Chapter 52…
“There’s been… a lot going on.”
“How about the Ritemper Trading Company?”
Of course, that’s what he’d ask first… Cynthia gave Dale a slight glare as he immediately brought up the Ritemper Company.
“I asked about it.”
“And what did they say?”
“They said it should be resolved soon. Please wait a little longer.”
It seemed wiser not to mention anything about the “love” part of the contract. If she did, Dale’s overwhelming interference would start all over again.
“That’s good to hear. Ah, I also have something to tell you.”
“What is it?”
Cynthia turned to look at him. Dale stared at her suspiciously for a moment, then spoke in a displeased tone.
“You’ll need to attend the banquet at the imperial palace.”
“Banquet…?”
Cynthia’s eyes widened as she looked up at him.
“We’ll discuss the details in my office.”
Once they hurried into Dale’s office, Cynthia asked, “A banquet? What do you mean, all of a sudden?”
“I’m in a difficult position as well. I can’t imagine Cynthia attending the imperial banquet hall and flawlessly imitating Lady Bailey’s perfectly elegant manners.”
Well, he wasn’t wrong… but that didn’t make it any less irritating.
Cynthia glared at Dale, who awkwardly ran a hand through his hair.
“I’m a fake noblewoman who’ll disappear in a few months! How could you ask me to attend a banquet—an imperial banquet at that?”
“It’s the elders of House Bailey’s decision.”
Cynthia let out a small sigh. This was absurd. It felt like the Baileys had lost their minds to allow her to go to such a place.
“If it’s an imperial banquet, won’t there be many nobles? How could I show up in such a public setting?”
“Well…”
“Besides, Lady Elizabeth hardly ever left the Bailey estate! Can’t I just make up an excuse and skip it too?”
Cynthia racked her brain, desperate for a way to avoid the imperial banquet.
Pretending to be Elizabeth in front of so many people would be the worst possible situation. If her face became widely recognized, returning to a normal commoner’s life after her contract ended would be nearly impossible.
“I really can’t go. I don’t have the confidence! Dale, please find a way—anything!”
Dale, watching her look utterly troubled, shook his head.
“It seems the Bailey elders have decided it’s best not to offend His Highness the Crown Prince.”
“The Crown Prince?”
“His Highness has returned to the Empire after completing his studies abroad. In other words, this banquet is his official welcome-home celebration.”
“The Crown Prince…?”
Cynthia’s eyebrow twitched.
As soon as she heard Dale’s words, information about the original novel’s characters flooded her mind.
‘The Crown Prince, Ricaiën Bonnefelt.’
The Crown Prince—he was one of Elizabeth’s reverse harem members, known for being cruel and short-tempered.
He and Elizabeth were infamous for their toxic, antagonistic relationship—and, strangely enough, had quite a passionate fanbase because of it.
‘Who even wants this kind of gift?’
‘Wow, what a lovely mouth you’ve got there. I nearly died getting this for you, you know.’
‘Guess that’s what you get for being stupid.’
‘And you’re so smart, yet look how you’ve turned out.’
Ricaiën had smirked, grabbing Elizabeth by the hair and yanking her head back.
‘Aah! Let go! I said let go!’
‘Smile. If you smile nicely, I’ll let you go.’
‘You lunatic…!’
Whenever they met, they traded verbal daggers—but at night, they came together as if none of it had ever happened.
‘Ah—ahh! Louder…’
‘Ahhh!’
Ahem…
The Crown Prince had plenty of women, and Elizabeth had her own harem, so they weren’t the main couple—but their chemistry was undeniably popular.
‘Come to think of it, around this time in the story, he did return from studying abroad. This was the banquet where Elizabeth met him for the first time.’
Recalling the original setting, Cynthia slowly spoke.
“I don’t know if you’re aware, but His Highness the Crown Prince of the Dirotein Empire is not someone you can refuse with excuses.”
Of course she knew. She knew too well. Cynthia nodded grimly.
