Chapter 9
“Lady Marcella, His Majesty told me only to convey his apologies and a gift, but…”
Arther very carefully modulated his voice, looking at Marcella with sorrowful eyes. The more he did so, the more Marcella’s eyes shone with suspicion, like a cat hiding under a bed—it was cute, but troublesome.
“Might you grant this lowly person’s request?”
Theon, who had been listening with bated breath, choked on his tea.
Arther Digory, the fatherless Arther Digory, was calling himself a lowly person and bowing to make a request!
Theon was afraid to even imagine what on earth had happened last night.
It would be nice if she said something, but once Marcella got stubborn, she never backed down and didn’t even open her mouth.
“When you come to the party tonight…”
“I’m sorry to interrupt, Lord Digory.”
Marcella cut off Arther’s words. To be interrupted while speaking…
It had been a long time since Arther received such treatment from a younger lady, and he was inwardly flustered, but he nodded and waited for Marcella’s words. For some reason, he felt uneasy.
“I won’t be attending any more Founding Festival parties.”
*Why do uneasy premonitions always come true like this?!* Arther almost shot up and demanded why she would say such a thing. But that wouldn’t be the cool-headed Arther Digory.
“Surely you were invited to tonight’s party as well?”
“I’m not feeling well, so I can’t go.”
“Not feeling well…?”
“Yes.”
At Marcella’s firm attitude, Arther pursed his lips slightly.
The servant bitten by Tamarin before had his leg torn and had to be rushed to a healer; he had to stay in bed for a month. And she says she’s not feeling well? She looks perfectly fine.
“It’s a pity you’re not feeling well. It would have been lovely if you had come wearing those shoes tonight.”
“I regret it as well.”
Marcella smiled brightly with a face that showed no regret at all.
The work of spreading the rumor that His Majesty had gifted shoes to Marcella Morris was already complete. Now, if Marcella Morris herself appeared at the party wearing the Emperor-gifted shoes, the scandalous rumors were supposed to instantly turn into a pink-toned scandal.
But Marcella Morris ruined it all. If the lady at the center of the rumors didn’t keep appearing at parties, the rumors might only grow more sinister.
Arther smiled broadly as he glared at the lady thwarting his plan.
*Lady, there’s a reason they call me the fatherless Arther.*
“That Tamarin has affected Lady Marcella’s health so badly! Why didn’t you say something?!”
Startled by his gleaming eyes, Marcella flinched and pressed her back firmly against the sofa, retreating.
He shot up from his seat, making exaggerated gestures and uttering things like, “How could this happen!”, “Good heavens!” Then he tried to sit beside Marcella and take her hand.
When Marcella, startled, hid her hands behind her back, Arther paused, then smiled broadly.
“Please grant me the opportunity to apologize to His Majesty directly.”
“No, there’s no need to go that far.”
“No, Lady Marcella. This is an important matter!”
With a face that said he absolutely would not back down, Arther waved his hand and rose again.
“I will send an invitation soon.”
“What kind of invitation? If it’s a party, I said I won’t go…”
“No, Lady Marcella. I can’t ask the unwell Lady Marcella to force herself to come to a party.”
Then what kind of invitation was he talking about? As Marcella frowned and looked up at Arther, he smiled broadly.
“By any chance, is there a type of tea you dislike?”
“…Lord Digory, you’re not suggesting I should sit face-to-face with His Majesty and drink tea, are you?”
*No way!*
Seeing Marcella, who had insisted she was unwell, jump up in shock, Arther felt delighted.
“Since Lady Marcella is unwell and cannot come to the party, what else can we do?”
“I think I’m better now. I’ll just go to the party.”
“Lady Marcella! When you’re unwell, you must rest properly. Don’t overexert yourself. Considering your health, I’ll extend the invitation two days from now.”
Arther unilaterally decided when to invite her and rose from his seat.
“Lord Digory!”
“There’s no need to see me out when you’re not feeling well.”
As Marcella stood up to follow, he waved his hand and made her sit back down.
“Then I shall see you in two days.”
“Lord Digory!”
Leaving only those words, as he tried to leave, Theon hurriedly followed him out.
Left alone, Marcella sat with her mouth agape, trying to process her thoughts.
“Outrageous!”
The Emperor’s aide was outrageous. An invitation? To drink tea with the Emperor? Why on earth!
Just then, Tella, who had woken from her nap, toddled over with pattering steps. Still not fully awake, she climbed onto the sofa where Marcella sat and lay down, resting her head on Marcella’s lap.
“Auntie, why are you angry?”
Tella, lying with her head on Marcella’s lap, looked up at her face and asked.
“…He suddenly says I have to go to the imperial palace.”
