Episode 8

Fabryon Bell’s works were all in her possession, and the book she was reading, A Dark Anarchist’s Banquet, had been read so many times that its cover was tattered, so there was no need to listen to anyone else.

Thus, Schumiern focused entirely on Ariel.

Her unusually thick red hair, her small face with tightly set features, the beautiful curves visible through her dress.

“Certainly, she’s pretty.”

But a face like that could be found if one really looked. So there had to be another charm that had captured Blake.

“…One cannot live alone. But only when one can stand alone does one become truly complete.”

Schumiern crossed his arms, keeping his gaze fixed on Ariel as she read the book.

Her voice, perhaps.

It wasn’t a clear, nightingale-like voice. It wasn’t a high soprano either.

For a woman, it was low, with a slight huskiness that caught the listener’s attention. Moreover, she controlled the pace and tone through her breathing.

Better than an actress.

Her vocal control and ability to captivate attention were exceptional.

But that alone didn’t qualify her for his patronage. She had provoked him and attracted his attention with her choice of book, but that was all.

Being “good” and being “special” were different things. He only chose what was special.

I’ll have to refuse her request properly.

With that conclusion, Schumiern felt more at ease at the reading session. The heat in his eyes, which had flared earlier, gradually cooled.

Ariel walked down the long corridor.

I failed.

At the reading session, she had tried to capture Schumiern’s attention. She had done her best—dressed up, even switched books despite knowing she might be scolded by Count Bronte.

At first, she thought she had succeeded. At least, until she took the book off the shelf.

She had clearly seen the flicker of interest in his eyes.

But it was only momentary; once the reading began, he quickly became indifferent.

She hadn’t made any mistakes. Ariel was not the type to make mistakes easily.

There was only one answer:

I wasn’t captivating enough to catch Count Schumiern’s interest.

Not in a romantic sense—she didn’t wish to be seen that way. She simply didn’t fall within the range of his human interest. That fact troubled her more than it should have.

Should she give up on Schumiern?

I don’t want to.

No one else would suit her plan better. She hadn’t even considered anyone else. The person she wanted to help was only Schumiern.

Why won’t he even glance my way?

Ariel sank deeper into thought, so much so that she didn’t notice someone approaching her.

“…Riel, stop. Ariel!”

Only when a voice echoed through the corridor did Ariel jolt and turn around.

Duke Blake stood there with a bright smile. His eyes glimmered like snakes in the moonlight.

Ariel reflexively scanned her surroundings. It was just the two of them. A wave of embarrassment washed over her, but she smiled.

“Good evening, Your Grace.”

Ariel stepped back and bowed deeply. Duke Blake strode closer.

“Ariel, you don’t need such formalities with me. Relax, just relax.”

What kind of “relationship” do we have, exactly?

Exploitation? My role? A pawn on your game board? A toy to play with and discard? A free trial version, used and thrown away?

Ariel swallowed the words rising in her throat and forced a faint smile.

“I can hardly speak comfortably to Your Grace. After all, our social standings are different.”

Blake’s smile was strange—part displeased, part amused.

“Rank isn’t important—friendship is. We’re close, aren’t we?”

He extended his hand as if to shake another man’s. In the past, Blake often offered a handshake to Ariel. She had once felt flattered, seeing it as recognition.

But now, she only needed recognition from two people: Count Bronte and Count Schumiern. She didn’t need to shake his hand or entertain his conversation.

“It’s late. I should head in. Have a peaceful night.”

Caught off guard by her dismissal, Blake paused. Ariel turned to leave.

“Ariel! Sponsorship! You came to propose sponsorship!”

Blake’s abrupt words stopped her. The skin under her eyes twitched slightly.

In the past, Blake waited three weeks before bringing up sponsorship. Why is he proposing already?

Had she missed something?

“Ariel, are you ready to talk to me now?”

Blake regained his composure, wearing a sly smile as he reached for her shoulder.

His large hand was about to grasp her delicate shoulder when Ariel twisted away. Unintentionally, her timing caused her to evade his hand.

Blake’s smooth face cracked slightly from being rejected twice. Ariel saw his expression but pretended not to, stepping back.

“I have nothing to discuss with Duke Blake. Especially not about sponsorship.”

“Ariel, before discussing sponsorship with Count Bronte, you must consider him. That meticulous man wouldn’t postpone discussions without reason. You’ve become an adult, so he can’t sponsor you, yet he can’t just kick you out either.”

“What do you mean?”

“Count Bronte said he will no longer sponsor you.”

Ariel’s lips parted slightly. She had known that upon reaching adulthood, Bronte would end her sponsorship—but she hadn’t expected him to announce it publicly like this.

She wasn’t upset, only startled by the difference between past and present.

“Surprised, Ariel? Don’t be too sad. I’m here. By the way, Count Bronte is too stingy.”

Ariel frowned at Blake’s nonsense. “Stingy? That’s absurd. I’ve already received more than enough from Count Bronte. And what have I given her in return?”

As the first female head of a noble house in the kingdom, Count Bronte was the focus of public attention and envy. If Ariel continued to receive Bronte’s sponsorship, rumors would arise, tarnishing her further. She had experienced similar things in the past.

“She’s pimping me out, really. Count Bronte is using me to gather young nobles. A reading session? It’s just an exhibition to find a man who’ll buy me at a high price, isn’t it?”

A lowly rumor, but foolishly, Ariel had once believed it. Blake himself had caused the misunderstanding.

“Ariel, Count Bronte met Owen recently. It seems she planned to send you to Owen’s villa this summer…”

Blake pretended to worry, sowing discord between Bronte and Ariel.

Back then, Bronte had shown discomfort toward Blake. So Ariel had quarreled with Bronte and sought out Blake.

Right. Come to think of it, my sponsorship deal with Blake wasn’t made with a clear mind.

On a stormy night, Ariel had argued with Count Bronte and gone to Duke Blake, who had offered her honeyed milk and whispered:

“Ariel, leave Count Bronte’s house. You have me.”

His sweet words were the whisper of a cunning snake.

“Ariel, will you consider seriously? I’ll be your lifelong sponsor.”

He said it earnestly, in the same syrupy tone. The naive Ariel had fallen for it. The word lifelong, his polished face.

But now Ariel was no longer innocent. She lifted the corners of her lips.

“I’ve thought about it very seriously.”

Blake smiled broadly.

“I decline your sponsorship proposal.”

It took less than a second for that smile to shatter.

In his twenty-four years, Blake had rarely been rejected.

Born as the sole heir to the Duchy in the Sebance Kingdom, he inherited power and privilege. In a world where people measured the value of life, Blake was priceless.

Thus, few ever refused his benevolent offers. Even if his proposals were dubious, most accepted.

Those who had rejected him were limited to Count Schumiern, King Lewis of Sebance, and his deceased parents.

Today, a new name joined the list:

Ariel. With no title, no parents, nothing but a decent face, she had rejected him.

Blake thought he had misheard. So he asked again, clumsily:

“Wha…t, Ariel?”
“I said I decline your sponsorship proposal.”

Shocked, Blake blinked slowly.