Chapter 77: Setting the Trap
In the end, the gathering that day ended early under a heavy, gloomy cloud.
After sending all the young ladies away, Nora paced her room alone, fuming—until her anger gave way to a creeping sense of dread.
If I lose this power struggle, it’s over for me. My parents will be furious, and my future…
Biting her nails, she squeezed her eyes shut, haunted by the words her parents had spoken to her just days ago.
“You useless girl. Why waste your time pining after someone and miss your chance at marriage? If you were going to be like that, you should’ve at least beaten Hugo’s daughter!”
“A woman’s value only declines with age. You’re already twenty-three! Who on earth would want to marry you now? Tsk, tsk.”
Because of her nature—once she fell for someone, she stayed in love for a long time—she had nursed an unrequited love for Damian for a full four years.
In that time, she had crossed the threshold into the age where prospects began to dwindle, and the man she had so desperately longed for had become another woman’s husband.
To Nora, it was Aracila’s fault her life had turned out this way.
Because of her, she’d lost the man she loved, and now faced the miserable fate of marrying someone chosen by her parents. There was no way she could let Aracila be happy.
I have to do something. I will do something about that woman…
As Nora agonized desperately over what to do, a crucial piece of news reached her.
Aracila was hosting her very first party in high society—and she had boldly announced that there would be no guest restrictions. Anyone who wished to attend would be welcome.
Nora immediately grasped the intent behind the move.
Hah, clever. That way, the guest list will balloon, and people from all sorts of other circles can attend without feeling like they’re betraying their current affiliations.
Since the invitation was open to all, attending wouldn’t be seen as abandoning one’s existing social group.
Nora’s lips curled in contempt at Aracila’s cunning. And yet, she also felt a burning desire to ruin that party.
As her thoughts spun and schemed, a sly smile gradually formed on Nora’s lips—a delicious idea had just come to her.
She’ll regret letting just anyone in.
***
A few days later, Nora made her way to the party venue, adorned in the most dazzling attire she could muster.
Unwilling to lose to Aracila, she had woken at the crack of dawn to prepare herself from head to toe. She had scrubbed, polished, and powdered until she shone. Her makeup was so heavy it bordered on unnatural, but she was deeply satisfied with the result.
Throughout the carriage ride with her partner, she gazed into a hand mirror, touching up her face obsessively. As they arrived at the Vandemir estate, she stepped down with a hint of tension flickering across her features.
Far off at the entrance stood a couple welcoming the guests.
Nora spotted Aracila, arm-in-arm with Damian, and a hot wave of jealousy surged through her, twisting her face into a slight scowl.
Honestly, what’s the big deal? Is this party so grand it warrants such a spectacle?
Traditionally, a hostess would stay inside and make her entrance later. To stand at the doorway like this—it felt more like a housewarming party than a formal gathering.
And worse, it reeked of a display meant to flaunt their marriage.
The closer she got to them, the more displeased she felt. The partner she had brought paled in comparison to Damian in every way, and the contrast made it all the more bitter.
It should be me by his side.
Swallowing the fire of envy building in her chest, Nora finally stood before the couple.
Upon seeing her, Aracila greeted her with a bright, welcoming smile.
“Lady White, you’ve come? I’m so glad to see you—please, come in.”
“It’s your first party, so of course I had to come and congratulate you. It’s been a while, Lord Vandemir.”
Nora spoke the words sweetly, though her heart held no sincerity. She then looked shyly toward Damian.
He glanced down at her briefly, then gave a slight nod in acknowledgment.
“Damian! You can’t be so indifferent when Lady White greets you.”
Aracila reached out and gently pinched Damian’s cheek. Even that light, fleeting touch made flames flare in Nora’s eyes.
For a moment, she nearly lunged forward to slap Aracila’s hand away—but just barely held herself back.
Damian, for his part, simply offered up his cheek without protest.
“Oh, I keep telling him to treat other women kindly too, but he never listens.”
Aracila let out an exaggerated sigh as she lowered her hand.
“He says everyone except me looks like a monkey to him. Honestly, what am I supposed to do with him?”
She caressed his cheek softly, eyes crinkling into a smile. Nora felt her insides twist into knots.
It felt as if Aracila were clinging to Damian on purpose just to spite her, and the smugness made Nora want to scream.
No longer able to bear the sight, she began moving off quickly with her partner—but was stopped short when Damian suddenly pulled Aracila’s hand toward him and said:
“With someone like you for a wife, who wouldn’t act that way? There’s a reason people keep calling me the luckiest man alive, isn’t there?”
“…Pardon? Oh—yes, of course.”
When Damian’s gaze turned toward them with that remark, Nora’s partner, caught off guard by the unexpected pressure, nodded without thinking.
But Nora saw only one thing: Aracila, half nestled in Damian’s arms.
She had leaned her face naturally against his shoulder and, upon meeting Nora’s gaze, gave a soft, cat-like smile.
Nora bit down on her lower lip so hard her lipstick seemed to drain of color.
Without another word, she turned abruptly and strode off. Her partner hurried after her.
As she wrestled with the storm boiling inside her, Nora whispered under her breath:
“You haven’t forgotten what I told you, have you? You’d better do it right.”
The young lord from the Smith family, attending today as her escort, gave a slow nod.
“Don’t worry, my lady. Just make sure you pay me what you promised.”
“Of course. I’ll not only pay off all your gambling debts—I’ll give you enough money to gamble even more.”
A satisfied smile spread across Lord Smith’s lips. Nora guided him to a spot along the far wall of the hall.
The party was now in full swing, and the space had turned boisterous in an instant.
Thanks to the open invitation policy, the venue was so packed one could barely take a step without brushing against someone.
