled blindingly and teemed with people.
The couple found a suitable spot and stood together. Soon after, the arrival of the imperial family began.
Only two of the emperor’s children attended the New Year’s festival: Frederick and Lucas.
Gloria, still recovering from injuries sustained in the lamp explosion incident, had only greeted the diplomatic envoys and skipped the festival’s main events.
Though the emperor had several other children, only those of age were permitted to attend, leaving just Frederick and Lucas to make an appearance.
“His Majesty the Emperor!”
The emperor, a striking man with deep golden hair and piercing red eyes, appeared last. His commanding presence alone exuded authority as he stood on the dais, surveying the crowd.
The attendees straightened their postures and bowed their heads in respect.
Leisurely scanning the room, the emperor spoke, “After concluding last year safely and gloriously, I am truly delighted to face you all on this radiant first day of the new year.”
His speech was appropriately tedious and appropriately long. The audience listened motionlessly, observing proper etiquette.
When the emperor’s address concluded, the banquet officially began. Lively music from the court orchestra filled the hall.
It was customary in high society for couples to share the first dance.
Aracila danced smoothly with Damian before stepping aside to sip champagne, her mind relatively untroubled.
Though it wasn’t apparent, her lack of sleep left her slightly weary.
As her gaze idly swept the hall filled with exquisitely dressed guests, it lingered briefly on Frederick.
Surrounded by his entourage, he was laughing and chatting merrily.
“Seems like losing Marquis Grant, his right-hand man, didn’t hit him too hard,” Aracila murmured, half to herself.
Following her gaze toward Frederick, Damian nodded lightly. “There are plenty of people to fill that role. Whether they’re as capable as Marquis Grant remains to be seen.”
“True. If they were that competent, he’d have kept them close from the start, wouldn’t he?”
There’s always a reason someone is a second choice. Even if Frederick seemed fine for now, losing Marquis Grant would likely exact a steep toll in the long run.
Just then, Damian spotted his father, busily introducing Oscar to various guests not far from the crown prince.
“My father’s breaking his back today, too, tending to his lackluster son,” Damian said, his voice laced with mockery. A faint click of his tongue made the Vandemir father-son duo seem all the more ridiculous.
Aracila stared at them with clear disapproval. One was a heartless man who’d thrown his son into danger, and the other a shameless scoundrel who’d nearly killed his brother just yesterday.
I won’t rest easy until I see those two brought low.
She was about to voice that thought to Damian when—
“Hello.”
A voice, clear and sweet as a bell, cut in abruptly. Both Aracila and Damian turned their heads to see a familiar young woman standing there, smiling.
Aracila immediately recalled that she was someone she’d spoken with before—one of the envoys from the Kingdom of Kent.
Her name was… Leona Cordell, wasn’t it?
She remembered that Prince Noah had referred to her as the “Little Marchioness Cordell,” the heir to one of Kent’s most prominent noble families.
“I’m Leona Cordell. You can call me the Little Marchioness Cordell. It’s been a while since we last spoke, Lady Vandemir.”
“Indeed, it’s nice to see you again.”
Aracila returned the greeting with a polite, social smile.
Leona’s sparkling, keen eyes betrayed a sense of purpose. She hadn’t approached them just for casual conversation.
“You must be busy, so thank you for coming to us first. Is there something you needed?”
Aracila opened the door for her, and Leona responded with gratitude.
“It’s nothing much, but I was hoping to have a dance with Sir Vandemir. Would that be alright, my lady?”
For the first time, the graceful curve of Aracila’s smile stiffened.
In high society, dancing with someone other than one’s spouse wasn’t uncommon. It happened when the host or guest of honor was married, when there was mutual familiarity, or when propriety demanded deference to someone of higher status.
The issue was that Leona fit none of those categories.
Though she was a “Little Marchioness,” she wasn’t a full marchioness, meaning neither Aracila nor Damian were obligated to show her special deference.
Still, Aracila couldn’t bring herself to refuse Leona, who had courteously asked her permission first.
She mentioned this is her first time attending as an envoy, and she doesn’t have many connections in the empire.
Understanding her situation, Aracila couldn’t be so harsh as to dismiss her outright.
Leona had likely come to her, someone she vaguely knew, to ask for a dance with her husband because few men had approached her directly.
