Chapter 73
The banquet hall was buzzing when Marco turned his head.
At that very moment, I leaned against the railing and shifted my weight outward. My upper body tilted, and then I began falling backwards.
I saw strands of my platinum hair whip upward as I plunged.
“Damn it! What the hell?!”
Marco’s startled voice rang out behind me, and then—splash!—I crashed straight into the fountain.
The crystal fountain in the garden was actually a wine fountain. Luckily, the lower basin was deep enough that I escaped injury.
“Cough, cough!”
Wine rushed into my nose and mouth.
Even if a terrace was considered a secluded, private place for two, an accident changed everything.
In an instant, the terrace filled with guests rushing in. Among them were the Crown Prince and Zion.
“That man suddenly rushed at me!”
Drenched and pitiful, I raised a trembling finger—pointing straight at Marco.
Every gaze locked on him.
“No! That’s not true!”
I shrank back, acting shocked and frightened. In moments like this, my reputation as a “villainess” worked in my favor.
Because I was usually thought of as proud and arrogant, my sudden collapse into fear would seem all the more genuine.
The noble guests who had crowded onto the terrace now stared at Marco in horror.
Farewell, Marco.
Transcendents are strictly forbidden from harming ordinary people. The gravest offense of all is attacking a Purifier.
For purification to happen, both physical contact and the Purifier’s will are necessary. Touch alone cannot achieve it.
In other words, purification cannot be forced.
Yet, some Transcendents had abused their overwhelming power in the past, forcing purification from Purifiers against their will. They had essentially tortured Purifiers with their powers and strength. Many Purifiers died or fled to foreign lands. Because of this, the law became merciless.
Of course, for B-rank Transcendents or lower, drugs alone are enough to prevent rampages—Purifiers aren’t even necessary.
Still, people would assume the worst. They’d imagine Marco tried to force purification on me, and when I resisted, he grew enraged and pushed me.
I could already see soldiers dragging him away. He’d be thoroughly investigated, and his history of threatening powerless women would come to light.
It was obvious from the way he acted—too practiced, too familiar.
And to attack a lady during the social season? That’s social suicide.
On top of that, Marco had ditched the training orders Johan gave him, pawning the task off on a subordinate. Defying an Admiral’s command meant punishment under military law, and ignoring the Crown Prince’s command meant he’d also be charged under imperial law.
Sure, I look ridiculous dripping in wine right now. But I’ll take that slight blow to my reputation.
Barchea’s nobility was conservative—especially in their views of women.
A lady in trouble, with no gentleman offering help? In society, that made her a target of ridicule as well.
I already had a reputation as a “wallflower.” This would only make me look more laughable.
But better that than being dragged around by a blackmailer.
Now soaked in wine, the cold began to set in. I shivered.
And then—I heard splashing behind me.
Before I could turn, a warm military jacket was draped over my shoulders.
“Darling, are you okay?”
I tilted my head upward. Victor was there, wrapping me in his arms.
Why is he here?
I widened my eyes in shock. Before I could make sense of it, Victor carried me out of the fountain.
Victor was acting strangely today.
Instead of the sloppy uniform he usually wore like some street thug’s school jacket, he was dressed in a neat khaki formal uniform.
He’d even pinned on medals he normally despised, slicked back his usually unruly hair, and put on a black officer’s cap.
In short, he looked exactly like the kind of pompous, pretentious peacock he always mocked.
“Shit. I can’t believe I came to this wretched place of my own will.”
He cursed crudely, scowling.
The only reason he was here—because he wanted to check on the woman who had been coughing up blood. The thought made him cringe.
“Why the hell did that idiot Crown Prince send her back here?”
I saved her life! I’m the one who’s her savior! Why does he get the credit?
Thanks to that, he had to drag himself into this glittering hellhole just to see if she was okay. His flawless skin was breaking out in hives just from being here.
Damn royals, always thinking only of themselves. One day, he’d show them what a coup felt like.
But when he entered the ballroom, grinding his teeth—there she was, Odette, dancing with the Crown Prince.
She looked perfectly fine. Yet strangely, something twisted inside him.
A wave of unbearable irritation surged, and he stormed out.
“Damn it. I knew I shouldn’t have come.”
Out by the front gate, he angrily ripped open the buttons of his formal jacket. That’s when a sudden scent of peach blossoms hit him.
An intoxicating fragrance, dizzying and irresistible.
His consciousness slipped. When he came to, he was standing by the fountain.
The fragrance had vanished completely.
What the hell? Did I just get lured by some phantom fire?
Victor’s power clashed with his body. Even using it slightly brought him pain.
So that enchanting scent felt like his brain would explode. Just a whiff had drenched him in euphoric heat, like a summer storm dousing his whole body.
Even after the scent faded, his eyes remained glazed.
Then—
“Kyahhh! Stop it!”
Odette’s desperate cry pierced the night.
And a woman fell into the fountain with a splash.
Why is she—?
Victor wanted to save her, but his limbs were still sluggish from the intoxicating haze. Even so, he stumbled toward the fountain.
Her white dress clung to her, revealing her silhouette. Victor draped his coat over her.
“Darling, are you okay?”
“C-Colonel Victor? Why are you… here…? Cough, cough!”
She must have swallowed a lot from that height. Her face was flushed, damp, and strangely alluring.
Her red ears and cheeks, her wet hair. Even covered with his jacket, she stirred a man’s imagination.
“What are you staring at, you bastards?”
Victor yanked his coat higher, covering her face, and glared at the spectators on the terrace.
Then he tied the sleeves of the coat together, bundling her up tight.
“C-Colonel?”
Her muffled protest came from beneath the coat as he slung her over his shoulder like luggage and strode out of the fountain.
Glancing back at the terrace, he saw Johan breaking some potato-faced man’s arms and legs. Their blue eyes met.
Yeah. Now I get it. What I felt earlier—that was jealousy.
That burning sensation in his chest back at the ballroom, the humiliation—it all made sense now.
Victor smirked at Johan.
And now, you’re the one feeling it, aren’t you, Your Highness?
He pressed a kiss to the bundle on his shoulder—Odette, though she probably didn’t even realize it.
Johan’s expression froze.
Satisfied, Victor strode out of the garden with light steps.
The humiliation he had felt earlier was repaid in full, and the relief was sweet.
