Chapter 44
Ivin almost said to Rosignol, “The holy knight said he was grateful to me,” but she stopped herself mid-thought and closed her mouth.
Even to her own ears it sounded strange—so how much worse would it sound if the emperor heard it?
“What.”
“Yes?”
“Why did you stop talking halfway?”
“Uh… well… he warned me that I shouldn’t use pitch-black energy inside the hall.”
“That’s all?”
Having ended up lying unintentionally, Ivin nodded quickly.
“Enough. Just let the phantoms roam.”
Rosignol said, glancing toward the children.
“But…”
“It’s an imperial order.”
“But if the holy knight says something again—”
“Say I ordered it.”
At Rosignol’s firm attitude, Ivin once again fell silent.
The thought that rose in her mind was, ‘Can an imperial order really nullify the saint’s command?’
But she couldn’t bring herself to say it out loud.
Strangely, that realization left a bitter taste.
‘The emperor, called the Sun of the Empire, declares it an order… and yet in front of that, I was unconsciously still reading the saint’s mood.’
Was this what people called assimilation?
Humans were astonishingly quick to adapt to their surroundings.
It seemed to be a rule that applied equally inside novels and in the outside world.
As an observer or reader, one could maintain a certain level of objectivity—but once inside the text itself, her consciousness had unconsciously assimilated into the worldview and atmosphere of that world.
When Ivin had read the original story as a reader, the figure Rosignol reminded her of was Puyi, the last emperor of the Qing dynasty.
A hollow puppet, a marionette emperor.
A decorative shell used by powerful factions to conceal their ambitions—a convenient pretext.
“What are you staring at so hard? Never seen a handsome man before?”
“….”
Noticing Ivin’s gaze, Rosignol tugged one corner of his lips upward faintly.
‘Yeah, right. As if that lunatic would be engaging in deep contemplation and self-reflection about his own position. Forget it.’
When Ivin gave him a faint smile, Rosignol frowned slightly, as if displeased.
“What’s with that ambiguous smile?”
“It was a positive smile, actually…”
“I don’t like it.”
“Pardon?”
“It feels… lacking sincerity.”
“Well…”
Objectively speaking, Rosignol was handsome.
Of course, since the male lead of the original story was Theodore, who enjoyed protagonist buffs, there was that—but it meant Rosignol was no less striking in appearance.
Platinum-blond hair without a single blemish, marking his pure imperial bloodline.
Arrogant crimson eyes.
And an air of nobility that blatantly proclaimed, I am the richest man in this country.
It was just that his brand of handsomeness differed slightly from Theodore’s.
Theodore, a former soldier, had the physique of a well-trained hunting hound.
Broad shoulders, a thick and long neckline, a solid chest tapering into a narrow waist.
Frequent outdoor training had given him slightly tanned, golden skin, paired with black hair and eyes—a thoroughly masculine type.
Theodore’s gaze evoked the mystery and depth of a midnight sea.
Rosignol’s eyes, by contrast, carried the distinctive arrogance of royalty that looked down on the entire world.
Aside from both being tall, it was hard to find similarities between them.
Well, in the end—
Both were exceptionally handsome.
Exceptionally so.
“…You are.”
“What?”
“You’re very… handsome.”
“Didn’t anyone teach you how to speak clearly, Ivin?”
Ivin felt a surge of indignation.
Her face was already burning red from head to toe.
She wasn’t someone built for saying such greasy compliments.
At this rate, she felt like steam might start shooting out of the top of her head like a train whistle.
Still, she decided to endure it just once more.
“…You are very handsome.”
“I’m afraid that was too quiet to hear properly.”
Ah…
Is he seriously messing with me?
What—should she climb onto the marble podium where the saint had given her speech and shout at the top of her lungs?
Hoo.
Letting out a short sigh inwardly, she steeled herself again and enunciated exactly what he wanted to hear.
“Tru-ly. Real-ly. Very. Hand-some. Your. Maj-es-ty.”
“Heh heh.”
“……”
Heh heh my ass, you lunatic.
