CHAPTER 75………………………..
“Temptation, you say?”
Irene felt an instinctive sense of rejection. The duke tilted his head as if to say, What’s the problem with that?
“Why, do you dislike it?”
“…I don’t want to toy with people’s feelings.”
Duke Bechel advised sharply.
“Sometimes you need to be selfish for the sake of your goals. With that kind of naïve mindset, you won’t achieve anything.”
“…I dislike it.”
More than anyone, she didn’t want to become someone like Kim Taeheon.
The kind of person who saw people only as tools… Yet, in her head, Irene knew that the duke’s advice wasn’t wrong. She was deeply conflicted.
“In that case, the only choice is to take the long way around,” Duke Bechel said firmly. Her expression showed clear dissatisfaction.
Her face was puckered in sulky irritation. Irene felt sorry. Of course she’d be in a bad mood—after giving advice, only to have it rejected outright.
“Your Grace, do people often call you a fool?”
“…Yes.”
“I thought so.”
Duke Bechel’s face relaxed, and she let out a laugh.
“Seems like fools are my type after all.”
Irene stared at her in confusion, not understanding why the duke was laughing. At that moment—
“His Imperial Highness, the Crown Prince, enters!”
The chamberlain’s booming voice announcing the prince’s arrival rang throughout the hall.
Now, I must stay true to my role.
Irene reminded herself of the part she was playing at this banquet and composed her thoughts.
The doors opened, and Reinhardt entered the ballroom.
Just as he had in the waiting room, he was dazzling and beautiful.
Even without sharpening her focus, his presence was vivid and undeniable among the many nobles.
A man who shines simply by existing.
Then Reinhardt’s green eyes slowly shifted toward her, and at last, their gazes met.
For an instant, warmth flickered in the way he looked at her.
In that moment, Irene remembered what Damon and the captain of the guard had once said.
A special existence.
Recognizing that truth, she saw what had been hidden behind the veil.
The way he looked at her was different—the warmth in his eyes was not the same as when he looked at others.
Realizing this, a strange feeling spread through her chest. Her insides burned, heating up and flooding warmth into her face. Her heart pounded. She couldn’t look away—she just kept staring at him.
And then, all at once, the heat inside her abruptly vanished.
“…What was that?”
As though she had never felt it at all, the sensation evaporated.
Irene felt disoriented, seized by a strange emptiness and hollowness.
The sudden change was bizarre—but no matter how she tried, she couldn’t find an answer.
I feel nothing.
As though all her emotions had been stripped away. Nothing at all.
Uneasy at the strange symptoms, she swallowed dryly.
Then the chamberlain shouted again, louder than before:
“Their Imperial Majesties, the Emperor and Empress, enter!”
And following behind them came the Saintess and Kim Taeheon.
Isabella wore a silver silk mermaid gown that matched her own hair. The gown glittered under the lights, encrusted with tiny diamonds that shimmered in many colors.
“Oh my… it’s the Saintess.”
“She truly has a divine, mysterious aura about her.”
Irene furrowed her brow.
Naturally, she overheard nobles comparing the Saintess to Chloe.
“The mysterious air suits Lady Chloe better…”
Because they both shared silver hair, Chloe’s name naturally entered the conversation.
Irene bristled at the fact that Chloe and Isabella were being compared—whether the remarks were flattering or not.
Hold it in.
Mindful of her role, Irene suppressed the urge to rebuke them.
Still, her mood quietly sank.
The banquet grew livelier, and the orchestra’s once-gentle melody gained energy. Nobles began stepping onto the dance floor in pairs as a spirited, elegant waltz filled the air.
“Isabella, may I have the first dance?”
“…Yes.”
Isabella cast a quick glance at Reinhardt, then shyly took Kim Taeheon’s hand.
Watching them, Irene felt a sense of déjà vu.
Irene, it’s you I truly love—but I had no choice. I’m sorry. I mean it.
Before she had returned.
After taking the first dance with Isabella, Kim Taeheon had seen Irene’s dark expression and pulled her aside to soothe her.
At the time, she had felt hurt but dismissed it as something unavoidable.
She had even told him not to worry about her, that it was fine.
How foolish I was.
Now, Irene could see clearly just how little Kim Taeheon had thought of her.
This isn’t where I should be looking.
She turned her gaze toward Reinhardt, remembering her role.
She had assumed he would already be on the dance floor with some noble lady, but instead, he merely sipped champagne, watching the floor with a bored expression.
As though he had no interest at all in the banquet.
His air of detachment was so palpable that few dared approach him.
“You were perfect, Isabella. Especially for the first dance,” Kim Taeheon praised.
Isabella smiled shyly and blinked.
“I practiced a little so I wouldn’t embarrass myself.”
“Even though you already shine just by being, you still put in the effort? How much more perfect can you get?”
He teased, and Isabella lowered her gaze bashfully.
Watching her reaction, Kim Taeheon slyly glanced at Irene.
Her gaze was fixed unwaveringly on Reinhardt.
His face stiffened subtly. Something twisted inside him.
Damn it.
The empress’s faction was in far worse shape than in the original timeline.
There were many reasons, but the greatest was the House of Lycaon.
Far stronger than the original story had described, Duke Lycaon had even publicly declared his support for Reinhardt.
A house that had remained neutral for centuries… Once they stood with Reinhardt, many nobles wavered and grew hesitant to support the empress.
Naturally, her faction grew weaker.
To think the story would be this broken…
He tried to analyze who was responsible, and the answer led to one person.
Irene Lycaon.
Of all people, why did it have to be her?
Lloyd, that damned brat!
Even now, the thought of that boy’s flirtations causing him problems filled Kim Taeheon with rage.
“It was lovely, Your Highness.”
“And for me as well.”
When the waltz ended, Kim Taeheon and Isabella stepped off the dance floor. He scanned the room, searching for one person.
Duke Bechel.
At the center, her standing grew higher by the day since inheriting her title.
“Your Grace, what would you do in a moment like this?”
Duke Bechel lingered at Irene Lycaon’s side, constantly engaging her in conversation.
It grated on him—why was someone who so rarely showed interest in anyone, suddenly showing it to her?
And of all people, Irene Lycaon?
Suppressing his irritation, Kim Taeheon approached.
The crowd around her parted in two.
“Your Grace, may I have this dance?”
Duke Bechel smiled faintly in reply.
“Sorry, but I’m too busy for that.”
A crack appeared in Kim Taeheon’s expression. Irene knew that look well—it was the one he wore when his pride had been wounded and anger flared within him.
“What a shame, Your Grace. I had hoped for the chance to dance with you.”
He forced a smile, feigning disappointment. But the smile wavered at the edges.
“I see.”
Duke Bechel replied with an utterly uninterested look.
At that moment, the chamberlain’s voice rang out again.
“His Majesty Hakan of the Kingdom of Sakar enters!”
