Chapter 66
The man politely asked Paula for her understanding, then took her hand and carefully helped her to her feet.
“I’m here at the imperial palace for the first time, and I got lost. In my haste, I must have committed quite a rudeness. I apologize.”
After supporting Paula, the man picked up his palace pass that had fallen to the floor. His name was written on it:
“Count Gustav Quendel.”
The moment Paula saw that brass-colored pass, her heart dropped.
“Quendel? Gustav Quendel?”
It was him—the only one among the hundreds of invited guests who met Gisela’s conditions.
“Count Quendel…?”
The reason he was invited to the palace for the first time was that he had inherited the title from his father, the former count, who had passed away.
His inherited territory was so far from the capital that he only attended the imperial ball to pay respects to the emperor when the lordship changed hands.
“Yes. That’s correct. You know me. Have we met somewhere before?”
This time, he said, he was attending the ball to find a bride.
“Gisela… is serious, then.”
Honestly, when Paula realized that Gustav Quendel was the only real candidate, she briefly wondered if Gisela had been toying with her.
He wasn’t a high-ranking noble, but a hereditary noble with valuable lands far from the capital.
“The Quendel estate is far from the capital, but no disasters have ever occurred there. Fertile and spacious farmland…”
The Quendel family had a short history but immense wealth—truly, an abundance of money.
Frankly speaking, a maid like her wasn’t a candidate. Being Count Quendel’s wife was a marriage even high-ranking noble daughters would envy.
And this man… was handsome.
“They said he’s just rich, not remarkable in appearance. That he looks fifty in his thirties… what is this? He’s a complete handsome man…”
“I-I’m just a maid. Please lower your tone.”
Paula immediately softened her previously sharp voice, shifting her stance.
“Could it really work out between us? Me becoming the lady of the Quendel estate?”
The ring in her palm, supposedly a “lucky ring,” truly seemed to bring fortune. In this vast garden, such a moment…
“Ah… a maid, huh.”
The man continued in a tone tinged with regret.
“What a pity. I fell in love at first sight. I thought I had met the lady I was destined to marry…”
He looked like he was in his late twenties, slightly taller than average, with a gentle voice.
Not quite an S-class transcendent whose beauty could topple a nation, but handsome enough to be admired anywhere.
“Could you tell me your name?”
“Pa… Paula, Count Quendel.”
The fair and straightforward young man smiled and said her name after her.
“Paula.”
Paula realized for the first time how beautifully her name resonated.
Spellbound by his smile, she didn’t notice that, in that very brief moment when he picked up the ring, the prepared replica and her ring had been swapped perfectly.
“Well, a wallflower isn’t bad either. You can easily see the garden from the window.”
I chuckled softly, watching Paula and the man through the window.
All the debutantes had likely already paid their respects to the emperor. At nine o’clock, the ball would officially begin.
At this time, the journalists would leave the hall, leaving only the guests invited to the ball—the official start of the evening.
That meant that whatever happened after nine o’clock would spread little by rumor.
So, if one wanted to monitor, it should have been done from nine onward, Paula.
“Well, that girl probably believed her mother would return quickly, but that’s impossible.”
The empress had been anxious over Johan’s rampage. She had put on a brave front, but now, requesting an audience after the danger had passed… the empress would not meet her mother easily.
And not even watching the first dance? That was madness.
By failing to observe the minimum etiquette toward the royal family, the empress’s loyal ladies-in-waiting must have regarded her mother with great disdain.
They would make her wait endlessly in the reception room without letting her leave.
“Paula, congratulations. Seems you’ve met the ‘man of destiny’ to save yourself.”
Odette whispered quietly toward the small figure visible by the window.
Handsome, elegant manners, abundant wealth—Count Quendel was perfect in every way.
But his true identity was Damien, a subordinate of Goetz.
The real Gustav Quendel had been holed up at Odette’s recently opened casino, eyes bloodshot from poker.
