“That’s enough, Countess Begince,” Baroness Bizdel interrupted, trying to stop her.
Countess Begince bristled. “Did I say something wrong? I was only trying to comfort Lady Eliant due to her suffering. Didn’t you do the same, asking after her the moment she arrived? Yet you act like I’m the only one out of line. Don’t you agree, Lady Eliant?”
Her face was defiant, as if she’d done no wrong. Baroness Bizdel flushed with embarrassment.
It was a familiar pattern. Stifling a sneer, I nodded.
“Indeed.”
Countess Begince smirked triumphantly, shooting a mocking glance at Baroness Bizdel before addressing me with exaggerated warmth.
“When I heard your news, my heart ached for you.”
“Thank you for your concern, Countess Begince,” I replied.
“Oh, don’t mention it!” she laughed, delighted by my response.
Her behavior was all too predictable—clinging to the powerful, showering them with flattery for personal gain, and turning away the moment it no longer served them.
“As you know, my husband and the Pison Guild have been close for years. I’d love to grow closer to you as well, Lady Eliant.”
“The honor would be mine.”
“Oh, the honor’s all mine!”
She laughed, satisfied, like a smug cat. Maintaining a gentle tone, I continued.
“But I’d prefer no further mention of my nursemaid.”
“…Pardon?”
Countess Begince blinked, as if she’d misheard, her awkward smile faltering. I deepened my smile.
Unlike before, I had no intention of being swayed by such people.
“It makes me uncomfortable.”
Her face shifted from shock to embarrassment, flushing red. A few women at nearby tables stifled giggles. Unable to lash out at me directly, she seethed, her face alternating between red and pale.
Ignoring her, I turned to a girl who’d been silently shrinking into herself throughout the gathering.
“It’s been a while, Levina.”
“O-Oh, it’s nice to see you, Lady Eliant,” she stammered, eyes wide, clearly not expecting me to address her.
“Didn’t we agree to use our names?”
“W-Well…”
“Call me Beeonne, Levina.”
“B-Beeonne,” she managed, her face scarlet with shyness.
House Asteya had long embraced a free-spirited ethos. Levina’s father, the current Viscount Asteya, had married a commoner despite his family’s objections. The Second Prince’s impulsive decision to leave the palace for alchemy studies likely stemmed from his maternal lineage.
Whether due to her family’s ways or her mother’s influence, Levina felt more like an ordinary commoner than a typical noblewoman. She was innocent, untouched by the ways of the world.
No one expected her to become the Marchioness of Retan—not even herself.
Marquis Retan, known as the “Beast of the West,” was as wild as his moniker suggested. Living near the Inayari border, where conflicts were frequent, shaped his rough demeanor, but he was also a man who reveled in combat.
His infamous act of falling in love with Levina at first sight, whisking her away to the west, and making her his wife was a tale still recounted with relish.
It’s not far off now.
If my memory was correct, Levina and Marquis Retan would meet at the upcoming New Year’s ball—the first I’d attend as crown princess. I remembered it vividly.
I studied Levina closely. Her neat forehead, small but full lips, and large, doe-like eyes were pretty enough, but not striking enough to warrant abduction.
Love is blind, I suppose.
They say love can make a pockmark look like a dimple. To Retan, Levina must have been a vision. Regardless, her future as his wife made her worth befriending.
In a way, I’m not so different from her.
Under the pretense of sipping tea, I glanced at Countess Begince. Her flushed face had calmed, but her glare betrayed her simmering resentment.
Tch, lost a client.
It was a pity to lose one, but not a significant loss. Count Begince’s mines were depleting, and our dealings were already dwindling.
His finances weren’t great either.
Recalling the guild’s reports, I dismissed any lingering interest in her.
“How long are you staying in the capital, Levina?”
“Until the New Year’s ball.”
“Are you staying at the Engrail estate?”
“Yes, the marchioness was kind enough to host me.”
Levina and Marchioness Engrail were cousins, sharing the same mother as the Second Prince.
“You’re here for your social debut, right?”
“Yes.”
“A shame. If I’d known you were here earlier, I’d have invited you to my coming-of-age.”
“N-No, it’s fine. I’m happy to get to know you now, Beeonne.”
Her chubby cheeks flushed as she shook her head vigorously, reminding me of a hamster.
Dogs, cats, now hamsters. Why do I attract animals?
Picturing Rant’s wagging tail and Sys’s feline intensity, I stifled a laugh. Levina’s transparency—her thoughts plain on her face—was endearing in its innocence.
Unlike her.
Her image overlapped with Levina’s, her innocent smile toward Sys chilling my blood.
“Oh, have you heard the news?”
“What news?”
A woman at another table clapped her hands, drawing attention with deliberate flair. The chattering women paused, focusing on her.
“They say Duke Daysha has come to the capital.”
“Goodness, Duke Daysha?”
“No way!”
The women gasped, feigning surprise.
Daysha’s arrival was days old—hardly news to anyone not living under a rock. Their exaggerated reactions had another motive.
“Why do you think he’s here?” one asked, voicing the room’s curiosity.
Unlike his dramatic entrance, which had set the capital abuzz, the duke had remained secluded in the palace, rejecting all visitors. Eager for any scrap of information, the nobles leaned in.
“I heard something…” the woman began, lowering her voice conspiratorially.
“They say it’s for his daughter’s social debut.”
“What! The duke has a daughter?”
“When did he marry?”
Listening to their chatter, I recalled the sparse records on Duke Daysha. Even the guild’s resources yielded little. His life was shrouded in mystery, especially regarding his wife—so little was known, her existence felt questionable.
Almost suspiciously clean.
No records of when or whom he married, or even if his daughter was truly his wife’s child. It felt deliberately obscured, fueling my suspicion.
“By the way, Lady Eliant, haven’t you met the duke?”
It was no secret that Duke Daysha had visited House Eliant. He made no effort to hide it, and I had no reason to conceal it either.
“Yes, I’ve met him,” I confirmed.
“What’s he like?” a woman asked, her eyes sparkling with curiosity. Every gaze in the room fixed on me.
I scanned them slowly before responding.
“How could I, with my limited perspective, judge someone like the duke?”
In truth, he was a man whose intentions were as opaque as a serpent’s, but I saw no need to share that.
Sipping my tea, I signaled the end of my answer. Disappointment flickered across their faces.
“What was his business with House Eliant?” another pressed, undeterred by my evasion.
I set my teacup down, replying evenly, “He asked me to befriend his daughter.”
