#24
For a moment, the conversation stopped, and only the sound of sipping tea filled the room.
Fortunately, someone brought up a new topic.
“By the way, I heard that since Sir Julian took command of the city guard, the security in Central has improved significantly? My father told me there’s talk of it in the council.”
Julian Tollin had become the commander of the city guard a year ago.
Before that, he had served as vice-commander, and when he was promoted to commander, there were many grumbles from various quarters.
He was considered too young for the position, and being the son of a quasi-baron, his social status was practically equivalent to that of a commoner in the eyes of traditional noble families.
However, backed by the crown prince, Julian quickly silenced the voices of discontent.
Under his leadership, the city guard became more competent than ever, and within just a year, what had once been a virtually useless organization had grown into a respectable one.
As soon as Julian’s name came up, the noble ladies’ eyes sparkled and their voices grew animated.
“I’ve heard he occasionally has private meetings with the crown prince. I once saw him working in uniform by chance, and it was truly a visual treat.”
“Well, what can you expect—he is Cecilia’s older brother, after all.”
Cecilia’s popularity in high society owed much to Julian.
The two of them, with their striking appearances, offset the unimpressive status of their quasi-baron family.
The ladies’ gazes turned from Cecilia to Hera, almost as if on cue.
Among the three siblings, she stood out with distinctly different features.
Though the once gloomy atmosphere surrounding her had now shifted to a strangely elegant one, the noblewomen’s long-held prejudice refused to fade.
That prejudice being: “Emilia Tollin is gloomy and plain.”
“By the way, I heard there’s happy news for you too, Lady Derilda?”
The topic shifted once more.
This time, the focus was on Derilda, the host of the tea party.
“Eh? Me?”
“Why are you so surprised? There’s already a rumor spreading that the Levinas and Buell families are forming a marriage alliance. Is there a reason you haven’t announced it yet?”
“Well…”
Derilda’s voice trembled. A hint of fear flickered in her eyes.
Even though it wasn’t a frightening topic.
She glanced at Cecilia, as if silently begging for help.
Cecilia awkwardly set her teacup down.
“Ahem. I think something got in my tea.”
It was a half-hearted attempt to change the subject, but not a very effective one.
The servants came and replaced her tea, and the noble ladies continued their chatter about the upcoming marriage between Lucio Levinas and Derilda.
“Getting married to Viscount Lucio Levinas! You’re truly blessed. I heard he inherited the viscountcy at a young age and has tripled the Levinas family fortune. With such a capable husband, life must be worry-free.”
“Absolutely. I’ve only seen him a few times due to his busy schedule, but he’s tall, well-mannered, and very charming.”
“He’s an uncommon kind of handsome.”
“Yes, truly.”
“Did you get an engagement ring, Lady Derilda? I heard there’s a large mine on the Levinas estate. Wouldn’t a ring made from gems mined there be perfect? It would definitely make headlines.”
“Indeed, an unmarried family head is the ideal groom. Heirs always seem like spoiled brats who recklessly spend their parents’ money.”
“Oh my, what a dangerous thing to say.”
The ladies chattered on without restraint.
Meanwhile, Derilda—the very subject of the conversation—grew paler and paler, yet no one seemed to notice.
Until Hera, sitting far away and lost in thought, happened to glance over and saw her ghost-white face, frozen like someone standing on the edge of a cliff.
When their eyes met, Hera realized Derilda was silently pleading for rescue.
What could cut through this chatter like a knife?
Hera stood and spoke.
“Do any of you happen to know where the crown prince’s mistress lives?”
The salon instantly fell silent.
***
After that, the atmosphere of the salon sank into total ruin, just as expected.
No one dared to mention Viscount Levinas again, or even bring up the weather.
After staying just long enough not to seem rude, the noble ladies quickly rose to leave.
Each said their goodbyes to Derilda with a clear expression that they wanted to pretend today had never happened.
‘Lady Derilda looked so desperate, I just blurted something out… but I didn’t expect this kind of reaction.’
The ladies reacted as if they’d heard the name of a ghost, and even though it wasn’t her business, Hera felt uncomfortable.
