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Chapter 19
“Sir Brigitte, it’s a pleasure to meet you. I visited Fene on my honeymoon thirty years ago.”
“Is that so? It’s an honor to know that Fene holds a place in your memories. I’m delighted to meet you as well.”
When the Fene delegation entered the ballroom alongside Claude, the nobles hurried over to make their appearances.
Brigitte, the head of the delegation, showed no sign of discomfort despite the crowd. With calm composure, he made eye contact with each person and greeted them one by one.
He embodied the quintessential features of a Fene native.
A towering height and robust build like an old tree, large bones and defined features—such were the trademarks of the Fene Empire.
Brigitte stood even taller than his fellow delegates. His chiseled jawline gave him an even more striking appearance.
He might’ve come across as intimidating, but his soft lavender hair, reminiscent of violets, fell gently to his shoulders, giving him a gentler impression.
His eyes, uniquely holding both green and yellow hues, were especially striking.
The upper part was green, the lower part yellow—distinct yet harmonized, giving them a mystical quality.
With Brigitte’s appearance, the party stirred with excitement. Standing beside him, Claude took the opportunity to introduce his acquaintances.
“This is my longtime friend and the captain of the Imperial Guard—”
“Brother!”
From behind Rai’s broad back, Julian suddenly jumped out like a rabbit.
“Julian? What are you doing here? When did you arrive?”
Claude was clearly caught off guard, but quickly delighted at the unexpected reunion with his younger sister.
“I got here a little while ago. I was hiding behind Rai to surprise you. Were you surprised?”
“I was. Are you feeling better now?”
“Yeah, I’m much better.”
The two siblings, reunited after some time, exchanged warm greetings, gazing into each other’s similarly blue eyes.
Their silver hair and shared aura made it obvious to Iva that they were indeed siblings.
“Oh right, Sir Brigitte, I nearly forgot to introduce someone. This is my younger sister, Julian Begen Elihu, Princess of the Empire.”
“A pleasure, Sir Brigitte. Welcome to the Begen Agei Empire.”
Julian greeted Brigitte with a bright smile and held out her hand for a kiss.
Gasp. What is she doing?! Iva was so shocked she almost slapped the hand away.
Receiving a kiss on the back of the hand from a princess was a great honor.
However, Brigitte was the head of a delegation sent in place of the Fene Emperor. Treating him like a subordinate was a breach of etiquette.
Not only Claude and Chase, but even the nearby nobles stared at Julian’s hand with startled expressions.
Just then—
“Oh my, Princess Julian. Are you offering the traditional greeting from the Grace region?”
Iva approached with a wink and stood beside Julian. All eyes shifted from the princess to Iva.
“In Grace, people greet each other by tapping the backs of their hands twice. You must still have the habit from your time there.”
“What? I….”
“Unique greetings are lovely, but perhaps it’s better to use a more familiar one today. After all, this is Sir Brigitte’s first time in Begen Agei, Princess.”
Iva subtly emphasized the word “Princess,” implying that Julian should behave accordingly. She wasn’t about to let the princess ruin the carefully planned party from the very start.
Iva mirrored Julian’s bright smile. For a moment, Julian’s expression hardened—but she quickly returned to her usual demeanor.
The moment was so brief, and the crowd so unreactive, that Iva wondered if she had imagined it.
“…I suppose old habits slipped out. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Sir Brigitte.”
Julian turned the offered hand upward and offered a proper handshake to show she meant no offense.
“The pleasure is mine, Your Highness.”
With the handshake, the tension eased. Iva quietly let out a huge breath of relief.
“This is my longtime friend and Captain of the Royal Guard.”
“Nice to meet you. I’m Rai Castro.”
“I’ve heard much about you. They call you the Black Wolf of the battlefield. You seem like someone who could subdue an enemy with your presence alone.”
“You flatter me.”
“To have such a strong companion as your guard and friend must be reassuring, Your Highness.”
“He’s always been a dependable friend.”
Rai didn’t immediately take Brigitte’s hand when it was offered. Instead, he looked at it for a brief moment.
Even in that short time, the sharpness of Rai’s gaze was enough to pierce.
Startled, Brigitte flinched ever so slightly but maintained a composed expression.
After that brief mental battle, Rai finally raised his hand and shook Brigitte’s.
“Oh! As expected from a knight commander—what a strong grip!”
“Ah, my apologies.”
He quickly let go, realizing he had gripped too tightly—but his face remained stern.
‘Such beautiful red hair…’
Rai had seen Brigitte catch Iva when she tripped earlier from afar.
Recalling the moment Brigitte’s hand touched her shoulder made him tense up.
It was part jealousy toward Brigitte—but also frustration toward himself for not being able to step forward.
