WWOT

chapter 06

Yes! You have to buy a lottery ticket to win the lottery.

A determined gleam flashed in Minuet’s eyes.

Back in university, her department had been filled entirely with women, and at her company there hadn’t been any “dateable” men around. That was her excuse for why she had never dated.

[There just aren’t any suitable men.]

That was what Minuet always told her friends when they pestered her with intrusive questions.

So, I like good-looking faces after all.

Clutching her teacup with both hands, Minuet reached a conclusion.

Only now did she realize that the countless beautiful designs and artworks she had studied for her work had raised her standards sky-high.

She tried to recall every romance novel and drama she’d ever seen, hoping to borrow a line for introducing herself to the handsome man she’d just spotted for the first time…

…But of course, nothing came to mind.

After this exam. After this job hunt. After this promotion.

Always putting things off because of school and work, she had saved up all the romances she wanted to read or watch, but never got around to them. And now—she hadn’t consumed any, so she didn’t know anything. That thought suddenly made her feel even more miserable.

While Minuet clutched her head, desperately searching for words, the handsome man at the edge of her gaze calmly sorted through the documents spread across his table.

Please.

Afraid he might leave any second, Minuet hastily gestured for the waiter.

“Could you send a cup of this tea to that table over there?”

She tried to mask her trembling voice with the dignity of a noble lady.

If she couldn’t think of the perfect start, then she just had to start somehow.

Whether it was dice or stones—Minuet had to throw something to catch this perfect man’s attention.

“Excuse me?”

The waiter blinked in disbelief at the ridiculous request from the young noblewoman, eyes round with surprise.

“You’d like me to… send him this tea?”
“…Is that not allowed?”

The girl was clearly wearing an expensive silk dress—at the very least, she was the daughter of a central noble house.

With a sigh, the waiter resigned himself.

Nobles were always like this—unreasonable and unrealistic.

If they wished it, one not only had to serve the tea, but practically swim in it.

The waiter recalled the faces of coworkers who had been forced out of cafés by nobles catching them on the smallest excuses.

“…Of course, it’s possible.”

The dice had been cast.

Embarrassment was fleeting, but beauty was forever.

…Right?

Feeling she had just done something insane, Minuet squeezed her eyes shut. When she cautiously peeked them open, she met the bewildered stares of two men who had just received the tea.

Their eyes locked—and Minuet reflexively gave a bright smile, openly confessing that she was the one who sent it.

The undone top button of his shirt, the glimpse of pale skin, and above all—his face…

A jackpot!

As she took in his features, Minuet screamed inside with joy.

Her reckless act suddenly had the most convincing justification: that impossibly handsome face.

While she beamed, cheeks lifting endlessly, the man frowned, stood, and walked toward her.

He’s coming. He’s coming…

Panicked, Minuet quickly moved her teacup aside, hoping the white tablecloth would reflect the sunlight like a photographer’s reflector.

“Good afternoon.”

A well-dressed man in a clean suit, holding a folded newspaper, stopped at her table.

The closer he came, the more striking his features became, and Minuet congratulated herself for having thrown the dice. She greeted him with a shy smile.

“I see you sent me a cup of tea.”

Onyx, curious as to what whim had driven the lady who had rejected his proposal in the newspapers to approach him first, spoke up.

“I hope my tea hasn’t been a discourtesy.”
“Discourtesy? Surely not—especially from a lady bold enough for greater discourtesies.”

Onyx’s words walked a fine line between courtesy and mockery.

Minuet wondered if she had erred by speaking first, and quickly tried to explain.

“I… I only wished to make an acquaintance…”
“An acquaintance? You must find giving easier than receiving, then.”

Giving? Well… yes, that’s true…

Not understanding the implication, Minuet nodded honestly, revealing her tastes.

“And you prefer private meetings like this over formal ones?”
“Eh? W-what do you mean…!”

Finally, her gaze dropped from his face to the newspaper in his hand—where she saw an illustration of herself. Shocked, she snatched it from him.

“Heavens! Where did you get this paper?”

Onyx watched, dumbfounded, as the lady bolted from the café clutching the newspaper, two flustered maids hurrying after her with her belongings.

“…What on earth was that.”

Rejecting a proposal, only to send him tea at a café? How could he explain such nonsense?

“What else? It’s just a little rebellion from a lady who’s barely risen from her sickbed.”

Egon, who had been watching with amusement, chuckled as he approached. What seemed like reckless audacity was generously reframed by him as “rebellion.”

“She must have been dreadfully bored after such a long illness.”