At the center of it all stood Aracila, surrounded by people as the host and star of the event.
Seeing her so warmly received—chatted up with ease by the Duchess of Keyston and other prominent ladies of society—filled Nora with such intense jealousy she could barely breathe.
To be adored like that, with a capable and handsome husband at her side—that was the very dream Nora had once envisioned for herself.
If only I had married Lord Vandemir…
While sipping champagne, her gaze darkened as it stayed fixed on Aracila. Then, quietly, she called over a passing maid.
“Could you deliver this note to Madam Vandemir, without anyone seeing? Tell her she personally requested it.”
“Understood.”
The maid took the folded note with a polite bow and walked toward Aracila.
When Nora later saw Aracila discreetly leaving the hall alone, she signaled to Lord Smith. With a subtle nod, he melted away in the same direction.
Nora’s scheme was utterly malicious.
She intended to frame Aracila for having an affair with Lord Smith.
She had sent Aracila a note—claiming there was something urgent she needed to hear—luring her out to the garden. Then she sent Lord Smith in after her.
Once they met there, he would act like a secret lover, making a romantic confession and behaving intimately.
And then, once Lord Vandemir or someone else sees it—everything will be over.
It might have seemed childish or simplistic, but for a noblewoman—whose dignity and chastity were paramount—it was a deadly trap.
Nora smiled quietly to herself.
Though she had been the one to hand over the note to the maid, the handwriting on it was Lord Smith’s.
Aracila would have no excuse to claim ignorance.
And since Smith had agreed to cooperate in exchange for the clearing of his gambling debts, he would gladly give testimony unfavorable to Aracila.
If all went as planned, Aracila would be branded a shameless adulteress at her own party.
The very thought of it made Nora feel elated, light-headed. She raised her champagne glass and drank deeply, savoring the thrill of it all.
“My apologies to Madam Vandemir… not that I actually feel bad. It just can’t be helped, is all.”
Lord Smith hummed a casual tune as he made his way toward the garden where Aracila had stepped out.
He’d agreed to Nora’s deal because not repaying his gambling debts was essentially a death sentence—but still, he felt a faint pang of guilt at the idea of trapping an innocent noblewoman.
Not that it changed his mind in the slightest.
“So I confess to her first, then force a kiss or an embrace, right?”
He knew Aracila was a famous mage, but even she wouldn’t dare use magic openly on a fellow noble.
Mages from the Tower were legally restricted from casting spells on civilians unless sanctioned.
So as long as he made his move while she was flustered, he figured there’d be nothing she could do.
“Let’s see, I think she went this way…”
He turned a corner, cheerfully calculating the gambling funds soon to fall into his hands—only to be struck square in the chest by a flying orb of magic.
“Agh!”
“Oh dear, looks like I missed by a bit.”
Stunned, Lord Smith lifted his head. Aracila stepped out from behind the hedges, clicking her tongue lightly.
“W-what’s going on…?”
“What did Lady White order you to do?”
“Pardon? What do you mean?”
Startled by her sudden approach, Lord Smith instinctively scooted backward on his rear, trying to feign ignorance.
“Do you think it’s acceptable for a mage to attack a civilian like this?”
“Of course not.”
“Then why—”
“Because we’re in a quiet, secluded part of the garden. If I were to erase you right here, no one would ever know.”
Aracila beamed, all sunshine and sweetness. Lord Smith froze, dumbfounded.
“I really hate having to repeat myself three times. That was the second time. So—what did Lady White order you to do?”
“…”
“No answer? Well, I suppose the dead can’t speak.”
A flickering flame bloomed in her hand, large and ominous. Terrified, Lord Smith shot both hands into the air.
“I-I’ll talk! Please, don’t kill me!”
“Then get to the point—quickly and clearly. I’m not very patient.”
He nodded wildly, then spilled everything. Every detail Nora had ordered him to follow, he recited with trembling lips.
He had originally agreed to the plan under the assumption he had nothing to lose. But now, faced with the real prospect of death, survival instincts took over.
“What a petty, vile little scheme.”
Aracila chuckled dryly once she’d heard it all.
She extinguished the fire in her palm, then leaned forward slightly to look him in the eye.
“Lord Smith.”
“Y-yes?”
“If you want to live, you’ll do exactly as I say. Understood?”
He nodded furiously, eyes wide with fear. In their reflection, Aracila’s calm, smiling face hovered like a specter.
***
Nora, meanwhile, kept checking the time while nervously downing glass after glass of champagne.
She needed to head to the garden soon, with enough witnesses in tow to catch Aracila in the act.
“It should be about time now…”
She set down her half-finished drink and glanced over to where Damian was chatting with a group of nobles. If she led that exact crowd over, it would be perfect.
She was just stepping forward, planning what to say to draw them along, when—
“Pardon me, my lady.”
A maid appeared out of nowhere, handed her a folded note, and disappeared.
Puzzled, Nora unfolded the paper.
“It’s a disaster, Lady White. I accidentally… with Madam Vandemir… Please come alone to the west garden immediately. It’s urgent.”
What do you mean, ‘accidentally’? What happened to her?
The vagueness of the note irritated Nora. She scowled at the cryptic wording.
Still, she decided to go check alone for now. Clearly, something had gone off-script, and if things spiraled out of control, it would only make matters worse for her.
Out in the garden, she looked around, searching for Lord Smith.
If this is so urgent, where is he?
She debated whether to call his name aloud, then froze as a familiar voice spoke softly at her ear.
“Looking for someone, Lady White?”
─── ･ ｡ﾟ✧: *. ꕥ .* :✧ﾟ. ───
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