Even kind-hearted Ivin felt the urge to punch his smiling face.
Rosignol—an owner of such remarkable character that he could provoke violent impulses in even the gentlest soul.
“Alright! We will now begin preparing the hall for the evening event! All children and volunteers, please exit the hall in an orderly manner and move to the residential wing!”
A staff member from the orphanage shouted.
It seemed preparations for the ‘Night of the Orphanage Charity Event’ were officially beginning.
Once all the children moved to the residential wing, personnel from the Holy Bureau entered the hall carrying various pieces of equipment.
They moved briskly around the hall, efficiently setting up decorations and installations.
“Double-check the number of tables!”
“Place the candelabra at the very center!”
The podium where the saint had spoken earlier transformed into a stage.
Tables where nobles could sit comfortably were arranged below it.
Soon, pristine white tablecloths were spread over the tables, and the luxurious fresh flowers that had adorned the saint’s podium were placed into vases.
Beside them, tree-branch-shaped candleholders lit up in vibrant colors.
From the ceiling, layered chiffon drapes cascaded down, creating an atmosphere that was both elegant and extravagant.
“My, you’re a bit late, madam?”
“Oh! So the esteemed guest from afar has finally arrived!”
“My goodness, the road was so rough. My hips nearly gave out—but at least we made it before dinner.”
The nobles who had contributed donations wandered about the hall—now transformed into a banquet venue—chatting in small groups.
The men wore refined tuxedos, while the women dazzled in glamorous dresses and sparkling jewels.
An ensemble invited by the Holy Bureau played music from one side of the hall, enhancing the atmosphere, while nobles enjoyed the prepared food and drinks, laughter blooming everywhere.
“Tonight’s banquet has been specially prepared by the saint to express her gratitude to all of you who have offered generous support during this ‘Special Relief Period.’ We humbly ask for your continued interest and patronage in the future.”
The one who stepped forward to address the nobles was Elder Matteo.
In response, all the nobles raised their glasses.
As the elder said, this banquet was an important occasion meant to strengthen ties between the wealthy nobility and the Holy Bureau, reinforcing the necessity of continued support.
“Would you like some more canapés?”
As the nobles enjoyed themselves, attendants carefully moved about with silver trays piled high with canapés.
There were more than eight varieties.
Salmon and cream cheese on baguette slices, tomato bruschetta mixed with basil, garlic, and olive oil, seafood mousse canapés, and more.
While all were popular, the steak tartare canapés—soft and rich in flavor—were especially well-received.
“Where is this caviar from?”
A noblewoman asked, resting her cheek against her palm as she pointed to a canapé topped with gleaming caviar and smooth crème fraîche.
“My lady, this caviar comes from the mysterious Aperonia Archipelago. Thanks to its unique ocean currents and marine ecosystem, it boasts a flavor and texture unmatched anywhere else.”
The attendant replied politely.
The noblewoman smiled in satisfaction and placed the canapé in her mouth.
As the nutty flavor of the caviar burst across her palate, her eyes sparkled with delight.
And so, as the banquet continued in full swing—
Holy knights still stood guard around the hall like an iron fortress, while the royal guards lined up near the table where the emperor sat.
Their solemn expressions contrasted sharply with the hall’s splendor, but to the nobles, they were merely part of the background.
Meanwhile—
The very person who could be called the true star of the banquet, Saint Pavella, was nowhere to be seen.
She was still in the waiting room, being fitted for her dress.
“Saint, the evening banquet has begun. Shall we let them enter?”
“Let them in.”
At her permission, the empire’s finest tailors and young women in nun’s habits entered in a line.
They carried armfuls of dresses.
One nun placed a box of jewelry on the table, while another struggled to set up a full-length mirror in front of it.
Meanwhile, the tailors arranged the beautiful dresses neatly beside her so she could see them all at once.
“Shall we go with the dress you liked most during the last fitting?”
A tailor carefully asked, lifting a beautiful pale-violet Creisin dress.
“I need to try them from the beginning again.”
“Which one would you like to start with?”
“The one on the far right.”
Pavella began changing, one dress after another.
