Chapter 26
A short distance from the side palace’s entrance…
Stepping out of a plain, undecorated carriage, she slowly ascended the grand staircase leading into the palace.
The ballroom inside was nothing short of magnificent, overflowing with luxury and extravagance.
The guests entering were just as dazzling—each one adorned in their finest formal attire.
At the top of the stairs, El paused for a moment.
A strange place.
Strange people.
A strange feeling.
It reminded her of the day her father passed away—when she was left utterly alone in the world.
That same hollow fear crept in, cold and uninvited.
But…
“That was then. I was just a child. I’m an adult now.”
There was nothing to fear.
Not anymore.
Besides, she had a mission to complete.
Something critically important—vital for her own livelihood.
With that thought, El clenched her small fist.
Straightening her back with quiet determination, she entered the ballroom as gracefully as any noblewoman.
First, she needed to find where Kalen was.
Her eyes scanned the ballroom, peeking cautiously between the crowd.
But the room was packed.
The sheer number of people, all dressed in similarly lavish garments, made it nearly impossible to recognize any individual face
‘Found him!’
Just as she was starting to get overwhelmed, she spotted him—effortlessly, as if her gaze had been drawn by instinct.
Though he stood surrounded by others, they all faded into muted gray beside him.
Only he shimmered, sharp and luminous like a star.
Tonight, Kalen’s beauty was utterly arresting.
His jet-black hair gleamed like polished obsidian under the chandelier light, and his honey-gold eyes held a mysterious depth that stirred the imagination.
Even without a trace of a smile, he radiated charisma—an aristocratic elegance that made him the picture of a perfect gentleman.
And tonight… he was dressed to kill.
A flawless formal suit, clearly selected with care.
The sight of him made her heart stutter.
“No wonder all the ladies are obsessed with him, flooding him with love letters.”
But what would happen if they met his real personality?
That cold, aloof temperament…
There couldn’t be many women who could endure that.
The one woman who managed to endure—no, to understand him—she would be his true match, a fate written in the stars.
Drawing closer, El turned slightly away and kept her fan raised to hide half her face.
She focused intently on Kalen.
Scores of noble ladies were clearly dying to talk to him, practically vibrating with eagerness—but none dared step too close.
They kept a respectful distance, forming a careful ring around him.
It seemed no one was brave enough to approach the Duke directly.
“It’s such an honor to see you here, Your Grace.”
“I didn’t expect to see you tonight, Duke kalen.”
“I’m Misha, from the House of Baron Saen.”
At Misha’s greeting, Kalen turned to look at her.
It brought back a memory—El panicking when she thought Odin and Sif were about to attack her.
Luckily, she’d emerged unscathed—and even ended up growing closer to the two dogs.
‘Ah, the lady who wrote that letter I was reading back then.’
Unaware of that context, Misha seemed emboldened by the brief eye contact.
She edged a little closer to Kalen.
The other women narrowed their eyes and shot daggers at her, but she didn’t flinch.
She had one goal—marry Duke Kalen—and then, every woman in the room would be beneath her.
“Please visit my home in Kienariton sometime. It’s not a grand estate, but I’ve decorated it with great care.”
Baron Buio Saen… reputedly close to Marquis Healy.
Kalen studied her quietly before inclining his head with polite courtesy.
“I’d be honored, my lady. I’ll await your invitation.”
“Oh my! Your Grace!”
Misha’s eyes shimmered with tears.
This was the same man who never spoke to women—let alone acknowledged their presence at parties like these.
Yet here he was, accepting her invitation.
It felt like she’d just been handed the whole world on a silver platter.
Meanwhile, El, who had been eavesdropping with her back turned, tilted her head in confusion.
Misha was one of the young ladies who had sent Kalen a letter, sure—but she’d asked no real questions, and expressed no genuine interest.
El hadn’t even remembered her name until now.
‘And yet he agreed to her invitation? Does she look prettier in person?’
El turned her head slightly, curious to get a look at Misha.
Well styled, certainly—but no, she wasn’t what El would call a stunning beauty.
‘Is that Duke Callen’s type, then?’
While El studied Misha with faint suspicion, a group of noble ladies bustled past, jostling her shoulder as they swept forward.
At their center was a vision of golden radiance—an exquisite woman with flowing blonde hair.
“Good evening, Duke Kalen. I am Wendice Edgar, of the Count Edgar household.”
‘Wendice?’
A name straight out of mythology—the goddess of beauty herself.
El remembered now.
She’d written that ridiculous letter gushing endlessly about her own looks.
“Ah-ha!”
The sound slipped from El before she could stop herself.
Several noblewomen nearby turned sharply toward her, eyes narrowing.
Panicking, El fumbled to open her fan and quickly hid her face.
She glanced toward Kalen, but he seemed too wrapped up in the crowd to have heard.
A small relief.
Wendice, her voice honeyed and proud, spoke again.
“I received your letter, Your Grace. You asked when I planned to go on holiday. I’m going in September, after the social season ends.”
