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Chapter 57
Alright, keep your head straight. Tonight’s going to be intense.
To my left, the seat labeled “Prince’s Guest” was still empty. Charlier was already seated, keeping that same irritating attitude, though she looked a little tense.
“Lady Delphine, here’s your seat,” Paella said, pulling the chair out slightly for me.
I gave her a small nod of thanks and sat down.
The moment I did, Charlier spoke so only I could hear.
“Don’t embarrass yourself.”
“…?”
“Don’t act so submissive. These people gossip, and if they think the situation’s not in your favor, they’ll look down on you instantly.”
“These people?”
“The maids.”
Without changing her expression, Charlier kept her eyes forward. Her lips moved so little, it felt like she was doing ventriloquism.
“You might want to leave here on good terms, but the palace isn’t that kind. If you don’t step on others, you’ll get stepped on.”
“….”
“So don’t act small. I’m telling you this for your own good—because you seem way too easygoing.”
She straightened her back and sat with perfect posture.
What the heck? Just earlier she stole my crème brûlée and treated me like dirt, and now she’s acting like she’s giving me helpful advice?
I was so baffled I just ignored her.
The guest seats began to fill. Leo and Frederic arrived.
Frederic wore a pure white silk shirt with a navy vest, trousers, and jacket. His hair was neatly swept back, the clean style matching his sculpted looks perfectly.
Seriously. Still looking handsome even on a night like this.
His behavior earlier with Charlier still annoyed me, but considering he’d stayed shut in for six years, it was impressive he was dressed like this and participating in a royal event.
Leo’s outfit was the opposite— a nearly black dark shirt with ivory trousers and jacket. The dark shirt highlighted his bright blond hair and blue eyes.
Well… I can see why Delphine fell for him back then. He can pull off clothes that would look awful on most people.
When Frederic and Leo arrived, Charlier’s expression completely changed. The cold look she’d given me earlier vanished, replaced by a warm smile and a charming little eye crinkle.
Wow. Impressive, honestly.
I almost laughed out loud at how fast she switched.
When all the seats were filled except for the “Prince’s Guest” seats, a servant announced loudly,
“His Highness the Prince enters!”
All the guests stood. From the inner door, a tall man with long, model-like legs entered—Prince Alexander.
Silver hair with grayish-blue eyes… He’s got that icy, cold, heartless beauty down perfectly.
His gaze felt like it could pierce through everything, yet at the same time, like he didn’t care about anything at all. He gave the impression of a completely self-centered man—maybe even a little insane.
Alexander walked down the table, scanning it with satisfaction, and stopped at his seat, glancing at the servant.
The servant called out again,
“Lady Michaela Pavillon enters!”
Michaela Pavillon—daughter of the most powerful ducal house in the kingdom. She was Alexander’s fiancée, soon to be empress in a week.
All eyes went to her. She had red hair and reddish-brown eyes, with skin so pale it made her hair look even more vivid.
If Alexander was a cold, dangerous man, Michaela was a blazing, dangerous woman. Her eyes burned with the kind of wildness that made you think she’d cut your head off if you annoyed her.
In short, both of them were the type of people you’d rather not be near.
Wow. They actually suit each other… the cold madman and the hot-tempered madwoman. They should stay together forever and keep each other contained.
I kept my posture polite, but I blurred my focus just enough to avoid meeting either of their eyes.
Alexander sat first, then Michaela, and the guests followed.
Thirteen maids each poured wine for their assigned guest.
Alexander raised his glass and gave a welcome.
“Welcome to all who came from far away. By tradition, I invited eleven guests. Two of my own guests will arrive soon, but let us begin eating. I suggest greeting the person whose nameplate is in front of you.”
At his words, the guests exchanged cautious nods.
Then, one of the dukes raised his hand slightly.
“What is it?” Alexander asked.
The man stood. “Your Highness, I am Duke Martino from the city of Baritu. It is an honor to be invited to such a precious occasion.”
He looked to be in his mid-to-late fifties, formal and proper. Alexander made a small gesture for him to continue.
“I do have a question. By tradition, one representative from each of the eleven cities of the kingdom is invited. But tonight, only six cities are represented. Four guests are from Shyro, and you have two personal guests. Has there been a change in tradition?”
Duke Martino’s tone was polite yet firm. The whole room fell silent, waiting for Alexander’s answer.
“Ha! Hahahahaha!”
Still seated, Alexander suddenly burst into manic laughter. He laughed for nearly a minute, while the guests glanced nervously at one another.
Duke Martino’s expression didn’t waver—he had the face of a man who had lived his whole life by his own rules.
“Duke Martino, that’s an amusing question. You are a fine ruler—always following your rules, and Baritu has never missed its tax payments.”
“….”
Alexander’s smile vanished, replaced by a sharp glint of madness.
“But… if you like rules so much, you should follow them exactly. Five years ago, Baritu paid only half its taxes, remember? That year’s poor harvest—you even sent me a petition about it.”
His smile now looked like something dead.
“Let’s follow the rules, then. Pay the rest of the tax from five years ago, plus the fines and interest for the delay.”
Duke Martino’s face stiffened. Everyone knew the total would be enormous—almost two years’ worth of taxes, impossible to prepare in a short time.
Everyone also understood what this meant—Alexander was pushing Baritu toward bankruptcy. And there was only one way to save the city: for the Martino family to take the fall and collapse instead.
“….”
His hand trembled. He now had to choose between bankrupting his city or destroying his family.
Alexander noticed his shaking and smiled like he was enjoying himself.
“Servants, clear Duke Martino’s place. Duke, you must be busy preparing the payment. You may return to Baritu at once.”
His eyes were cold and dry like a dead fish’s.
The maid serving Martino hesitated, then quietly cleared the tableware.
The duke stared blankly at the now-empty space in front of him.
“Well? Why are you still here?”
Alexander clapped twice toward him, like shooing away an animal—deliberately insulting.
“….”
Martino stared at him one last time, then turned and left. No one dared say a word—anyone who spoke up risked the same fate.
—Creak.
Just as he was leaving, a woman entered.
“What’s this, Duke? Why are you leaving so soon?”
She wore a striking, tight-fitting red dress. Her hair was glossy black, decorated with a red feather, and her eyes were dark and bold.
Sophie Contir.
She was well-known in the palace—originally Michaela’s maid, she had gained Alexander’s favor and was now treated like a concubine.
Most in the palace looked down on her for her lack of family background, but no one said it to her face—Alexander protected her.
Michaela, however, despised her completely. Sophie’s red dress and feather—similar in color to Michaela’s hair—were a deliberate provocation.
Knowing Michaela’s feelings, Sophie ignored them and put on an innocent, harmless smile as she gave a small curtsey.
“I’m sorry for being late, Your Highness. I just wanted to look nice for you, and it took longer than I thought.”
She clicked her heels over to the empty “Prince’s Guest” seat beside me and sat down.
So she’s one of the prince’s guests…
Alexander’s face lit up like he was looking at a cute kitten, saying it was fine—completely hiding the madness he’d just shown to Duke Martino.
