🔊 TTS Settings
~Chapter 09~
. The Woman Hidden Behind the Pen
“Your Highness, thank you for granting my request last night. I have urgent business and must leave early. I’ll contact you again soon. Until then, would you think about what you desire from me? I hope our night continues endlessly.”
The note Alice left was curt, but Karan’s smile deepened.
“It wasn’t a dream.”
Of course not.
The soft flesh that clung to his hands, the endless sighs spilling at his ear, the fragrance of her body, the supple legs that wrapped around his waist—everything was so vivid.
Karan pressed Alice’s note against his face and drew in a deep breath.
He didn’t want to miss even the faintest trace of her scent that lingered on the paper.
As Alice tapped at her sore waist, Regina entered.
“Everything is ready, my lady.”
Alice rose with a faint smile. A tingling ache shot from her tailbone up to her nape, and her brows furrowed.
“Are you hurt somewhere?”
Regina instantly noticed and stepped closer, but Alice raised a hand.
“I strained my back… in bed.”
“In bed?”
Strange words, yet not untrue. Alice recalled the night before.
Are all Titrisians like Karan?
He had tormented her endlessly through the night.
Though… it wasn’t only torment.
At the memory of nocturnal ecstasy, Alice’s cheeks flushed red.
She quickly fanned herself, wishing the breeze would blow away the memories along with the heat.
“They’ve all arrived early and are waiting for you, my lady.”
The butler informed her.
By then, Alice had regained composure and ordered the doors opened.
At her command, the butler’s eyes twitched.
So, you don’t like taking orders from me, is that it?
In the Warton viscountcy, Alice’s standing was miserable.
The servants didn’t openly show contempt, but as the daughter of a gypsy, they looked down on her.
And since the Viscount himself ignored her, the household naturally followed suit.
In the past, she had cowered under those gazes, watching their moods.
She even carried out tasks fit for maids herself—without realizing that made her scorned all the more.
Never again. I won’t live like that. I won’t let my friends suffer contempt because of me either.
“Open the door. What are you waiting for?”
Her icy words at the butler’s hesitation made him clear his throat and order the page beside him to do it.
“If a man can’t even open a door, what use is he in this house? Don’t you think?”
Alice’s gaze was cold as she entered the room.
Her upright, confident stride caught the butler’s eyes.
This wasn’t the timid Alice he knew.
Changed? Hmph. Probably just a moment’s bravado.
He dismissed the notion.
But watching how Alice hosted her guests soon after, he changed his mind.
Alice had changed. A storm might be brewing in the Warton household.
The butler was an opportunist, ever attuned to shifts around him.
And his instincts told him clearly now: he must treat Alice well.
“Welcome. Thank you for accepting such a sudden tea-party invitation.”
The drawing room where everyone gathered was Iris’s private salon.
Unlike Alice’s quarters, this place was bathed in sunlight and filled with furniture crafted by renowned artisans.
Tapestries hung on the walls, as delicate and vivid as a painter’s miniature.
And what stood out most were the vases scattered about, each holding golden flowers forged from pure gold.
It was a blatant display of the Warton household’s vanity.
All for show, no wonder they’re always in debt.
Alice smirked at the golden blooms, then quickly smoothed her expression.
“Well, I should thank you instead. I’ve been so curious about this room. Iris only shows it to her closest friends. I was expecting so much more, but… it’s rather underwhelming.”
Patricia, sharp-eyed and sly-mouthed, tilted her lips to the side.
She was one of Iris’s devotees.
Despite all her efforts, she had never been able to catch Iris’s eye.
Later, she would finally draw close to her—and the turning point had been Alice.
I had spoken ill of Alice, and Iris happened to hear it. That’s how she finally welcomed me in.
Unable to slander Alice directly, Patricia had been delighted to find someone to do it for her.
Thus Patricia became Iris’s confidante, the chief spreader of rumors and scandals about Alice.
And she doesn’t even know Iris once tried to poison her… In this life too, she’ll live the same way—just a tool for Iris. Pitiful.
Alice felt a twinge of sympathy, but only for a moment. Patricia was Iris’s creature, after all. She quickly pushed the feeling aside.
“Well, it may not live up to the hype, but it does have a refined taste.”
Alice let go of even that brief pity at Patricia’s remark.
