Having decided to be with him, I knew we’d eventually marry, but the thought didn’t sit well with me just yet. Sys seemed to sense my hesitation, his brow furrowing slightly.
“Bee?”
“Just give me a little time,” I said.
“How long?”
“…”
“Are you trying to wear me down to death?”
His playful pout, looking up at me like a sulky child, reminded me of Rant, and I couldn’t help but chuckle. I ruffled his hair gently, as I would Rant’s.
“They say patience is bitter, but its fruit is sweet. The longer you wait, the greater the joy, don’t you think?”
“I might die before then,” he grumbled.
“You’re becoming more childish by the day.”
When I teased him, he protested, “I’ve used up all my patience just tolerating that guy by your side. Isn’t that enough?”
“You don’t like Evan?”
“How would you feel if another woman were glued to my side?”
The image of Duke Daysha’s daughter beside him flashed in my mind, and my brow furrowed reflexively.
“…It would be unpleasant.”
“See?”
He grinned triumphantly, quickly adding, “Why not tell him to focus on guild work? He can’t juggle two roles, can he?”
His eyes narrowed like a smug cat’s.
“I’ll consider it. But more importantly, where do you think you’re putting your hands?”
I pinched the back of his hand as it crept toward my backside.
“Your habits have gotten worse,” I said, swatting his lingering hand away.
“Tch, heartless fiancée,” he muttered, reluctantly pulling back. “I told you, it’s all because of you. Don’t I deserve some reward for my patience?”
I cupped his face in my hands. His childish antics didn’t bother me. Knowing only I saw this side of him filled the emptiness in my chest with a quiet pride.
“So, you don’t like it?” I asked.
“Who said I didn’t—”
I pressed my lips to his, cutting off his grumbling. His soft lips flinched under mine.
I teased his closed lips with my tongue, and after a moment, they softened, yielding. I slipped past, tasting the sweet lingering flavor of cake.
My tongue grazed his teeth, then curled around his, savoring his eager response. A low, satisfied groan rumbled from his throat.
“Haa!”
Slurp.
Taking advantage of his gasp, I licked his lips. His eyes widened, staring at me. I traced his glistening lips with my finger.
“That’s enough for today, Sys.”
My reflection smiled back in his fevered eyes.
“I heard there was a stir at Marchioness Engrail’s tea party,” Countess Rustyn said, offering me tea with flawless elegance.
“You’re well-informed,” I replied.
“At my age, news finds you whether you seek it or not.”
The tea, brewed at the perfect temperature for the perfect duration, was neither too light nor too dark—just right, like her meticulous nature.
“I heard it was your first tea party. How was it?”
“Quite entertaining.”
“Unexpected. I didn’t think it’d suit your taste.”
She raised her teacup with an amused look. I followed, sipping the tea, which flowed smoothly down my throat, though a touch lukewarm for my preference.
Silence lingered until the cups were nearly empty. Then she spoke.
“So, which side will you choose?”
“I’m not sure what you mean,” I said, feigning ignorance.
Her sharp gaze pierced through my deflection.
Countess Rustyn had thrived in the cutthroat social scene, holding her own against the First Consort’s dominance. She was seasoned and capable.
“When you meet enough people, you can read them by their speech and actions,” she said, her wrinkled eyes narrowing.
“I don’t know what you think of me, but I like you, Lady Eliant.”
“Thank you for the kind words, Countess.”
“As someone older, let me offer some advice. The social world is a political arena. You can’t navigate it alone. Even those you dislike must sometimes be kept close.”
She smiled kindly.
“Surprised by my words?”
“I may have misjudged you.”
Countess Rustyn was a resolute figure, unyielding as steel. Her offering such a conciliatory approach was unexpected.
“I had to be unyielding to survive. But you’re different. The position you aim for can’t be held by rigidity alone—it’s too brittle. Sometimes, blood must stain your hands. But there’s no need for you to dirty them yourself. Keep those who’ll do it for you close.”
She finished her tea and carefully set the cup down.
“Does that sound harsh?”
“Not at all,” I replied, mirroring her smile as I set my cup down.
“As you’ve likely guessed, I’m not that naive.”
“I’m glad I read you right.”
“Why tell me this?”
Her maids had been dismissed, leaving us alone. She personally refilled my cup from the teapot.
“Let’s just say I like you.”
“That’s not enough to convince me, Countess.”
Her enigmatic gaze met mine. I held it steadily. After a moment, she chuckled.
“You resemble the First Consort.”
My face soured reflexively. She laughed softly.
“Sorry if that offended you. I didn’t mean it badly.”
“I’m not offended, just curious.”
“Rivianka… no, the First Consort, was like you—relentless about things she couldn’t accept. Did you know she was a candidate for crown princess?”
“First I’ve heard of it,” I said, my voice calmer than the storm in my mind.
“I’m not surprised. Few like to recall those days.”
She sipped her tea, as if parched.
“My brother loved her dearly, to the point of falling ill. When she chose him, I blessed them more than anyone. She was my closest friend, after all.”
“…!”
Seeing my shock, she chuckled again.
“Hard to believe, isn’t it?”
“Honestly, yes.”
Few knew Countess Rustyn and the First Consort were friends, given their opposing positions in society.
“I must be getting sentimental, dredging up old memories. Forgive an old woman’s indulgence.”
“Not at all, Countess.”
“You’re a strange one, Lady Eliant. Sometimes your eyes seem like those of someone who’s lived a lifetime. Perhaps that’s why I find myself spilling my secrets.”
She set her cup down, gazing at me intently.
“You must know, Lady Eliant, that a generational shift is coming to the social scene,” Countess Rustyn said.
“…”
“I want you to take control of it.”