“Would that be too much to ask, my lady…?”
As the silence stretched, Leona’s face fell into a pout. Aracila hesitated, glancing at Damian before replying, “No, it’s just that my husband’s opinion matters more in this case. If he’s fine with it, so am I.”
“Oh, I see! Sir Vandemir, would you do me the honor of a dance?”
Leona asked with utmost politeness. Aracila, for reasons she couldn’t quite name, felt a twinge of tension as she awaited Damian’s response.
Without much hesitation, Damian replied, “Very well.”
“Oh, thank you so much!”
Leona beamed, bowing gratefully to both Damian and Aracila.
Most of the male nobles at the New Year’s festival were married, so no one had asked her to dance. The kindness of the Vandemir couple was deeply appreciated.
“I’ll be back soon,” Damian said.
With a bright smile, Leona took his hand and led him to the center of the hall.
Aracila stared after them, slightly stunned. She hadn’t expected Damian to actually agree, and the realization hit her hard.
He wasn’t one to enjoy physical closeness with others.
Yet there he was, one hand holding Leona’s, the other resting on her waist, his deep, soulful eyes lowered to meet hers.
For the first time, Aracila saw him dance with another woman.
Leona was shorter than her, making the height difference with Damian even more pronounced as they stood together.
Watching them move in time to the music, Aracila clenched her teeth. It felt as though someone had piled kindling in her chest and set it ablaze.
A feeling she’d never experienced before consumed her entirely.
It was jealousy. Even when faced with a more skilled mage, she’d only felt competitive, never envious. Now, she was utterly disoriented.
I feel like such an idiot.
She was digging her own grave. Instead of suppressing her feelings, she’d created a situation that only fanned the flames.
She should have risked the gossip and rejected Leona’s request outright.
Seeing Leona glance up at Damian with a shy smile only made the fire burn hotter.
Aracila’s expression grew increasingly sullen as she struggled to hide the boiling emotions within. Her crossed arms tilted into a defensive posture.
Just then, someone sidled up beside her.
Damian had agreed to dance with Leona for one reason alone: he thought it would benefit Aracila.
He’d heard she’d made acquaintances with the Kent delegation at the envoy reception.
If he, her husband, acted coldly here, it could harm her reputation.
Moreover, he’d noticed a flicker of discomfort on her face and wanted to resolve it, making it impossible to refuse.
This is tedious. When will it end?
Throughout the dance, Damian moved mechanically, barely registering Leona’s occasional glances.
Even with another woman so close, his attention was fixed on Aracila, standing at a distance.
She looked displeased, her expression growing pouty. Her soft, rabbit-like eyes sharpened into something feline as she glanced upward.
What’s got her so upset? I can’t just go ask her now—it’s maddening.
The song was nearing its end. Damian suppressed the urge to break away and rush to her.
As her husband, he had to maintain propriety.
As he took the final step of the dance, his eyes narrowed.
A stranger had appeared beside Aracila.
The man, handsome and tall, was Prince Noah of the Kingdom of Kent. He was speaking to her with a warm, easy smile.
What are they talking about?
Seeingස
Seeing Noah lean in close, whispering something to her with his hands clasped behind his back, Damian’s brow furrowed instinctively.
As if answering his impatience, the music finally ended.
Damian quickly escorted Leona back to Aracila. She had been laughing and chatting with Noah, but her expression turned cool the moment Damian returned.
“My lady.”
“You’re back, Damian?”
“What brings Your Highness here?”
Damian stepped close to Aracila’s side, offering Noah a slight bow. Noah returned the greeting warmly and said, “I was just asking Lady Vandemir for a dance. I was waiting my turn, and since the spot beside her opened up, I jumped at the chance.”
“So it seems I’ll need to head out with His Highness now. The next piece is about to start.”
Before Damian could respond, Aracila moved toward the center of the hall with Noah. He stared after them, momentarily dumbfounded.
Of course, he had no grounds to object, having just danced with Leona himself. Still, it irked him that Aracila barely spared him a glance or a smile yet was all warmth with Noah.
Leona’s next words poured fuel on the fire.
“How fortunate. Our prince has actually been quite taken with Lady Vandemir for some time.”
─── ･ ｡ﾟ✧: *. ꕥ .* :✧ﾟ. ───
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