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Chapter 09
It was ridiculous enough that news of the Imperial marriage proposal had spread through the newspapers first like some cheap rumor sheet. But for an article about Minuet rejecting the illustrious Crown Prince to plaster every newsstand in the capital of Ivelia so soon after?
Griff, who found the whole situation amusing, asked with feigned innocence.
“Wasn’t the Imperial wedding described in more detail in those newspaper articles you all love than anything I know? Shouldn’t that be enough information? You seem awfully interested in someone else’s wedding.”
There wasn’t a man alive who didn’t know that he had been put up as a high-priced item on the Imperial marriage market.
That alone was enough to make his teeth grind.
And yet the papers were now loudly proclaiming that some lady he hadn’t even wanted was rejecting him.
Maintaining an excessively indifferent expression, Onyx lifted his whiskey glass. Being lumped together with that lady and gossiped about like this—just the article alone was humiliation enough.
“How is this someone else’s affair? We nobles are the Visk Empire, and the Empire is us! That makes it all our business.”
“Quite right. Absolutely.”
Murmurs of agreement drifted through the group.
“She’s a rare beauty, isn’t she? Be honest. Don’t you think so too?”
Encouraged by the men’s enthusiastic responses, Griff leaned toward Onyx with an excited grin.
Until the Crown Prince married, every noble lady in Ivelia admired Crown Prince Onyx. There was no man who could surpass this face—so perfect it looked as if a famous painter had devoted special care to capturing it. Since no one could win against him, it would be to everyone’s benefit to hand over Minuet LeVine—who hadn’t even been on the list.
Of course, that meant the immense wealth and prestige of Lady Minuet’s maternal family would be handed over wholesale to that infuriatingly handsome Crown Prince—but what of it?
After all, there was no house more suitable to become in-laws with the Imperial family than the House of LeVine.
The gentlemen who had no means of stealing that beauty from Onyx seemed to have unanimously decided that it would be better to erase both that handsome man and beautiful woman from the marriage market altogether.
Griff often crossed the line, but this time he had enough to stir public opinion.
“Indeed, Lady Minuet is truly beautiful.”
“A beauty like that is rare.”
Watching the men chime in one by one, Onyx naturally lifted his head and followed their gazes.
The LeVine lady was certainly beautiful.
Whether it was the elder sister or the younger, even Onyx could not deny that.
But beauty—so what?
A fleeting, unstable value that would fade with time.
As soon as they entered the ballroom, the LeVine sisters naturally walked among the ladies. Unlike the young debutantes who were just budding flowers, Minuet, in full bloom like a blossom at its peak, shone brilliantly even among the taller girls.
Truly, the Lily of the House of LeVine.
Though whether she fit the image of the refined, demure lily so often spoken of in society… well.
The Minuet he had encountered these past few days was anything but that.
A rose with thorns. Or perhaps a deep violet tibouchina.
As Onyx quietly observed Minuet at the end of Griff’s gaze, a sudden surge of irritation rose within him.
Was it because of that trifling beauty?
Or because she came from a house whose mother had been a princess, making the proposal from the Tourmaline Imperial Family seem beneath her?
The humiliating attitude she had displayed in the newspapers, her absurd behavior at the café…
Seeing her radiant among the ladies now, Onyx found her earlier willfulness suddenly understandable.
From a distance, Griff snickered with a sly expression as he watched Minuet mingle among the noblewomen.
“It’s not just her face. That neckline is absolutely killer.”
Onyx’s eyes followed Griff’s gaze naturally. For a fleeting moment, his attention dropped unconsciously from her pale neck down toward the line of her chest—then he realized that Griff’s gaze had not stopped at her neckline.
A low curse slipped from Onyx’s lips at Minuet’s reckless attire. Though she had not yet had her formal debut, Minuet was already a fully matured woman. Compared to the youthful outfits of the younger debutantes, it was perhaps only natural that her dress emphasized a more mature beauty.
Her attire was no different from that of any other noble lady her age, yet Onyx frowned.
And Griff’s blatant stare made his mood sour further.
“That’s enough, Griff.”
“Why? His Highness the Crown Prince must be pleased. It’s something to be grateful for—marrying into such a generous house—and with a body like that. Wow.”
“I said that’s enough.”
It was a debutante ball. The first one of the year, held by the Imperial family.
Since his mother’s death, Onyx had been hosting the debutantes in place of an Empress for several years.
Though it was a position that required restraint, the hand gripping his whiskey glass tightened.
“Cut it out, you madman.”
Voices began rising here and there to restrain Griff as he edged closer to crossing the line, but once he started talking, he didn’t stop.
“So what’s the LeVine family offering? Refilling the Imperial treasury nice and full again? Ah, I’m jealous.”