“Rai, is something wrong?”
Claude noticed his tense expression and asked quietly. Rai finally relaxed his face.
“No, nothing.”
“This party is important, even if it’s uncomfortable. Stay focused.”
“Understood.”
Claude patted Rai on the shoulder a few times and walked ahead.
Brigitte glanced sideways at Rai before following Claude.
“Please, allow me to escort you to your seats.”
Once the delegation was seated at the place Chase had prepared, the long-anticipated performance began.
* * *
“Hahaha! I’ve visited many empires, but I’ve never laughed this much at a party.”
“His Highness told us to expect a great event—he wasn’t exaggerating.”
“I agree. This is a party I’ll remember above all others.”
The delegation offered generous praise through hearty laughter.
“Hearing that makes me happy as well.”
Claude replied with a smile—and subtly clenched his fist behind his back.
It was a signal to Iva, who stood at a distance: the reactions aren’t good enough.
“Ugh, again?”
Iva puffed her cheeks in frustration. It was the same signal he’d already given her several times.
Everyone at the party was captivated by the magician she’d brought.
He pulled rabbits from hats, turned burning strings into roses—classic tricks, but they were fresh entertainment in this era.
When he guessed the card picked by a delegate, the crowd erupted into applause.
Yet the reaction Claude deemed lacking was because of one man—Brigitte Taylor. His response was faint.
With only the faintest smile, Brigitte watched the magic show with disinterested eyes.
“What is he, a robot? Why won’t he laugh?”
“Boss, what’s a robot?”
“Nothing, Pell. Go refill the delegation’s wineglasses.”
“Yes! Leave it to me!”
Even as Pell eagerly refilled Brigitte’s glass every time it emptied, his stoic demeanor didn’t change.
“And that was the magician, Jayden!”
As the magician bowed, the applause was long and loud.
But Brigitte still clapped lightly with a blank face.
“Hah? Still no reaction? Fine, let’s see how you handle this. Pell, let’s get ready for the next part!”
“Yes!”
Operation: Make Brigitte Laugh. If sights couldn’t do it, words would.
Iva signaled to Chase, who immediately understood and announced the next activity.
“Everyone, please check the back of the brooch you received upon entry!”
Guests looked puzzled but began checking their brooches.
Each one had the title of a famous song from the Begen Agei Empire written on it.
There were seven songs—one for each member of the delegation.
“Please group yourselves according to the matching song titles.”
This way, each delegate would be surrounded by a group of six or seven nobles for conversation.
Though confused at first, everyone soon began to look around with excited curiosity, wondering who they’d be matched with.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
“Likewise. It’s been a while since we’ve spoken.”
Once grouped, conversations flowed naturally. As expected of seasoned socialites, they engaged with ease.
“Those with green handkerchiefs, please come this way.”
To prevent people from only talking to the same individuals, groupings changed every ten minutes based on handkerchief colors or clothing types.
Those who wanted more personal conversation stepped away from the group on their own.
Iva stood slightly apart, monitoring the crowd when a small commotion broke out nearby.
“Wh-what are you doing?!”
“What do you mean? I was just being kind and fixing your loose strand of hair. What a delicate, beautiful hand you have.”
“Please… please let go.”
“What? I didn’t do anything. You wanted to talk to me too, didn’t you?”
A man was touching a young lady’s hand and ear under the guise of polite conversation, pretending innocence.
“There’s always one creep…”
Iva was about to signal one of the staff to intervene when something clicked.
“That bulging belly looks familiar…”
The ill-fitting blouse, the strained buttons—very familiar.
And that flushed face, red from too much wine—
“Wait… wolf mask?!”
It was the same man who’d caused trouble at Madame Shane’s masquerade party. A nobleman’s son—no wonder he had an invitation.
His name hadn’t registered on the guest list.
He seemed to deliberately target kind, timid noble ladies who wouldn’t push him away.
“Leaky pots leak everywhere. Not at my party.”
Iva immediately dispatched a male knight who had helped with the event.
The wolf-masked man, who had been looming over the young lady, backed off the moment the knight approached.
“A guilty conscience shows. Tsk.”
Just as Iva clicked her tongue at the typical bully behavior, their eyes met.
“Huh?”
Catching her gaze, the wolf-man broke into what he probably thought was a charming smile and started walking toward her.
But to Iva, it wasn’t charming—it was sour.
Why is he coming here? Go away! Everything goes wrong when you show up. Shoo!
“Good evening, Lady Iva. I’m the Buttery Earl.”
He finally stood before her and greeted her—still not officially a count, but full of pompous bravado.
And a piece of fruit peel was stuck between his teeth.