In her words, Kalen finally remembered who she was.
‘The one who boasted about her family’s private lake and estate in Melfield—royal territory.’
“But of course, if you let me know when you’re free, I’ll make myself available at any time. Truly, Your Grace, whenever it suits you.”
It was as if the matter had already been decided.
Wendice lifted her chin proudly and glanced smugly around the room—pausing just long enough to shoot a pointed glare in Misha’s direction.
As expected, the other young ladies’ faces drooped in visible disappointment.
But a single vacation didn’t guarantee a marriage proposal, did it?
Emboldened by this thought, one brave noblewoman stepped forward.
“There’s no need to travel all the way to distant Melfield for a holiday. My family—the Peytons—owns a hunting ground right outside the capital. Perhaps you’d prefer something simpler? You’d only need to spare a few hours.”
“The Edgar family owns a hunting ground as well,” Wendice replied coolly. “Also near the capital. I daresay it’s the finest in the region, second only to the one owned by Marquis Healy.”
Anna’s jaw tightened, her lips pressed into a firm line.
She glared at Wendice.
Wendice, never one to back down, returned the glare without flinching.
Their standoff was intense—like a battle of blazing eyes.
But the rest of the noblewomen seemed indifferent.
Their attention remained firmly fixed on Callen, as if he were the only light in the room.
Hearing a familiar voice, El rose onto her toes and peeked over the sea of pastel dresses.
A familiar face emerged from the crowd.
‘Anna Peyton?’
The same girl who, at Lady Brina’s party, had made passive-aggressive jabs about how many cookies El ate.
Watching Anna and Wendice locked in a silent duel, El couldn’t help but let out a soft sigh.
Apparently, Kalen’s popularity was even greater than she’d imagined.
What was it that drew all these women to him?
He was blunt, indifferent, more affectionate with his dogs than with people.
He didn’t understand women, and he certainly didn’t try to.
Then again…
He was quietly considerate.
He did love animals.
That must mean there was warmth in him somewhere.
And he never joked cruelly about food, which said something about his character, didn’t it?
El found herself nodding—then stopped, realizing her cheeks were warm.
‘Am I… defending him?’
She gave her head a little shake.
‘Focus on the mission. Just tonight’s mission.’
El turned her attention back to the noble ladies when a servant’s voice suddenly boomed across the ballroom, echoing like a bell:
“His Highness Prince Randol Bellavia of the Kingdom of Eneritten, and Her Highness Princess Ruena Bellavia, are entering!”
The lively chatter and laughter that had filled the room immediately died down, silence falling like a splash of cold water.
All eyes turned as Randol entered, escorting Ruena by the arm.
It was El’s first time seeing the prince and princess in person, and her eyes lit up with wonder.
Their faces were too far to make out clearly, but their presence radiated such brilliance it was as if they were lit from within—dazzling, untouchable.
She’d often heard that, despite the king’s illness, the peace of Eneritten was held firm by the capable hands of the crown prince and his sister.
She had only imagined what such people might be like—legends made flesh.
But now, seeing them with her own eyes, El thought they looked as if they had stepped straight out of a myth or storybook: beautiful, noble, almost otherworldly.
Squinting, hoping to catch a better look at their faces, her gaze landed on the princess.
“Huh? She looks… familiar…”
El tilted her head, puzzled.
But after a moment, she shook it off.
There was no way.
A princess of such high birth—how could someone like El have seen her before?
As Randol and Luena continued their slow, regal walk into the hall, the guests bent their knees and bowed low. El, too, instinctively followed suit.
It was moments like this that proved just how vital proper childhood education was.
Her movements were effortless, her posture graceful—all thanks to her mother’s strict lessons in etiquette.
Once the prince and princess had taken their seats at the head of the ballroom, the silence lifted and the chatter resumed in full swing.
Yet no sooner had they returned to their conversations than the young noblewomen all turned again—this time back toward Kalen.
Except… he was gone.
The ladies began looking around, threading through the crowd in search of the elusive duke who had disappeared in the blink of an eye.
El was no different.
She had only glanced away for a brief greeting, but in that short time, Kalen had vanished.
“Where did he go?”
Maybe all that time playing with Odin and Sif had made him unusually quick on his feet.
El scanned the ballroom, but Kalen was nowhere to be seen.
She moved toward the edge of the hall, where there were fewer people, and took a deep breath, resuming her search with renewed focus.
“Ah—there he is!”
That striking black hair, dusted with starlight—unmistakable. El spotted Kalen just as he was leaving the ballroom.
Gathering the wide folds of her cumbersome gown, she pushed her way through the crowd as quickly as she could.
By the time she reached the hallway, he had already disappeared.
“Where could he have gone?”
Anxious now, El gripped her skirt and hurried through the corridor, peeking around corners as she went.
The palace was vast—like a maze of glittering marble and gilded halls.
She rounded the end of one corridor—and then froze.
Voices.
Kalen’s voice—and someone else’s.
El stopped in her tracks, held her breath, and listened.
