Chapter 55
“Hmm, is that so…?”
Ishtin had said it sincerely. But Miela, knowing she didn’t have any gift of prophecy, responded vaguely. Mistaking her uncertainty for lack of confidence, Ishtin continued to encourage her.
“Well, who cares either way? Whether you’re a saintess or a prophet, it doesn’t matter to me. I like you just the way you are.”
“Really?”
“Of course. You don’t need to be anything special.”
Truthfully, Ishtin didn’t want Miela to become someone special. Sure, it would be nice if she gained some amazing abilities. But if that happened, wouldn’t everyone want and need Miela?
‘I hate that. I want to be the only one who sees her kind and adorable side.’
It was a truly childish and petty jealousy.
* * *
“This way, Lord Ishtin of House Baluar and Lady Miela.”
The imperial palace was vast and complicated. After getting off the carriage, Miela and Ishtin followed the attendant guiding them. Regina and Yurhan had already gone ahead to the banquet hall.
Miela kept reciting the etiquette lessons taught by her tutor in her head. If she didn’t, she feared she’d be too distracted by her surroundings and gape with her mouth hanging open.
‘Wow, just like the rumors said—the palace is incredibly extravagant and grand!’
A red carpet stretched across the entire corridor atop white marble floors. The windows were draped with deep violet velvet curtains, and the ceiling was adorned with dizzyingly intricate murals.
Golden moldings and statues scattered around made it abundantly clear this was indeed the imperial palace.
“This is the place. Please, both of you may enter.”
They’d reached the destination before they even realized it, distracted as they were by the scenery.
The attendant led them to an elegant mahogany door and then stepped back.
“Presenting Lord Ishtin of House Baluar and his fiancée, Lady Miela!”
As they entered, another attendant at the door announced their arrival in a loud voice. Instantly, countless eyes from inside turned in perfect unison toward them.
“…!”
All those present seemed to be around Ishtin and Miela’s age—young nobles, sons and daughters of prestigious families. Unlike seasoned aristocrats, they couldn’t mask their surprise, most staring with mouths agape.
“What? Lord Baluar?”
“Wasn’t he supposed to be too sick to appear in public? He looks healthy to me.”
Some children from friendly families whispered among themselves.
“But who’s that beside him? I’ve never seen her before.”
“They didn’t mention any noble family name in the introduction. I think her name was Miela.”
“So she’s a commoner?”
One young noble’s mutter made others around them gasp and cover their mouths in surprise. A strange, tense energy filled the air.
“House Baluar taking in a commoner as a daughter-in-law? That’s huge news!”
“Right? Daisy, didn’t you know? I heard your mother’s the most informed person in all of high society.”
“If she had known, she would’ve told me for sure. This is my first time hearing it too.”
Even Lady Daisy, daughter of the Count known as the social butterfly of the aristocracy, couldn’t hide her shocked expression.
‘What should I do? Everyone’s looking at me…’
Meanwhile, Miela struggled to calm her racing heart. It wasn’t often she found herself the center of attention like this, and her knees were trembling. Thankfully, her dress hid it well.
‘Pull it together. This is my first social gathering—I can’t make a fool of myself.’
As the future lady of House Baluar, her behavior would be imprinted in the minds of many. She couldn’t bring shame to the Baluar name.
Suddenly, a terrifying piece of advice from the Duchess crossed her mind: Nobles are like packs of jackals—if you let your guard down, you could lose your head before you know it.
‘They may be dressed glamorously, but they’re probably around my age… Are they all secretly ready to bite at any moment? Unbelievable.’
The thought made the back of her neck prickle. Miela instinctively touched her necklace, pretending to adjust it while lowering her head slightly.
She’d heard that House Baluar had many enemies, but apart from the Marquess of Sybil, she had no idea which families she should be wary of.
‘Why didn’t the original novel include this kind of information?’
Grumbling inwardly at the author, Miela quickly straightened her posture again. Regina’s advice rang in her ears—never show your weakness. She couldn’t afford to look scared.
Just then—
“Nice to meet you, Lord Ishtin. It’s been a few years since we last met, hasn’t it? Ha ha ha.”
A young nobleman, dressed to impress and trying to act like a gentleman, swaggered up to them.
His name was Maxion, the second son of Viscount Gallos. His hair shone ridiculously bright under the lights, probably due to an excessive amount of pomade.
“A few years ago? Sorry, I don’t remember. What’s your name?”
Even in the face of Maxion’s rude behavior, Ishtin didn’t flinch at all.
In social gatherings, if one initiates conversation without being particularly close, it’s standard etiquette to introduce yourself and your family name. But Maxion hadn’t even done that.
“M-my name? Ahem, I’m Maxion of House Gallos. We’ve spoken a few times in the past. It’s a shame you don’t remember. Ahem.”
He hadn’t expected Ishtin to forget his name entirely. Maxion’s face turned bright red from the embarrassment of trying to act friendly only to get shut down.
In truth, Maxion’s rudeness was quite intentional. Years ago, he had tried to get close to Lord Baluar at a Founding Festival celebration, only to be harshly dismissed.
‘The Gallos kid… That all he’s got? Stupid jokes and immature pranks. I had a bad feeling, and I was right—totally not my level.’
Maxion still remembered the humiliation he felt back then. After all, his servants always laughed heartily at his jokes and banter.
“Lord Ishtin, did you see that lady? Her hair looks like a mop the maids use to clean! Hahaha! Even sewer rats would reject her!”
“You might want to hold your tongue.”
Maxion’s usual tactic was gossiping about people passing by to create a sense of camaraderie.
Ishtin, clearly displeased, had warned him, but Maxion was even more tactless back then.
“Hey, look at that guy’s pants. Why’s he wearing them so low? Did he wet himself or something? Hehehe.”
“…”
Eventually, Ishtin couldn’t take it anymore, snapped, and walked away. Maxion had been left stunned and humiliated.
He felt insulted—as if his jokes were considered low-class. And ever since, he’d secretly resented Ishtin.
‘Just because you’re from a ducal house… So what? You’re nothing but a sickly little brat.’
At the time, rumors had spread that Ishtin was suffering from some incurable disease. In reality, it was an excuse to hide the curse he was under, but the misunderstanding persisted.
Anyway, although Maxion had grown somewhat since then and refrained from openly crude gossip, he still engaged in attention-seeking behavior.
“Ah, so you’re Viscount Gallos’s son.”
“Ha ha! So you remember me now? Yes, that’s me!”
Ishtin scowled at Maxion’s overly familiar tone.
“Hmm. I’ve heard of the family, sure. But I still don’t really remember you. Did we really talk?”
“Whaat?!”
“I’d prefer if you stepped aside now. I’m worried your hair grease might get on me.”
Truthfully, Ishtin did remember him—vividly, even. After all, unpleasant memories tend to stick.
Repeating Maxion’s own style of mockery back at him, Ishtin made the boy’s face flush to the point of exploding.
“Ugh…!”
Meanwhile, as Ishtin dealt with Maxion, Miela found herself surrounded by a group of young noble ladies. One of them, wearing the most extravagant hair ornament, approached her with a sweet tone and asked—
(…to be continued)
