Chapter 42
Beyond the staircase, the figures of the Clayde siblings gradually came into view.
People were already murmuring in awe at Victoria’s transformed appearance and changed demeanor.
But rather than enjoying the many eyes on her, she felt burdened and uncomfortable.
Still, the reason she had wanted to attend the party—the biggest reason she thought she must marry a nobleman—was because…
“If it’s not Clayde? If it stops being Clayde? Then I have no worth?”
Because she hated Clayde.
Because she wanted to escape Tegenes.
“You…”
Hannibal was flustered by the sudden question.
They weren’t particularly close, but having survived together for over a decade, with only servants around them, there was some kind of bond.
“I’ll go down alone.”
Flick. Victoria let go of Hannibal’s hand.
“Why was nothing done while a fifteen-year-old girl was being called a witch and treated as such? Does the pride and dignity of the West’s greatest family, the Claydes, not apply to a bastard child?”
Ann Pero’s voice, the one that had once demanded an answer, echoed vividly in her ears.
Hannibal stared at Victoria’s retreating figure and only started walking after her with a slight delay.
“You’re truly beautiful.”
“Lady Clayde. I regret not coming to see you sooner.”
“Nice to meet you, Lady Clayde. Happy birthday.”
With such honeyed greetings, Victoria drew a picture-perfect smile.
Ann had told her not to smile falsely, but Victoria instinctively knew.
That within these smiles lay scorn and contempt. And rather than getting angry, it was better to just smile.
“Thank you so much for accepting the invitation.”
Even surrounded by many noble ladies, Victoria’s presence was striking and unmatched.
“She’s really beautiful. I almost fell for her myself.”
From a distance, Oliver commented as he nudged Hannibal with his shoulder.
“Don’t fall for her.”
“I won’t. I have no desire to be your brother-in-law.”
“Is Father still in the capital?”
“Yeah. Got a message from Uncle the day before yesterday—he was invited to the third prince’s child’s birthday party, so he won’t be able to make it back here.”
Oliver’s uncle was one of Count Arthur’s closest aides, so he often passed on updates to Oliver.
“He wasn’t planning on coming anyway.”
“Still, he’ll be here next month.”
“It’d be easier if he just didn’t come at all.”
“Same here, but you know how the adults are.”
Next month marked the anniversary of the witch’s death, so Oliver had received a letter saying the count would return west for the occasion.
In the West, the memorial event for the witch wasn’t just a festival; it held religious significance.
It was only natural for Count Arthur’s aides to pay attention to such a long-standing tradition.
“The count won’t even go into the forest, so why does he bother showing up? Afraid of being assassinated without his lackeys?”
“What good would killing the Empire’s most loyal house do?”
“Maybe he just wants to come. And he enjoys watching his lackeys squirm in nervousness.”
Hannibal didn’t take offense, understanding all too well the count’s personality.
“He just wants to lord it over everyone once a year, as the great Count of Clayde.”
Especially in front of his son—crushing him face-to-face, bringing people from the capital just to humiliate him.
That, Hannibal was certain, was the only reason he returned every year.
“You’re the lord now anyway. So what?”
“The Empire still considers him the master.”
“Is it the Empire the West is loyal to, or the Claydes?”
“You’ll get branded a traitor talking like that.”
“This is Tegenes. Let the Empire come and try to argue if they dare.”
Oliver downed his champagne in one gulp, brimming with pride.
Just then, a sky-blue dress brushed past them. Naturally, Oliver’s eyes were drawn to the starlit hair gliding across the ballroom.
“That’s not Victoria, is it?”
As his friend turned to look, Hannibal responded with an exasperated glance.
Just then, the Viscountess approached and spoke.
“At last, a Clayde lady we needn’t be ashamed of.”
Three bright-eyed young noblewomen trailed behind her.
“Thanks to your excellent guidance, madam. I’m grateful.”
“Yes, yes. You owe it all to me.”
“Oh my! You taught her yourself, Viscountess? No wonder! I thought Lady Victoria’s dancing had improved dramatically!”