The Imperial crown had put a leash on Onyx, the mad dog who had once roamed free. The men who remembered him from his days as Grand Duke turned pale. Knowing that Aigen—who usually held that leash—had not yet arrived, they tugged at Griff’s shoulder in warning.
The tension left Onyx’s hand as he lightly swirled the whiskey in his glass.
It seemed time to remind Griff that the failure of his first marriage had been due to the vulgar nonsense that spilled from his mouth the moment he drank.
“Griff. Either increase your tolerance or quit drinking. You need to do one of the two.”
“What? What’s wrong with my tolerance?”
“At this rate, not only your first wife but your life itself may come to an early end.”
Even at Onyx’s final warning, Griff failed to catch the hint. Onyx stared blankly at his whiskey glass, a dry chuckle escaping him.
Did ill fortune follow him this year?
The pattern etched on the glass overlapped in his mind with the jewel pinned to that brazen lady’s dress.
“What a pity, Griff. Looks like you’ll have to give up your dream of taking a second wife at this year’s debutante.”
“Why are you bringing up my second marriage all of a sudden?”
Still holding the whiskey glass, Onyx’s fist shot forward and landed squarely in the center of Griff Hopper’s face.
“With a face like that, it’ll be difficult.”
“My, how shameless. If it were me, I wouldn’t even step outside.”
“I understand wanting to attend since she missed her own debut… but did you see the Blue Cicada article, Miss Regina?”
It was the debut they had waited their entire lives for.
And on the very day they had so eagerly anticipated, an unexpected rival appeared.
The finely dressed ladies cast displeased glances at their new competition.
And she was from the House of LeVine.
The Crown Prince might have been an unreachable tree, but that didn’t mean one couldn’t look up at it. In the hearts of every unmarried noble lady in Ivelia lay the vague fantasy that perhaps—just perhaps—they might catch the Crown Prince’s eye and become a Cinderella.
But just days before the debutante ball, sudden news of his marriage had broken.
And not Cecilia or Lilliane—but Minuet LeVine, of all people.
On top of that, she had the audacity to humiliate the Crown Prince daily with her unbecoming behavior.
Indeed, every interesting story lately had begun and ended with Minuet. Thanks to her, newspapers were breaking sales records day after day.
Unlike other papers that printed even wandering rumors in their hunger for scoops, the newspaper from the Sikeida Press—where the Blue Cicada’s articles appeared—was famous for never publishing falsehoods. Moreover, they were unmatched in uncovering exclusives before anyone else.
Naturally, the Sikeida paper was once again the most popular this time.
“My maid lined up before sunrise just to buy it today.”
“I read the Blue Cicada article too. It said her body was in such condition she might have died at any moment. And someone like that is supposed to bear Imperial heirs…?”
“That’s a serious flaw. What if this causes another issue with the line of succession?”
The ladies recited the Blue Cicada’s article nearly word for word as they discussed Minuet’s health.
Whether by unfortunate coincidence or curse, the Empresses of Visk had historically died young, one after another. And thanks to past Emperors who stubbornly refused to take second wives, the Imperial family had always suffered from a shortage of heirs.
Each generation had wrestled with succession issues—and now a frail young lady was being considered as Crown Princess from the start.
Even those who had declared the House of LeVine the ideal family to produce an Empress shook their heads at that.
“Hello, ladies.”
Lilliane appeared smiling among the group who had been busy tearing Minuet apart.
“You look beautiful today as well, Miss Lilliane.”
“You flatter me. All of you are dazzling too.”
Returning Regina’s compliment with proper courtesy, Lilliane introduced Minuet to the ladies.
“Have you all greeted my sister, Lady Minuet LeVine?”
At her words, the ladies who had been watching cautiously fumbled and glanced at Cecilia.
“It seems you all know so much about my sister already that my introduction isn’t necessary.”
“Pardon? Ah, well…”
“Weren’t you just now expressing concern for her?”
Sensing the hostility in Lilliane’s tone, the ladies instinctively withdrew.
“I was worried since this is her first time in society, but I must thank you all for showing such care. However, my sister is now healthier than any other young lady here.”
“Oh, I see. The newspapers expressed so much concern about her health that we were worried too.”
“Oh my, perhaps you should be more selective about what you read. It seems even the Blue Cicada is beginning to lose their touch…”
As Lilliane looked around at the ladies as if gently admonishing them, Isla Braise—who proudly called herself an ardent fan of the Blue Cicada—muttered in protest.
“Still, the Blue Cicada isn’t known to make things up…”
“Or else what?”
Isla Braise, who had boldly started to speak, trailed off under Lilliane’s force. Even if the debutante ball came every year, the ladies knew that this year was their turn—they had no desire to stir up further discord.
“Miss Lilliane. Surely you’re not intending to cause a disturbance at the debutante? That would damage not only your reputation, but ours as well.”