The fact that this woman—referred to as the crown prince’s mistress—was treated as if she didn’t exist, while secretly becoming the target of collectors at underground auctions, felt like a disgusting contradiction.
Besides, the crown prince wasn’t even married.
So shouldn’t she be called his lover, not the degrading term “mistress”?
Hera tried to reason through it, but there were simply too many things she couldn’t make sense of.
“Um…”
Just as she was putting on her coat to leave the mansion, Derilda cautiously called out from behind.
Cecilia was already ahead, so there was no doubt the words were directed at Hera.
When Hera turned to face her, Derilda didn’t exactly look pleased—just like when they first met at the Duke of Anthony’s mansion.
Despite the awkward air, Derilda, as one properly raised in a noble family, expressed her gratitude.
“Thank you for your help.”
“It was nothing.”
“Um…”
Hera thought she had only spoken out of politeness, but Derilda went on, almost as if she were clinging to Hera.
“Did you really ask where the crown prince’s mistress lives because you wanted to know?”
Unexpected words from an unexpected person.
Without realizing it, Hera stepped closer.
“Do you know?”
“Actually… my cousin occasionally keeps her company.”
Derilda lowered her gaze, seemingly uncomfortable with Hera’s closeness, and walked over to a desk in the corner of the salon.
She picked up a quill and began writing without hesitation.
“I’ll give you her address.”
A folded white paper was placed into Hera’s hand.
She was glad to receive the information she’d been looking for—but more than that, she was concerned for Derilda.
“Wouldn’t this get you into trouble…?”
Hera trailed off, and Derilda let one eyebrow drop subtly.
She, too, seemed displeased with how people treated the crown prince’s lover.
“She’s someone everyone pretends doesn’t exist… but that doesn’t mean she’s forbidden.”
***
352 Molka Street, Aiton District.
Located north of Central’s new town, the Aiton District had been developed for the middle class and lower nobility, but due to low popularity, it remained sparsely populated.
It was known as a quiet residential area where well-off merchants or lawyers retired to live in peace.
When Hera arrived at the address Derilda had given her, she couldn’t help tilting her head in confusion.
‘Isn’t this house way too modest for the crown prince’s mistress?’
Compared to the surrounding homes, there was nothing remarkable about it—it was just a small, cozy family house.
Even in the Wintaile estate, there were two buildings of similar size used as servants’ dorms and storage.
So to Hera, the idea that the crown prince’s woman lived here seemed absurd.
‘I found the house, but… how do I even start the conversation?’
That was the real issue.
She had left her maids behind and come alone, but now that she was here, she had no idea what to say to the person inside, or how to deliver the painting.
She briefly considered just leaving the painting at the doorstep, but what if the address was wrong, or the person wasn’t the rightful owner? Too many possibilities came to mind.
As she wandered around the house in contemplation, Hera discovered that this little house had a back gate.
“The back door is open?”
Like most homes, this one had a decently sized front gate and a small garden just inside.
The house was structured so one could enter from the garden into the home.
What was unique about this house, though, was a small iron gate at the back, barely taller than a person.
It was wide open, almost as if inviting her in, and Hera stepped into the garden as if under a spell.
It was a small, neatly kept garden that reflected the homeowner’s personality.
As she looked around the harmonious space, Hera noticed a small door connecting the garden and dining room was slightly ajar.
If she could just get a glimpse of the homeowner’s face, she might be able to confirm whether they were the rightful owner of the painting.
As she cautiously approached the door—
Suddenly, a sharp male voice snapped from inside.
“I’m asking how long you plan to keep hiding like this.”
Through the narrow gap in the door, she could see a man and a woman facing each other.
‘The crown prince!’
The man who spoke was someone she had seen before at the Wintaile estate.
Ron Arista—the crown prince.
Startled, Hera pressed her back against the wall of the house.
She couldn’t even flee through the garden’s back gate for fear of making a sound and being discovered. She froze in place.
Her heart pounded like it was about to burst.
Unaware of her presence just outside the door, Ron and his lover continued their argument inside.