“She was so elegant and beautiful!”
The Viscountess replied curtly to Hannibal’s greeting, and the young ladies immediately chirped in excitement.
But behind those chirpy voices, their eyes glittered with eagerness—directed at the other Clayde.
“Won’t you be dancing, Hannibal?”
In response, Hannibal lightly patted Oliver’s shoulder.
“This friend will dance in my place.”
“Haha! Would you care to dance with me?”
Extending his hand to the nearest lady, Oliver led her onto the ballroom floor, giving Hannibal a side glance.
“As host of the party, you really should be dancing. This young lady—”
“I’m tired. Excuse me.”
Sipping the rest of his champagne, Hannibal turned and walked away.
“H-how rude!”
The Viscountess exclaimed in embarrassment, then quickly composed her expression and tone.
“I’ll have a word with Victoria. This evening is like her debutante ball, after all. Hoho.”
As she said, Victoria had never been treated like a lady, nor even a person before.
Just an expensive beast branded with a noble family’s name—nothing more.
But tonight, she was undoubtedly the most beautiful lady of them all.
Though the noble girls clearly weren’t thrilled, they bowed their heads and quietly stepped back.
* * *
“May I have this dance?”
“Would you honor me with one song, Lady Victoria?”
“Might I request the grace of dancing with such a lovely lady?”
As if their past contempt had been a lie, the young noblemen lined up to offer their hands to Victoria.
The change was dizzying, but it made her happy.
Her past experience with parties amounted to little more than her debutante ball, and a few occasions when she’d barged into gatherings to intimidate those who mocked her.
Back then, she’d been treated like an invisible ghost, overshadowed even by the rumors of being a witch.
But today, she moved through the ballroom, hearing only compliments and admiration.
“How could someone be so elegant, like a fairy?”
With a dazzling smile on her beautiful face, Victoria danced flawlessly until the music ended.
Even when the song changed, her grace and skill remained steady, drawing more praise.
“Lady Clayde, you were so breathtaking on the dance floor, I thought you were a fairy!”
One noble lady stepped up and offered a compliment—though not without edge—and soon, others joined her, surrounding Victoria.
The true social arena had finally opened.
“Thank you, Lady Anel.”
“How did your dancing improve so much? Five years ago—oh, I guess you didn’t have the chance to dance back then?”
“Two years ago, you crashed my cousin’s party out of the blue. I remember you didn’t dance at all then. But today—you were incredible!”
There it was. The smiling, face-to-face digs.
Ann had warned her and given countless examples, but it was Victoria’s first time experiencing this directly.
In the past, her reputation for violence had made the noble girls too afraid to approach.
But now that she had returned calm and composed, their guard was lowered, and they began to treat her as naive—and attack.
“Well, whatever the past, you’re perfect now.”
“Now the Clayde name won’t be embarrassed anymore.”
So she had been a stain on the family before, was that it?
“Truly. Both inside and out, you’ve become so beautiful.”
“Hohoho, yes, absolutely.”
“Please share your secrets with us. You must have practiced so harshly to transform this much. I guess desperation really does work, right?”
“We were all so worried whether you’d ever manage to marry, but thank goodness, really.”
You little—
The anger surged up to her forehead. Victoria clenched her fist tightly, ready to snap back, but just then—
A voice from behind melted her fury in an instant.
“Lady Clayde.”
“Young Master Dello Sandor?”
Son of Baron Sandor.
The most popular unmarried man in the West had arrived.
* * *
Young Master Dello Sandor had a gentle, handsome face and always wore a cheerful smile, making him well-liked by everyone, regardless of age or gender.
Victoria had vaguely hoped to meet him one day, but she hadn’t expected him to approach her so directly.
“Forgive me for intruding on your precious conversation with the ladies.”
“Oh, not at all—”
“Not at all—”
Before Victoria could respond, the noble ladies chorused in unison.
“May I speak with Lady Clayde privately for a moment?”
“Of course—! We were finished talking anyway!”
With cheerful agreement, the noble girls nodded and gently pushed Victoria forward.