“I’ll have tea prepared. And as promised, some coffee too.”
Coffee had only just begun to circulate in the Bedroka Kingdom.
In a land where tea was venerated, coffee was looked down upon as vulgar.
But as always, rarity bred value.
Serving coffee—still far from common—was a mark of distinction.
“Who cares for that filthy stuff?”
Patricia muttered, making Debois flinch.
Ah, Debois does like coffee. She’s always drawn to new things.
Indeed, Debois would one day open the kingdom’s first coffeehouse.
Though under her husband’s name, everyone knew the true connoisseur was her.
That would happen five years from now. At present, Debois had hardly tasted coffee properly.
“With fine beans, coffee can offer even more flavors than tea.”
Alice gestured to Regina.
Using the beans Regina brought, Alice personally brewed the coffee.
A rich aroma soon filled the room.
Unbelievably enticing, considering it came from something so bitter.
The others were equally captivated by the sight of Alice pouring with a slender-spouted kettle—an unfamiliar sight.
People claimed coffee could never delight eyes, nose, and mouth like tea, but when done right, it could indeed please them all.
Alice offered the first cup to Debois.
“Would you like to try?”
Debois accepted at once, peering at the black liquid uncertainly.
Unlike tea, clear and tinted in countless shades, coffee’s pitch blackness was off-putting.
But she hesitated only briefly before blowing gently to cool it and taking a sip.
Her eyes widened.
“It’s delicious! Sour, nutty….”
“Try again—you’ll catch a faint floral note this time.”
“Hmph, nonsense. From that sludge? Maybe a stench, not flowers.”
Patricia sneered under her breath. Debois glared at her.
The two were like oil and water.
Patricia, negative and prejudiced.
Debois, eager to shatter old prejudices.
Before they could clash, Alice drew Jasmine into the conversation.
“Why don’t you be the next to taste it, Jasmine?”
Flushed with pleasure at Alice’s attention, Jasmine’s plump cheeks turned rosy.
Jasmine Orléans.
By Bedroka’s beauty standards—epitomized by Iris—she fell far short.
Short, plump, and brown-skinned, she had always been scorned.
Bullied from youth, she grew timid, and thus endured even more disdain.
At every ball, Jasmine would shrink into the shadows.
But no one sees how clever she is. And she understands a woman’s wish to be beautiful better than anyone.
Later, Jasmine would start a cosmetics business.
Though it never gained wide acclaim, that wasn’t because her products were poor.
She simply lacked a model.
Without someone to showcase and promote them, her goods had languished.
Alice, however, knew well how vital presentation was.
After all, she had made Chase shine as the perfect monarch.
I’ll make Jasmine’s products sell like water—if she agrees to join me.
“Oh? It really is delicious! At first, just bitter—but now I taste the sourness, and yes, even a floral note!”
Jasmine’s eyes rounded in delight.
Seeing her agree, Patricia’s curiosity piqued. She too sipped, then pouted.
“Well… it’s drinkable, I suppose.”
Yet she drained two cups in quick succession.
It was the first time the four women gathered together, yet the conversation never lagged.
Thanks to Alice’s guidance—knowing each woman well—they bonded with ease.
When she felt their guard had softened, Alice broached her true subject.
“Have you heard of that gossip paper the maids read? It’s filled with such amusing tales. What was the name…?”
She trailed off, gauging their reactions.
“The Alleycat Times, I think.”
“Alleycat? What a peculiar name.”
Patricia responded instantly, and Jasmine added in a flat tone. Alice studied her carefully before continuing.
“The publisher hides behind a veil, but surely it’s just some inexperienced girl playing around. Sounds like she just makes things up from what she overhears.”
“And why do you think so? Oh—I’ve read it a few times myself. But I don’t agree with you, Alice.”
It was Debois who spoke.
“Their descriptions of men and women in… delicate moments, are clumsy. For example, in the recent scandal about the street singer and Baron Jenn—when describing their kiss, it said flower petals floated through the air. Now, if the writer had actually spoken with them, or even experienced a kiss herself, she’d know better. A kiss isn’t always so sweet, is it?”
“And how is it then?”
This time Jasmine asked, her eyes shining with curiosity as she hung on Alice’s every word.
Is Jasmine the publisher?
Alice’s eyes narrowed.
