Chapter 9

The Empire’s social scene hosted countless balls, banquets, concerts, reading clubs, and other gatherings of every size.

They were places where nobles exchanged information, formed alliances, and discussed cooperation.

Among them, the Masquerade Ball was the second-largest and one of the most popular social events held during the first half of the year.

Naturally, there was a reason for that.

‘Being able to hide your face means being able to move more freely.’

At this ball, it was acceptable to search for a new romantic partner, make unusual proposals while concealing one’s identity, or even indulge in small acts of rebellion that normally wouldn’t be allowed.

Of course, if someone truly wanted to discover a person’s identity, they usually could.

But unless something serious happened, everyone agreed to look the other way.

That was the unspoken rule of the masquerade.

For that reason, Beatrice and Clyde deliberately attended wearing masks that barely concealed their identities at all.

The reason was simple.

‘Valoa’s patience should be reaching its limit soon.’

Neither of them had considered the possibility that Valoa wouldn’t attend.

She loved parties and entertainment far too much.

‘What’s the chance that even an ordinary person would stay calm at a masquerade like this, and Valoa would simply enjoy herself before going home with a smile?’

That possibility didn’t exist.

Finding a flying pig would probably be easier.

The opposite scenario, however, was extremely realistic.

Namely…

The chance that an already furious Valoa would see a happy-looking couple and completely lose control.

‘Even if Valoa wasn’t one hundred percent certain we were her target, she’d still cause trouble.’

And afterward she’d probably claim:

“It’s your fault for making me misunderstand.”

At that point, it was easier to just become the target willingly.

That way they could respond more easily once she made her move.

The problem was…

“Wait, aren’t those two feeding each other food Lady Hartwell and Sir Dalton?”

“They’re wearing lace masks, but it’s obviously them, isn’t it? I saw them dancing together earlier. They were whispering and laughing the whole time.”

“Oh! Then Sir Dalton must’ve been the one helping her with her shawl near the powder room. My goodness, they really are enjoying married life.”

“Well, they’ve hidden their relationship for so long. It’s understandable. Ah, maybe that’s why they’re wearing such simple masks? Like they’re saying they don’t want to hide anymore.”

“Oh my. This might be rude to say, but if that’s true, it’s actually kind of adorable.”

…Neither of them had expected revealing themselves at an anonymous event to attract this much attention.

Completely exhausted by the endless stares directed her way, Beatrice eventually fled to a quiet corner of the ballroom.

Watching her retreat, Clyde picked up two drinks and quietly followed.

“Here.”

“…Ugh. What are you doing? I came over here to hide for a bit. If you’re here too, people are just going to keep talking.”

“And what if Lady Valoa decides to do something while you’re alone? It’s fine. I won’t pay attention to them.”

“Yeah, right.”

“I’m serious. Once people satisfy their curiosity, they usually stop caring.”

Beatrice hesitated.

‘Now that he says it… maybe that’s true?’

Even so, she pressed herself further behind a decorative display to hide.

Leaning slightly toward her, Clyde tilted his chin.

“Look more carefully. We haven’t gained nothing from this.”

“Huh…?”

Following the direction he indicated, Beatrice scanned the crowd.

Then she let out a small gasp.

“Ah.”

Without him explaining further, she immediately understood.

Among all the masked guests hiding their identities, one person stood out unmistakably.

“Wow. That’s actually terrifying. I don’t know who it is, but somehow I know exactly who it is.”

“Right?”

“It’s amazing that I can recognize her even with all that makeup and disguise.”

Beatrice genuinely meant it.

If not for those eyes, she wouldn’t have recognized the woman dressed head to toe in colorful fabrics resembling a giant parrot.

Even while casually swirling wine in her glass, the woman never once lost track of their movements.

Her persistence was almost admirable.

The only problem was that she was directing all of it at them.

Rubbing her arm, Beatrice whispered:

“But she’s really just watching us. Honestly, I thought she’d cause a scene like she did at our wedding.”

“Maybe she’s waiting for an opportunity.”

Clyde took a sip of his drink.

“And I already told you. Her first move will probably be trying to separate us.”

“By spilling wine? Sending someone over?”

“Exactly.”

“And if that happens, remember what I told you to do.”

Beatrice shot him a look.

A look that clearly said:

“Ask me one more time and I’ll kill you.”

Clyde remained completely shameless.

“What, Bea? You’ve already forgotten? Fine. I guess I’ll have to explain everything from the beginning—”

“The meeting place!”

She immediately cut him off.

“The old tree in the garden behind the estate. That’s where I go. Happy now?”

“Yep.”

“Stop smiling. Seriously. If there weren’t people around, I’d hit you.”

“That’s exactly why I did it. Want me to get you some cold water to cool down?”

“Get lost.”

Clyde laughed quietly at the sight of Beatrice complaining while simultaneously worrying about how others were watching them.

Naturally, his reward came immediately.

“AAAH!”

A sharp jab landed in his side.

“Shhh.”

Beatrice smiled sweetly.

“Keep smiling, Honey. Someone might think I’m bullying you.”

A familiar threat disguised as affection.

***

From the most secluded corner of the ballroom, Valoa watched the two of them relentlessly.

Her lips, painted a vivid crimson to match her outfit, twisted naturally.

“How fascinating. What could possibly be so entertaining between those two?”

They weren’t admiring a masterpiece.

They weren’t enjoying a magnificent view.

They hadn’t received some priceless gift.

They weren’t experiencing the thrill of obtaining something they desperately wanted.

All they were doing was drinking, chatting about meaningless things, and dancing together.

And yet…

They looked genuinely happy.

‘Happy enough to ruin my mood just by looking at them.’

Suppressing the urge to throw her wine glass across the room, Valoa blinked slowly.

‘No. I should do exactly what I was thinking.’

People called her reckless.

A menace.

A troublemaker.

But whenever possible, she actually preferred obtaining what she wanted through proper noble methods.

She had sent proposals.

She had confessed.

She had objected at the wedding.

She had even gone to the Emperor himself and requested the marriage be annulled.

Hadn’t she behaved quite nobly?

And what had she received in return?

“Lady Crawford. I’ve told you every time you’ve asked. I do not belong to you. I am neither an object nor prey. How can I belong to someone else?”

“Have you completely lost your mind? They’re not getting divorced, so give up and leave. This is your final warning. If you pull something like this again, I won’t let it slide. Valoa, when are you finally going to learn that not everything in this world goes your way?”

Remembering all those rejections, Valoa bit her lower lip.

‘What do you mean, not everything goes my way?’

That kind of thing didn’t exist.

At least not in her world.

‘And besides… a marriage doesn’t have to end through legal divorce.’

If one spouse died…

Or disappeared…

The marriage would still end.

At that moment, her gaze landed on the youngest daughter of the Hartwell family.

Beatrice had just stood up.

Interestingly, Clyde wasn’t following her this time.

It looked like she was heading off alone, perhaps toward the restroom.

Valoa’s lips curved upward.

‘Look at that. She’s moving around by herself at exactly the right time.’

‘See? There really is no such thing as impossible.’