It had been a rare moment of respite after a grueling meeting with shrewd foreign merchants, and yet this lady had managed to disrupt it so spectacularly.

First the newspaper article.
Then the tea she’d personally sent.

“I thought I’d grown used to noblewomen’s whims, but to witness one right before my eyes… Maybe I’m still too naïve.”
“Perhaps society’s standards rose while you were absent.”
“…Ha. The Empire’s future worries me greatly.”

Egon, unable to hold back his laughter, pulled another newspaper from his coat and flaunted it.

<The Lavine House Rejects the Tourmaline Imperial Family>

“Don’t fret. This is exactly why I bought a second copy.”

He placed a hand on Onyx’s shoulder encouragingly.

“See? This illustration is splendid. The art world of the Biscue Empire has a bright future—though it still doesn’t do justice to the real Lavine lady.”
“Shut it, Egon Berkshire.”
“Oh, come on. Now they’ll just need to add another headline: ‘The Lady Who Refused the Crown Prince to His Face.’”
“…Insufferable fool.”

Onyx cast a look of disbelief at the door where the crazy lady had vanished. A strong scent of flowers drifted in with the breeze.

The overly sweet fragrance and the gentle spring sunshine suddenly grated on him.

Everyone seemed mad these days. Perhaps spring made people want to stick flowers in their hair.

“Milady, I brought all the newspapers you requested.”

Lena came in carrying a huge bundle.

“My goodness, Lena… there are this many?”
“I scooped up every paper that had even the ‘Lavine’ name in it. Honestly, most of the stands were filled with nothing but your family’s news anyway.”
“Oh no. What am I going to do…”

Minuet let out a shrill little cry, staring at the pile.

Damn the press.

With her face plastered everywhere, had she ruined this life too?

“I mean, you didn’t even make an official refusal. Why all the fuss? These papers sniff out noble scandals so obsessively, they’d write about a neighbor child’s underwear color. Seems no one has anything better to do.”

Unbothered, Lena set down the papers her lady had ordered, while Minuet looked near tears.

She picked up one with the largest illustration of her face.

“It’s fine, milady. These articles will be forgotten quickly… probably.”
“But why… why is only my face here…”

Lena, who had been patting her mistress’s back, frowned as she peeked at the page.

“Exactly! How dare they draw you like this when you’re so beautiful!”

Though the artists had done their best to flatter her, as Egon had remarked, Lena still puffed up indignantly, hands on her hips.

“The whole capital should know how pretty you are! And this is the best they could manage?”
“No, I mean… why is it only me they drew? Where’s the Crown Prince’s face?”
“Ha! You think the papers could publish his Highness’s likeness? They’d all be arrested!”

Lena wiped away her mistress’s tears with her thumbs.

“Even the most powerful paper can’t break the law forbidding portraits of the Imperial Family, except for the Emperor. That’s why only your face was shown.”

What?
You get arrested for printing the royals’ faces…?

Still sniffling, Minuet glanced at the pile Lena had brought—easily more than ten.

One, two, three…

Could something this widespread really be forgotten quickly?

Some articles described the formal wedding process, others harshly listed Minuet’s flaws that made her unfit to be Crown Princess, while still others praised the Lavine family history as proof of her suitability. There were even illustrations of women rumored to have had affairs with the Crown Prince.

“What did I do to deserve this? Lena, what should I do now?”
“Don’t worry, milady. People forget these flashy stories quickly. They’ll even forget the Crown Prince was rejected! By the time of the wedding.”
“…What?”
“I mean, by the time of the ceremony, every front page will proclaim you the rightful Crown Princess.”
“…You mean… when I marry him?”

As Lena stacked the scattered papers, her heart swelled despite the extra work—her lady was finally recovering from illness and would be married off soon.

“So… in the end, I really do have to marry that little Crown Prince?”

Minuet spoke hesitantly, watching Lena’s reaction.

“Milady! That’s what you were worried about?”

Hands on her waist, Lena glared fiercely.

“Instead of saying such nonsense, you should be practicing piano!”

Her gentle tone from before vanished instantly.

“But think about it… Which is worse? Quietly marrying the child Crown Prince, or having my name splashed across every paper and dragged through the mud? I have to choose one or the other, don’t I?”
“Milady!”

What am I going to do with this reckless girl?

Lena hurried to shut the door before the conversation drifted further.

“Is it a choice between brief pain and lifelong suffering?”
“Miiilaady!”

Lena let out a dramatic sigh, clasped her hands, and prayed theatrically.

“Crown Prince, please show mercy and embrace our wild, headstrong lady with your boundless generosity.”