LWRF 36

Mariana offered a brooch, but Anze couldn’t bring herself to accept it right away.

“Why? You don’t like it?”

“It’s not that—it’s just… far too much.”

The delicate butterfly brooch looked as if its wings might flutter at any moment. It was clearly not the kind of thing one could buy simply with money.

“Too much? You’ll be entering alongside the Duke of Syde. You can’t forget that the whole of Ahendel rests on your shoulders.”

Ahendel.

How could she forget that the Empire’s most beautiful port city depended on her? Even so, this gift felt excessive.

“Didn’t you once tell me just to keep working hard?”

Though it was little more than a mutter, the Dowager understood and gave a short laugh.

“You hold grudges more than I thought. So—have you set your heart on my son?”

“No! Absolutely not.”

Anze nearly jumped from her seat in denial, but the Dowager’s sharp gaze only narrowed further. Why look at her like that when she’d said no?

Anyone who had watched the two of them during the past week’s piano lessons would know how much Anze went out of her way to avoid meeting the Duke.

Taking the brooch from Mariana, the Dowager carefully fastened it to Anze’s dress.

“Well then, that’s a relief.”

Her tone carried a strangely teasing edge.

Despite the season being spring, the morning air was chilly.

The first day of the imperial banquet.

Yet the cold wind couldn’t suppress the city’s excitement. From early morning the streets were alive: every tree branch bore hothouse blooms, and colorful ribbons and ornaments draped the grand avenues.

The banquet itself would not begin until late afternoon, but nobles from the provinces, eager not to miss even a hint of the Empire’s grandest event, were already hurrying toward the palace.

The main roads were a tangle of carriages and shouting coachmen.

By late afternoon, when the capital’s highest nobles began making their way to the palace, all that commotion would quiet down again.

From a towering mansion in the city center, Marquis Crow watched the bustling scene and curled his lip.

“They look like insects.”

Hildegard barely reacted to her grandfather’s venom, quickly tearing bread into pieces to drop into her soup.

A month of near-starvation in preparation for the banquet had left her at the edge of endurance. Irritation flared constantly, and now she even felt faint. And tonight, of all nights, she would have to stay standing until late.

Just as she raised a spoonful of soup and bread to her mouth—

“What are you doing?”

Isn’t it obvious? Her eyes gave the answer as she moved to take a bite. But the Marquis’s cold voice cut through the air again.

“Have you forgotten what I said? You have work to do.”

Suppressing a sigh, Hildegard lowered her spoon and drew a deep breath. She couldn’t let her frustration show.

“The Duke of Syde isn’t the sort of man who falls for a pretty dress and a bit of flirting. You know that.”

She quickly scooped the soup into her mouth. The Marquis’s frown deepened.

“Not that.”

“Then what?”

Instead of answering, he gestured to a servant.

“Clear it away.”

Without asking Hildegard’s permission, the servant removed the bread, salad, and soup one by one.

It hadn’t been much of a meal anyway—just water simmered with potatoes and vegetables. Yesterday she’d skipped even that and survived the whole day on water alone.

The food at the orphanage where she’d grown up had been better.

Her downcast eyes caught her own reflection in the bare tabletop: an expensive gown, flawless skin, hair meticulously groomed. People everywhere bowed to her now.

A far cry from the orphan she once was—so why did she feel more miserable?

“The banquet is soon enough,” the Marquis said.

“And what if I collapse and die before then?”

Hildegard’s deadpan retort made him burst into laughter.

“Just endure a few more days. No one dies from this. And yes, the Duke is not easily swayed, but in the end he’ll take the Crow family’s hand. Not because he likes you, but because he has no choice.”

Seeing her bite her lower lip, the Marquis shook his head.

“Still, you can’t let yourself go. A woman’s appearance is always important—especially today.”

He reached out and brushed a thumb over her chapped lip with a smile that didn’t reach his eyes.

“I told you, you must be this year’s ‘Lady of the Year.’ Will you trade that for a bowl of soup?”

Her desperate hunger made her feel she might trade even more than pride, but Hildegard quietly shook her head.

The Marquis wasn’t holding her pride hostage—he held her future.

Perhaps something even more vital than her life.

With his wealth and power, he could throw her back into that filthy, broken hut with nothing. There were surely countless other girls who could play the role of his granddaughter.

“I haven’t forgotten. Surely you don’t think I’ll lose the Lady of the Year title to some insignificant woman?”

A servant returned with a teacup. The tea, said to brighten the skin, carried a faintly bitter scent.

The empty stomach burned as the hot liquid went down.

“You’re young, so you don’t understand,” the Marquis said.

A servant swiftly lit his pipe. He drew on it until his cheeks hollowed and exhaled a thick cloud of white smoke.

“The world is full of hidden variables, traps the gods lay for their own amusement. To avoid them, you must be extremely careful.”

He spoke gently, like a kind grandfather, but through the drifting smoke his stretched smile looked anything but benevolent.

Hildegard wrinkled her nose at the acrid haze.

“If you’d seen that female aide even once, you wouldn’t speak so calmly. Those vulgar black eyes and black hair are impossible to look at.”

She suddenly covered her mouth, eyes softening, though the corners of her lips curled upward.

“Oh my, forgive me, Grandfather. I didn’t mean to imply anything about your appearance. I was only speaking of the Duke’s aide.”

“You do say the strangest things. But I trust you,” he said with a chuckle, exhaling another cloud of harsh smoke straight toward her.

“Cough—! cough, cough!”

Was he trying to choke her to death? Hildegard struggled to stifle the coughing fit and glared at him.

“So you’re confident, then.”

“Cough… Yes. From the start, she was never a match for me.”

“Good. I believe you.”

The Marquis nodded and tapped his pipe against the ashtray. At that signal a servant hurried to fling the windows wide, letting the sharp spring air sweep the smoke outside.

Finally able to breathe, Hildegard shot the servant a tearful glare.

Couldn’t you have done that sooner?

But she was both the Marquis’s granddaughter and, in truth, a stranger—perhaps even lower than a servant.

No servant would trouble themselves over her discomfort.

“On that note, I’ll go prepare,” she said.

The Marquis nodded toward the door. “I’m counting on you.”

Just as she turned to leave, he added, as if remembering something,

“By the way.”

“Yes?”

“That man—Martin, or whatever his name is. The one escorting you to the banquet.”

“…”

“Keep him out of my sight. I ordered the carriage to wait at the back entrance. The Duke will have taken the hint by now. A man, when pushed too hard, can grow angry. Better not let too many eyes see you and that fellow together.”

Hildegard blurted the foolish question before she could stop herself.

“Grandfather… who is more important to you—me or the Duke of Syde?”

She immediately bit her lip in regret, though part of her longed to know the answer.

The Marquis’s eyes curved in a rare, almost affectionate smile.

“Of course my granddaughter is dearest. But tell me, if I had no money, would you stay by my side? Hildegard, remember this well: secure the Duke. For a pretty girl like you, it’s easy.”