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Chapter 10
On a spring day when warm sunlight peeked through the windows,
children dressed in their finest clothes sat tense, eyes glued to the checkerboard.
After a long, steadying breath, a boy finally snapped his fingers with force.
Snap!
With a crisp sound, a white stone slid across the smooth surface.
But the stone stopped just short of its target.
The boy grabbed his head in despair.
“Argh! If it had gone just a bit further, I could have taken two at once!”
“Hmph! That’s what happens when you rely only on strength! For the big moves, you have to empty your heart of greed.”
A lie. The truth was, I was terrified he might knock my stones off in one shot.
I snorted smugly, flattening myself to the table to find the perfect angle.
Above my head, a makeshift paper decoration fluttered in the air.
<Adelaide Bae’s 1st Annual Game Piece Flicking Tournament>
Thwack!
A black stone flew from afar, knocking the white stone off the board—but stopped just barely in time.
Gasps and applause erupted from the spectators at the skillful trick.
Only three stones remained: two black, one white.
Unless another miracle occurred, white’s defeat was certain.
“Grrr…!”
I watched the boy’s face twist in the realization of his impending loss, savoring the calm confidence of a victor.
“You’ve got ten more years before you can even think about competing with me, rookie!”
Because Antoine had said he needed friends, Father promised to invite the children of the merchant guild members to the next meeting.
Finally, on the day of the gathering,
those in charge of eastern trade, financiers tied to them, lawyers, and other important players arrived at the Sharmez mansion with their children.
While the adults held their meeting, Antoine would make new friends, and I—strategically—would spot the budding talents among them. Perfect plan.
That is, until we opened the doors to the banquet hall.
‘What…?’
As soon as we stepped inside, the children, scattered in small groups playing with toys, froze.
A glance—hard, unwelcoming—fell on Antoine and me.
Feeling the stiff tension, Antoine flinched and clung to my arm, hiding behind me.
Mixed into the curious, cautious eyes directed at us was unmistakable hostility.
At the center of those eyes was Uncle Guillaume’s son.
‘Felix Hedebo…’
The Felix Hedebo I remembered had ruined his family by borrowing investments under his father’s name and failing spectacularly.
Fortunately, now he seemed more interested in dunking biscuits in milk than destroying his lineage.
“…….”
“…….”
Our eyes met. He said nothing, only staring as he devoured his cake.
As if daring me to greet him first.
Laughable. His glare only strained his own eyes—it couldn’t pierce the back of my head.
As I looked away, the other children, crouched around him like sycophants, giggled.
“Don’t worry, Antoine. Stay calm. I’ll handle this. He isn’t worth my time.”
“Felix… are you really going to let her greet first…?”
“The impatient always come first. Just wait calmly.”
The boy swallowed a ‘but…’ that had risen to his throat.
Hmph.
Felix had never once thought himself poor or lacking.
Here, he was the best—oldest, tallest, with the most wealth. Everyone fawned over him without restraint.
But the moment he met Adelaide, his seemingly eternal throne began to quake from its roots.
He could take anything he wanted—but status was something he could never claim.
‘Lucky to have been born noble…’
That was what burned in Felix’s chest. Someone born into luck, possessing what he could never have, and bold enough to command him with a single word.
And Adelaide was a few months older and slightly taller than him.
‘No, that’s just the heels. Once she’s barefoot, I’ll be taller!’
His bruised pride boiled into jealousy.
He had to squash her spirit completely from the start. Never allow her to be cheeky.
Yet the situation took an unexpected turn.
“Hi, I’m Adelaide. This is my brother, Antoine.”
The same girl who had lowered her gaze like a meek dog now addressed the other children.
Looking closer, they were all younger, dull, or from ordinary families not worth befriending.
Felix could not comprehend this situation.
“Can I play with you too?”
“Uh… uh… Adelaide…?”
“Don’t call me Miss Adelaide. Just ‘Adel’ is fine. What’s your name?”
One of these children would eventually become useful—a lawyer, banker, high-ranking official. Best to get friendly now. Mother and Father said so.
“I-Ipholitte… Ipholitte Rivers. My parents call me Polly…”
Though his voice was timid, a small, flower-like smile bloomed across Ipholitte’s face.
And mine mirrored it instantly.
Rivers… I remembered. Owners of the largest bank in Loire, responsible for tossing me out without a house in my previous life because of a rejected loan.
In other words, getting friendly with Ipholitte now meant no future financial troubles.
“What a pretty name. Were you playing with dolls? I like dolls too.”
Just recently, Uncle Guillaume had bought me one.
Plump porcelain arms, real silk dress, a brooch on its chest—even if crude, it was a real ruby.
It was beautiful enough, but Ipholitte’s astonishment was priceless.
Her tiny lips parted like a chick’s beak, giving me space to join in play.
Then, a sharp voice:
“Hey, you! Who do you think you are, barging in here?”
“Oh, you must respect your future mother-in-law.”
I waved my dolls dramatically.
“Mother-in-law? You’re not my mother-in-law!”
“Well, I married the duke. Your fiancé is my son now.”