Now she understood why the Baileys had no choice but to send her to the imperial banquet—they couldn’t afford to defy Ricaiën.
Even in the original novel, Elizabeth had been forced to attend that same banquet and met him there.
“His Highness personally included Lady Elizabeth Bailey’s name on the guest list. If she refuses, the Bailey family could suffer serious repercussions.”
“…Right. I figured as much.”
“Furthermore, now that the Crown Prince has returned, trading activities between noble houses may become more restricted. The imperial family could easily find fault. Taxes will become complicated as well—His Highness is… quite petty.”
Sigh…
Cynthia bit her lip.
Ricaiën was no pushover. If what Dale said was true, the Baileys were probably on edge, afraid they might not get the Ritemper Company back in time.
“This banquet may be your last chance. If things drag on, the elders might abandon you and find another solution.”
“Ah… I see.”
Cynthia steadied herself. She didn’t have much time left.
“Then fine. I’ll confess my ‘love’ at the banquet and get the trading company back…!”
“In addition,” Dale continued, “the Bailey elders have asked me to train you.”
“Train me…? In what?”
“In etiquette—enough so that you won’t stand out at the banquet hall.”
“Ah…”
The lenses of Dale’s glasses gleamed under the chandelier.
Cynthia gulped.
It had been a long time—but it seemed Dale’s Spartan training was about to begin again.
“Ugh… this is so hard…”
Cynthia slumped onto the marble floor, exhausted. The book she’d been balancing on her head toppled off and landed open on the ground.
Before her, Dale appeared.
“Stand up straight. Keep your neck upright.”
“Can’t I just act antisocial? I’ll greet His Highness quickly and leave right after. It’s not like anyone has high expectations for Lady Elizabeth anyway…”
“Being antisocial is not the same as being uneducated. Lady Elizabeth received a proper noble’s education, at the very least. Now, stand up.”
Cynthia groaned as she pushed herself back to her feet. Her entire body trembled from holding proper posture all day.
“Now, we’ll move on to dancing.”
“…Dancing too?”
“Just one song. It’s the only one you must know. Come closer.”
Dale extended his hand toward her. When Cynthia stepped closer, he lifted her chin with his fingers.
“Keep your head up.”
“Y-yes.”
“Stretch your right arm out.”
“Like… this?”
“Not so stiffly—gracefully.”
Gracefully? What does that even mean…? Cynthia awkwardly bent her arm slightly, and Dale frowned as he stepped closer.
“…That’s the best you can do, I see.”
“Yes…”
“I’ll place my hand on your waist. Your left hand should rest between my chest and shoulder.”
“Like this?”
“Correct. Now, look into my eyes—we’ll begin.”
He took her right hand and led her gently into motion. It felt awkward, but somehow resembled a dance.
“Be careful not to step on your partner’s foot.”
“Ah—right!”
Cynthia looked down at Dale’s shoes.
“Head up.”
“Ah, sorry!”
She was completely flustered, following Dale’s lead as they moved across the drawing room.
“Is… is this right?”
“Close enough.”
“But will anyone even ask me to dance? Maybe the Grand Duke Tesion?”
“Most likely. After one dance, you can claim to be unwell and refuse further invitations.”
Though honestly, Cynthia doubted anyone would ask her at all.
“But you must dance at least once.”
“Got it.”
She replied halfheartedly, moving back and forth with him.
“If it’s an imperial banquet, the food must be incredible, right? I wonder how good it’ll be…”
“Try not to eat anything.”
“What? Why!”
“If you’re pretending to be unwell to avoid conversations and dances, it’ll look strange if you just sit and eat the entire time.”
Well… he wasn’t wrong.
“But resisting delicious food right in front of me—that’s basically torture!”
“When you return, I’ll cook something just as good for you.”
Dale said it casually.
Huh? Cynthia blinked in surprise and looked up at him.
He frowned at her puzzled expression.
“What now?”
“Why are you being so nice lately, Dale?”
