I wandered through the dimly lit hall, poking around among the nobles sipping their syrupy spirit-infused soda water, trying to dig up intel on the princess’s whereabouts.
“The Princess never leaves the hidden chamber. Everything gets resolved in there,” one young scion of a noble clan replied in a hushed tone when I casually asked after her.
Resolved? What the hell does that even mean?
Seriously, are all these capital-dwelling cultivators just perverts in fancy robes?
I ignored the strange smile he gave me and moved on quickly.
Tch. Damn it.
You’d think a princess with a reputation for being a shameless flirt would be hanging around with the most handsome male cultivators in the gathering, but no—she apparently never leaves the inner chamber.
My mother always said that if you want to win a man’s heart, you need to act fast and move faster. But of course, people with money and spiritual authority play by different rules.
I took another sip of the overly sweet soda—so sweet it left a bitter taste—and glanced up at the corridor on the upper floor.
There were only two rooms up there. One was clearly for preparing offerings—food, wine, incense. The other was sealed by a screen, no doubt the hidden chamber everyone kept whispering about.
That must be the inner sanctum?
Just then, a man emerged from behind the screen.
He stood out—not because he was flashy, but because he wasn’t. While the other men were dressed with the extravagance of peacocks competing for a celestial match, this one wore robes so plain they bordered on shabby.
More curious still, even as the young noble ladies around him cast subtle glances, he paid them no mind, walking with calm but firm steps as if fully focused on his dao path.
Well, he is the Princess’s chosen man,
I thought.
No wonder other women hold no interest for him.
With that, I strode straight toward him.
But… how was I supposed to strike up conversation?
That’s when I remembered the one fatal flaw in my plan:
My mother had secured five marriages for herself with her silver tongue, and yet I, her daughter, had never even had a single romantic entanglement.
If I’d known it would come to this, I should’ve paid better attention to her ridiculous “love-cultivation techniques” instead of rolling my eyes!
The only lines I could recall now were the cringey ones Philip used to reel in girls back at the tavern.
The closest thing I’d ever experienced to courtship was probably that one time Jack the cobbler gave me a chunk of bread while loitering around our pub… He was cute. I wonder where he is now?
No, no! Now’s not the time to get sentimental!
I hurried up the stairs, scrambling to piece together a strategy.
What should I say? Think… Think like Philip…
“How about… ‘Would you care for a cup of tea?’”
No, too bland. And who even drinks tea at a place like this?
“‘Wanna get wild with me tonight?’”
Ugh. Revolting.
“‘Was your father a thief? Because he stole the stars and hid them in your eyes.’”
Hmm…
…That’s actually not bad.
I clapped my hands together, pleased with myself. Not bad for something I just cobbled together on the fly.
“
Was your father a thief… was your father a thief…
”
I repeated the line over and over like a cultivation chant, committing it to memory as I reached the second floor.
There he was—coming down the corridor, shirt half open, hair disheveled… he
definitely
looked like someone who’d just been sparring in bed with the Princess.
Perfect choice,
I thought.
I deliberately walked straight into his path.
The plan: shoulder bump—just enough to make it natural—and then smoothly deliver the line.
“
Was your father a thieeeeeeef!
”
Except…
the moment our shoulders collided, the line I’d been chanting like a mantra came flying out of my mouth in full volume.
At my words, the man I had just bumped shoulders with visibly stiffened.
Ughhhhh!
I was so nervous that nonsense spilled out of my mouth.
I mean—how could I possibly know how to talk to a man, aside from Philip?! Especially with such…
unsavory
intentions?!
“Ah, no… What I meant was… I mean, that is to say…”
As I covered my mouth and began mentally flogging myself, the man’s expression suddenly relaxed.
“You—weren’t you staring at me since you came up those steps?”
“…Huh?”
He noticed?
I thought I’d been subtle about it!
As I blinked in surprise, the man gave me a cocky grin.
“Cute, huh?”
Cute? For what exactly?!
It was then that I finally caught the strong scent of alcohol on his breath. His eyes… weren’t focused.
Ah… so that’s how it is.
Thinking this could actually work in my favor, I gently took hold of his arm.
“Th-thank you… U-uh, why don’t we go over… that way…”
I subtly tugged on his sleeve, leading him closer toward the Princess’s private quarters.