The real Quendel couldn’t even imagine that his ID was missing.
It would take at least a year before he realized the one he had now was a fake.
“The Quendel family is famous, but the eldest son who inherited the title is visiting the capital for the first time, so no one knows his face.”
Thus, Damien, holding the real ID, could perfectly impersonate Count Quendel for the entire social season.
His skill at creating forgeries was impressive—Paula’s ring, the ID—both flawless.
“Paula, you often asked me while disciplining me, right? Can something fake ever receive true love?”
I looked away from the window and laughed.
One of the stupidest things in the world is to act noble while seeking revenge.
Revenge and nobility cannot coexist. To exact revenge, one must willingly stoop to their level.
So, I must stoop to Paula’s level.
As you deceived me, I too shall deceive, trick, and steal from you.
“You were so confident before, I’m curious. Will you give fake love to the fake Quendel? Or real love?”
Having dealt with the disasters, Johan hesitated to enter the ballroom despite arriving late.
He had changed into a white formal uniform, but attending a social season ball often carried more disadvantages than advantages.
Even his father, the emperor, would exploit his attendance to boost his own prestige.
“Still… I can’t help worrying about her.”
Was she okay after vomiting blood? Had she been tormented further at the count’s estate? Maybe she needed his help now?
There were too many questions.
“Should I check the mirror one more time?”
He had been embarrassed the last time he had brought her to the mansion in a bloodstained shirt.
The girl must have thought him unreliable—a disgrace as a naval admiral, perhaps, leaving her unimpressed.
As the face of the imperial navy, he should have cared more.
“Yes, better check the mirror once more.”
He even thought he looked slightly uglier than usual today.
Just as he turned, the ballroom door opened from the inside, and he made eye contact with the chamberlain.
“Chamberlain, wait—”
“Ah! My goodness! Guests of the imperial ball! An unbelievable figure has arrived!”
‘I wanted to tell him not to make such a fuss.’
Before Johan could stop him, the overly dramatic chamberlain announced loudly the entrance of the crown prince.
‘How can his reaction be so fast?’
Even faster than a trained S-class transcendent.
Johan, unable to check the mirror, glared at the short chamberlain with resentment.
But the oblivious chamberlain only raised his voice further.
“By divine grace, the small sun of the empire, the guardian of faith, His Imperial Highness the Crown Prince has arrived! So busy, yet he comes to this place! You are truly fortunate!”
Even the emperor’s voice could be heard, awkwardly praising him.
“Oh! My proud son! Johan has arrived!”
‘Sigh.’
The emperor, though jealous of his son, wanted to bask in his glory.
His greatest achievement was “having Johan as my son,” yet he sought to exploit him for prestige.
“Your Majesty.”
Johan had no choice but to head to his prepared royal seat.
Guests would remain kneeling, not raising their heads until he sat.
Once seated, Johan immediately spotted Odette. Even without the scent of roses, she was easy to find—her posture was always noticeably proper when bowing.
But why did she look so thin? She seemed even more emaciated than a few days ago.
He remembered the first day he met her. Even then, she had been very thin.
Johan, who had no interest in women, had his ideal shaped by Odette on their first meeting.
‘I hope she’s the complete opposite of that girl. I couldn’t bear any resemblance.’
Awakening at age four, he had nurtured a romantic notion of purifiers until eighteen. He had cherished the word “purifier” for so long.
As a transcendent, he had vowed to revere and devote his life to purifiers. Fourteen years of anticipation, yet upon meeting Odette, he immediately sensed something was wrong.
Nothing matched his expectations. The power he thought would make him leap for joy was indifferent, the purifier’s scent was headache-inducing, and she was terrified.
Most of all, she was extremely small, almost buried in her deep pink lace dress.
What should he do?
It wasn’t the power making him joyful…
The pounding of his heart, the heat rising in his body, his trembling hands—
In that moment, Johan could neither be crown prince nor transcendent. He was just a helpless boy.