“Auntie, are you going to the palace? That’s nice.”
Tella looked at Marcella, yawning widely with her little mouth. It wasn’t nice at all, but Marcella couldn’t tell the truth to Tella’s sparkling eyes. That she didn’t want to go.
*Was this how sister felt, making that troubled face whenever I envied her going to Castleade?* Marcella, feeling choked up for no reason, hugged Tella tightly.
***
*He actually sent the invitation. No, ‘sent’ isn’t right; he brought it himself.*
Marcella glared at Arther Digory, who was smiling broadly and holding out the invitation with both hands.
The invitation, infuriatingly, was a golden one stamped with the imperial crest. If one valued their life, they couldn’t refuse it.
“Here, please read it and let’s go.”
“Go? Go where?”
“To enjoy tea time with His Majesty, of course.”
“Lord Digory, I just received the invitation *now*.”
“But you *have* received it, haven’t you?”
Arther smiled broadly, pressed the invitation into Marcella’s hand, and began pushing her from behind.
“Wait a moment. Let me speak first!”
“Isn’t Acting Count Morris out at the moment? It’ll be too late to tell him after he returns.”
“How do you know that?”
“Now, now, His Majesty is waiting, Lady Marcella. Don’t worry about Theon. I’ll explain it well to him.”
Marcella tried to resist, but Arther was implacable. He personally opened the door of the carriage he had arrived in and pushed Marcella inside.
As Marcella burst out with complaints about what he was doing, Arther closed the carriage door, sat down, and immediately knocked on the carriage window. The quick-witted coachman started the carriage before Marcella could get up.
“Lord Digory.”
Marcella’s voice was laced with anger. Arther, instead of looking at her face, smiled broadly and looked at the crumpled golden invitation in her hand.
“Lord Digory.”
“Yes, Lady Marcella.”
Only when Marcella called again did Arther finally meet her eyes. He could see she was extremely angry.
“I thought His Majesty invited me today to apologize to me.”
“I’m glad you understand correctly, Lady Marcella.”
“But who forces the person they want to apologize to into a carriage like this?”
“A loyal servant of His Majesty does.”
At Arther’s utterly brazen attitude, Marcella was speechless. He didn’t even deny the fact that he had forced her into the carriage.
As Marcella glared silently, Arther smiled broadly and raised his hand.
“Don’t worry, there won’t be any incident of Tamarin attacking Lady Marcella.”
“Can you guarantee that, Lord Digory?”
“If you wish, I’ll even swear. That even if I have to offer my own head in its place, I’ll stop Tamarin if he tries to put your head in his mouth again.”
Arther was confident, but Marcella couldn’t be completely at ease.
While Tamarin was the biggest reason she was reluctant to go to the palace, even aside from him, the palace wasn’t a welcome place. She was also uneasy about what an Emperor who sent such a pushy aide to ‘apologize’ was really thinking.
And that thought turned from a suspicion to a certainty when she found herself sitting face-to-face with the Emperor across a single table.
*Did he really call me here to apologize?* As if to confirm her doubts, the Emperor, rather than looking apologetic, merely drank his tea with a sleepy expression.
Occasionally, he would prop his chin on his hand and look at Marcella before turning his eyes away—he looked unmistakably drowsy. If he was gauging the timing to apologize, he was an incredibly calm actor.
Marcella began to wonder why the Emperor had summoned her. If he wanted to apologize, he could just break this excruciating silence and do it. So why? *Could it be…*
Marcella looked around, searching for a large brown mane.
The Emperor might have summoned her to punish her for touching his Divine Beast. In that case, Arther’s pushy behavior in bringing her here was somewhat understandable.
“Looking for something?”
Nell, who hadn’t said a word, spoke. Thanks to that, Marcella flinched at his voice and opened her eyes wide.
Nell tilted his head slightly, then slowly looked around.
*I was looking to see if your Divine Beast might attack me.* Marcella moved her lips, then swallowed.
“There are many types of flowers.”
Marcella added that the flowers were beautiful and kept nodding to hide her true feelings. At that, Nell got up from his seat.
He walked toward the flowers blooming closest by and tilted his head.
“Many types?”
*Why does he look like he doesn’t understand?* Was he saying this wasn’t even considered a lot?
Marcella felt displeased, as if her barely-stammered compliment had been dismissed.
*’Marcella, at the palace, there’s a huge glass garden that can fit 100, no, 200 people! And you know how many types of flowers there are? It’s the ultimate luxury, gathering all the most beautiful flowers in the world.’*
When her sister had said that, Marcella thought she was teasing or lying again. But Marcella realized her words weren’t a lie. And Marcella, who had seen that ultimate luxury with her own two eyes, agreed with her sister’s words.
