I watched as Margaret’s gaze rested firmly upon the princess, while Her Highness’s azure eyes glimmered with unmistakable satisfaction.
A sharp mind—no,
two
sharp minds.
“Isn’t that dress a bit too extravagant? Especially since today is also the Queen Mother’s—”
Just then, another whisper floated in from the side.
“His Majesty likely won’t attend the celebration either, right? They say he made an appearance at the memorial service, though…”
I glanced discreetly at the princess again. Of course, those nobles would never dare say such things within her earshot. But did she truly not hear? Did she truly not
know
?
Come to think of it, her birthday fell dangerously close to the death anniversary of the former queen—the very day Her Highness was born, the queen had succumbed to childbed fever.
The butler once told me that the people used to call her a cursed child.
Yet here she was, smiling serenely as though this day held no burden at all. She waited—waited for the whispers circling her bloodline, her attire, and her station to reach their crescendo.
And then, right when gossip burned hottest and most cruelly, she raised a hand.
A steward struck a crystal glass; silence fell upon the hall.
“I thank you all for answering my summons,” she said. Her eyes shone with what
looked
like sincere gratitude. A masterful orator. Every word dripped with political poise.
“Oh, and I’ve decided not to accept any birthday gifts this year. If you’ve brought something, kindly discard it in the garden. If not, my knights may mistake it for an explosive and destroy it.”
The nobles’ faces stiffened.
She smiled as she watched them freeze, and only after a long, awkward pause did stifled laughter begin to ripple through the hall.
Your Highness, must your jokes always sound like declarations of war?
Even when jesting, the princess’s face remained as placid as a still lake. After waiting for the laughter to subside, she snapped her fingers.
“Let us begin with a dance!”
At once, the musicians struck up a lively tune.
“……?”
But instead of the stately, refined music expected of a palace celebration, a boisterous, folksy rhythm filled the air. The nobles began glancing at one another in confusion.
Oscar clucked his tongue.
“How utterly vulgar.”
The Duke didn’t look far more pleased either. He stared at the princess with disdain clearly etched across his face.
Regardless, the guests slowly began to move aside, clearing the center for dancing.
I bit my lip. A quick scan of the room told me what I feared—Eric hadn’t arrived yet.
We were supposed to share the first dance…!
Panicked, I stepped toward the princess, only to be gently intercepted by a steward. But the princess waved her hand, allowing me through. I rushed up to her.
“Oh, the red-haired lady,” the princess drawled, lounging with her chin resting on her palm. “Has it really only been two weeks? Why does it feel like I missed you?”
That haughty voice—just as smug as her gaze. I take it back, all of it. She's not
that
pretty after all.
Recalling the butler’s teachings, I bowed and offered what etiquette I could muster.
“A thousand blessings upon your birthday, Your Highness.”
“Oh my. Seems you’ve learned to curtsy properly. In time, you may even lower your head in true submission.”
Her gaze lazily swept over me, her posture unabashedly improper for someone of her station.
“Still… it’s almost a shame. Your charm used to lie in that untamed defiance of yours.”
Oh, I’ll show you
defiance
, Your Highness. Just wait.
Swallowing down my inner fury, I forced a smile.
“Well, yes, but… Eric still hasn’t—”
He still wasn’t here! If people started whispering that the newlyweds couldn’t even honor the first dance together, the rumors would erupt before the music even finished! Would she kindly
stop the song
already?!
Before I could finish, the princess glanced over my shoulder with an amused smirk.
“…Your darling’s beauty pierces the heavens again today.”
Huh?
I turned toward the direction of her gaze.
Eric Orléans.
He stood in the center of the grand ballroom, like a cultivator descending from the heavens.
Pale skin, crimson lips, hair as black as midnight—his face was the very blueprint of handsomeness, and gasps of awe rippled through the room.
The noblewomen, especially, couldn’t take their eyes off his tall, graceful figure. He radiated an aura like a peerless sword—meant to be admired, but far too sharp to be touched.
“A decorative furnace... that’s all he is... just for display…”
But Eric, indifferent to all the attention, looked only at me, his expression unwavering—like a lone cultivator who had passed through tribulation to arrive at this moment.
He came.
I clutched my chest as I looked at him.
“Damn it… why did you have to show up so late and make my heart race like this… you bastard…”
I wanted to rush over and pound my fists against his chest—punishment for making me wait. But first, there were things I needed to ask… and things I needed to do.
The Princess's voice rang out, light and amused.
“So the rumors in the social world are true, hmm? That you two are so inseparable, you can’t live without each other. I even heard you call each other ‘darling.’”
I flinched and turned toward her.
Even that got out?
She chuckled, clearly pleased.
“In any case, you're doing well. Thanks to Eric slicing that painting worth a hundred thousand gold like it was a cake, no one dares to question the legitimacy of your union now.”
“But the papers are going crazy trying to link Your Highness with our marriage. Is… that really okay?”
I asked the question I’d been holding in for days. The Princess shrugged casually.
