Episode 10

Yulia’s salon.

There was no official name for the salon run by Former Imperial Princess Yulia, yet at some point everyone simply began calling it Yulia’s Salon.

Yulia, the current emperor’s only sister, had never married.

Her standards were so high that no one in the empire pleased her. Time slipped by, her marriageable years passed, and the late emperor pressed her:

“My beloved princess, why do you not wed? Is there truly no one in all this empire to your liking?”

“They’re all pretenders to my eyes—how could such men ever catch my interest?”

The late emperor tried everything to see her married, even seeking a husband abroad, but without success.

As a second-best solution, he authorized a gathering for her: a salon.

He believed that if Yulia mingled with people regularly, someone might eventually reach her heart.

Thus began a royal first—hosted by the imperial family, yet closed and unofficial. Yulia’s Salon was born.

Before long, her salon became a place every noble knew of but could not enter without invitation.

Even if it was the late emperor’s sister hosting, there was a reason everyone longed to attend:

Yulia, famed for her exacting taste, handpicked talent.

Looks, skill, ability, character, learning—if you were lacking in even one, you wouldn’t get a toe past the threshold.

An invitation to Yulia’s Salon was practically a seal of approval as a person of merit.

For me, being invited here meant earning a clear mark in society before my official debut.

There was no reason to refuse such an opportunity; if anything, it was the sort of place I should have been striving to enter—yet the invite had come to me unexpectedly.

Moreover, the childless former princess treated Prince Adrian like a son.

There was Empress Olivia, yes—but she was frail of spirit and often dragged along by Consort Rosetta.

For Prince Adrian, having Former Princess Yulia as a patron could only be a boon.

The countless talents that passed through her salon became her network—her people.

At times, a single word from her carried as much weight as the emperor’s.

The door opened and Basha entered, carrying an envelope stamped with Yulia’s seal.

“An invitation from His Highness Prince Adrian, my lady.”

The invitation was as lavish as its sender’s reputation. I opened it.

…What? There’s nothing inside.

I peered back into the envelope, bewildered. Just as I set it on the desk—

Pop!

A blast like fireworks exploded with a flash of white light.

A confident, unfamiliar voice rang out within the glow:

[Lady Rovlien Calix, you are invited. —From Yulia.]

What in the world?

I looked at Basha, dumbfounded. She also seemed startled.

“Are you all right, my lady?”

“I—I’m fine. It’s just… pff—!”

I couldn’t help it; I burst into loud laughter. Who wastes expensive magic on an invitation?

After laughing myself breathless, I quickly schooled my face.

I found myself genuinely looking forward to visiting Yulia’s Salon.

But not empty-handed.

I turned to Basha.
“I should prepare a gift for Her Highness before I call on her. What do you think she’d like?”

“I’ve heard Former Princess Yulia has a hobby of collecting things that are unusual—or amusing.”

“Something special, then?”

She’d lived wanting for nothing. Whatever ordinary treasure I offered, she likely wouldn’t find it special at all.

Arms folded, I sank into thought. While I pondered, Basha waited quietly.

“Basha, do you know what people are most curious about?”

At my sudden question, she answered evenly,
“Do you mean… gossip, my lady?”

I lifted the corner of my mouth and looked at her.

She understood at once.

Calmly, Basha spoke of a recent incident.

“Recently, the Marquisate of Descartes reported that their heirloom has gone missing. A large-scale investigation was launched, but they’ve yet to find a suspect—or even a clue.”

I replied offhandedly,
“Is that so?”

“Shall I identify the culprit?”

I stared at her, stunned by how casually she asked. What she meant was simple: if the House of Calix wished to know, we could.

“I don’t think that’s necessary.”

If memory served, the culprit behind the Descartes heirloom theft wouldn’t be revealed for a few years yet.

When it finally came out, the whole world roared—understandably so. Even someone like me, who cared little for gossip, remembered it.

Basha’s brows lifted.
“Then… you already know who did it, my lady?”

I lifted a shoulder, feigning ignorance.
“No. It’s gossip, that’s all. Still, when I visit the salon, I should at least know what’s going on in the world, shouldn’t I?”

“Indeed.”

I tapped the invitation envelope on the desk with a fingertip.

“In any case, I should go out. I can’t visit Her Highness empty-handed.”

“I’ll make arrangements at once.”

She moved briskly. Come to think of it, this would be my first outing since coming to Grand Duke Calix’s estate.

I half-expected them to forbid me, since I’d never gone out before—but permission came easily.

Following Basha outside, I found an opulent carriage waiting.

That much I expected. But the long line of knights assembled behind it…?

It’s not as if I’m heading to war.

“Basha, what are all those knights for? We aren’t taking all of them, are we?”

In her usual even tone, she replied,
“His Grace insisted. As it’s your first outing, he’s extremely concerned…”

“All right. We’ll do as he wishes.”

Even she seemed to think it excessive; she checked my face for displeasure.

I made a point of ignoring it and stepped into the ostentatious carriage.

The interior glittered no less than the outside. The seat was so plush there wasn’t a single hard edge to press against.

It felt… familiar, somehow. I remembered the day I first met Grandfather.

Facing Basha, I asked,
“Basha, tell me this isn’t Grandfather’s carriage.”

“It is, my lady. His Grace said you should use it until your own is ready.”

What. Is everyone insane? Who hands the grand duke’s carriage to his granddaughter?

“Then what about Grandfather? Ah—never mind.”

For once, Basha smiled faintly. Somehow, that smile made me suspicious.

I looked out the window instead. We had left the Calix grounds; unfamiliar streets unfurled before me.

It struck me that in the past I had never even spoken the word outing aloud.

Far from going out, I had lived strictly as the heir to the sacred relic.

My thoughts tangled. The life I’d lived before was plainly different from this one.

Of course, different doesn’t explain everything—but what I once believed right had begun to sprout doubts.

As if my maternal grandfather’s teachings might have been… wrong.

Without realizing, I tightened my grip on my skirt.

It’s just a first outing. Don’t think too deeply.

The carriage slowed. Shops began to appear outside.

Soon we stopped, and Sir Derek O’Brian, the captain of the knights, approached.

Basha lowered the window. His respectful voice came through.

“My lady, forgive me—but we may need you to wait a moment while we finish our arrangements.”

I didn’t know what he meant by arrangements, but there was nothing to forgive. I nodded.

I heard the captain giving orders outside, muffled by the carriage’s excellent soundproofing.

Curious as I was, I pretended indifference.

The faint bustle ceased; the captain returned and tapped the window.

“You may alight now, my lady.”

I took Basha’s hand and stepped down. Sir Derek and the knights formed a circle around me.

How am I supposed to look at anything like this?

“I can’t see ahead.”

At my remark, Basha signaled to the captain. He came and knelt on one knee.

“Do you have any requests, my lady?”

“I want to look around. I understand your concerns—but like this, I can’t even see in front of me. You understand what I’m asking, don’t you?”

Sir Derek hesitated, then set his jaw as if making a decision.

“His Grace gave strict orders—but above all, he told us to respect your wishes.”

He bowed again and rose, relaying new instructions. The knights shifted positions as commanded.

At last, I could truly see the street. It would have been perfect if not for the entourage trailing behind me—but this would have to do.

Buoyed by excitement, I strolled until a shop sign with a cute rabbit caught my eye.

“…Adorable.”

I must have spoken aloud, because Basha suggested we go in.

Delighted, I stepped inside—only for every nerve in me to snap taut at a voice I could never forget.

Railey.

To be continued.