If I want to stir up her jealousy, I’ll need to make a scene right where she can see it.
But how exactly does one “make a scene”? Just a little lip-to-lip contact, maybe? That should do the trick, right?
While I was still strategizing, the man suddenly grabbed my wrist—hard.
“Ah…!”
A small cry escaped my lips from the force of his grip.
“This way,” he said firmly, dragging me along like he didn’t care in the slightest about my pain.
We were getting farther and farther from the Princess’s secluded chamber.
Wait…? This isn’t right!
“U-uh, excuse me—could we just—go back that way—I said WAIT—!”
Just then, my shoe slipped off, tumbling down the shadowy stone steps.
“…Those were brand new!”
I glared at the man, my bare foot now touching cold marble.
“STOP RIGHT THERE!” I shouted.
He winced at my scream and finally halted.
So now you’re listening?!
“What the hell do you mean stop? I said let’s go—”
He tried to pull me again, his breath now reeking of something rotten.
I clenched my teeth and reached into my robes.
That’s when a shadow stirred from below the staircase. I didn’t have time to check who it was—
Because at that very moment…
A low voice echoed from the steps:
“Emelline Wedgwood. Didn’t I tell you… If anyone tries to lay a hand on you—”
Shhhhink—
Even before the voice finished, my dagger was already unsheathed and pressed cold and sharp against the man’s neck.
As his eyes widened in terror, I spoke in a chilling tone:
“I told you to stop. You should’ve listened while I was still being polite, huh? I’m
done
being polite.”
“U-ughghhghh…”
Still pressing the blade against his neck, I glanced down the staircase toward the source of the voice.
There, standing at the base of the steps, was a man staring up at me—
A single glass slipper in his hand, his expression a mix of shock and disbelief.
Eric d’Orléans.
You again…
I let out a long sigh.
Eric clenched his jaw.
I forced an awkward smile as I replied,
"To fight force with force—that’s what I was taught, Young Lord Eric."
Ha… ha… ha…
Would it kill him to just laugh it off and let this pass peacefully?
I summoned every last drop of charm I had left to stretch my lips into a grin.
"To fight force… with force?"
Eric’s brow furrowed, and I instinctively took a step back.
As if on cue, the man near me lunged forward and shoved me.
"Bringing weapons into the Rose that Blooms at Night? Are you insane?!"
Ugh—if this bastard reports me to the guards, I’m doomed!
But just as that thought passed, Eric suddenly hurled the glass slipper in his hand at the man charging toward me.
Thunk!
Direct hit.
“Urk…!”
Smashed square in the head, the man dropped without even a proper groan, completely knocked out.
My jaw dropped. It was called a “glass slipper,” but really it was just a translucent, slightly flexible shoe. And yet, a full-grown man had been taken down by that?
My eyes locked with Eric Orléans’s—his crimson pupils cold and unwavering.
So the rumors were true. He used to be the commander of the Royal Guard…
Was he an
Aura Swordsman
?
Aura—similar to ancient mana in nature, but channeled directly into weapons. Only those born with the right affinity could harness it… or something like that.
I didn’t know the full theory, but what mattered was—I’d never seen someone
actually
wield it with my own eyes until now.
Back in the South, people like that only existed in myths or bedtime tales.
Even though I’d learned to survive through sheer grit and trial by fire, what I did was more like dirty street brawling. Compared to that, a real Aura Swordsman was on another plane entirely.
Still stunned, I stood frozen as Eric Orléans climbed the stairs and approached with that same glacial expression.
"Why are you standing there like that?"
"W-What do you mean?"
I stammered, pressing myself flat against the wall.
"You're trembling like some countryside bumpkin again. Drop the act, Emelline Wedgwood."
But I’m not acting this time! This is genuine fear!
I shot him a glare, unable to contain my disbelief.
"You just knocked a man out cold!"
"And
you
drew a blade on someone."
That’s different!
I’m just a powerless girl from the provinces, and you’re an Aura-wielding elite cultivator!
Eric gave a glance down the corridor.
"The Princess is present here tonight. The guards would’ve tightened security and strictly monitored any weapon smuggling. So how did you manage to bring a blade past them?"
"Uh… well…"
I definitely couldn’t say I distracted the guard and rolled the weapon in behind his back…
Mother always said: no matter how charming the man, never be without your weapon.
Chapter 13