“Those mongrels cause a ruckus whether I breathe or hold my breath. Let them bark. I've lost a few things… but I’ve gained more.”
Her gaze drifted greedily toward Margaret.
Then she beckoned to me with a conspiratorial flick of her fingers.
And like a fool, I stepped forward. I didn’t want to—really, I didn’t—but whenever I stood before the Princess, it was as if I fell under some sort of spiritual suppression technique.
“More than anything,” she whispered, “I enjoy watching the young cultivators play their little love games. Red-haired girl.”
…What was she even talking about?
“But be careful with the public affection. Someone’s watching you—someone who would love nothing more than to sabotage your marriage.”
At the end of her words, she tilted her eyes toward the Duke.
I grimaced. Of course I knew the Duke was trying to get in our way. But still—!
“W-When did we ever engage in any public displays of affection? H-Have we, Your Highness?”
I stuttered, slipping back into palace etiquette.
Ella smirked.
“Oh, don’t pretend. You two don't look like a couple who’s shared their wedding chamber, that's why I said it.”
…What
do
couples who’ve shared the chamber even look like?
I glanced at her, and from the gleam in her eye, I could tell that if I asked, she’d be
delighted
to give details.
Nope. I do
not
want to hear that.
“Well then, Your Highness, I’ll be taking my leave—!”
I gave her a hasty bow and made my way toward Eric.
As I stepped off the stairs and crossed the dance floor, all eyes followed me—to me, and to Eric. To the so-called
inseparable
married couple.
Rather than pride in the success of our illusion, I felt something… off. The Princess’s words echoed in my head—about our “gaze.”
Now’s not the time to be thinking about that!
I steeled myself and looked up at Eric, whispering so only he could hear.
“…Did you find them?”
My mother and Philip! Those troublesome fools!
Eric replied in a low voice.
“No. But I will. There are dozens of knights stationed throughout the Imperial Palace.”
The palace? But Philip and Helena went to see the witch—why would they be
here
?
Why?
Don’t tell me… that cryptic remark from the Duke earlier…
“A shame. That you're alright. I’d thought the three of you swindlers at least had some loyalty among yourselves.”
…Did the Duke really take Philip and Helena?
I turned to look at him. I wanted to confront him, to demand where my family was.
I was ready to charge straight toward those crimson eyes. If the Duke had truly laid a hand on my kin, I might not have hesitated to draw my weapon and end him here—noble or not.
Even if Eric was watching.
The moment I imagined shooting the Duke dead right in front of Eric, a memory surged into my mind.
Me—shaking violently.
And Viold, bleeding before me.
“How dare you… betray the very father who gave you life…”
Ah… Viold.
My father.
My sin.
My karmic retribution.
As long as he lingered in my memory, I could never become someone like Eric.
It was
I
who betrayed the one who sired me, for the sake of my family’s safety.
And Eric… he’s the kind of man who would tear apart a painting worth one hundred thousand gold coins just to keep a single promise.
I—I was only pretending. I merely
acted
like someone righteous.
Viold had already corrupted my soul long ago.
Then suddenly, a pair of red eyes appeared before me—not the Duke’s.
They belonged to Eric, who had knelt down before me, looking up into my face.
He extended his hand.
“……?”
What was he doing?
“We should dance. You practiced, didn’t you?”
Ah. The dance.
I glanced around. Nobles were watching us closely.
Of course I couldn’t kill the Duke here. I had no blade, no spirit rifle—more than anything, I had no
power
.
No matter what had happened to my family, if I were to lunge at the Duke now, his guards would end me on the spot.
That was reality. The fact that a terrified twelve-year-old me had once stabbed Viold—that was nothing short of a miracle.
So I grabbed Eric’s hand tightly.
Yes. For now… let’s dance.
Gasps rose from the audience. Eric had lifted me lightly, one hand at my waist.
“Start with your right foot. Remember?”
“I… always remember…”
The music began to slow.
I clenched my teeth and wrapped an arm around Eric’s shoulder.
“Three… two… one…”
He began to lead me, slow and steady. With practiced ease, he guided my awkward steps with his perfectly fluid movements.
I barely looked up, focused on my feet as Eric helped me maintain posture. I moved as he led, and all I could do was follow.
Now and then, I glanced at his calm, unreadable expression.
But inside, my thoughts were chaos.
Why had Helena taken the ledgers? Who was the true kidnapper—the witch? Or the Duke?
I knew nothing. I was just being dragged through the storm.
And then—again.
I stepped on his foot.
Eric leaned in and whispered against my ear.
“Don’t let it show.”
Don’t let it show.
The moment those words hit my ears—my gaze locked with the Duke’s.
He was watching me with a strange, calculating look.
What…? What am I not supposed to show?
This seething hatred inside me? The brittle secret of this fraudulent marriage? Or maybe—
Just then, Eric spun me into the air.
Gasps filled the hall.
“Waaah…!”
I clutched his hands tightly.
And as my feet touched solid ground once more, thunderous applause erupted all around us.
The dance was over.
Chapter 85