NRAL | Chapter 47

~Chapter 47~ 

Drenched in Wine

Eleanor completely ignored the look Nora desperately gave her and turned her head away, scanning the room.

“…I believe that, as nobles, we must take responsibility for our actions. It’s childish to accept all the gifts and then pretend to know nothing. But as you know, Nora isn’t yet familiar with noble customs. She probably didn’t even realize what the ruby necklace truly signified. She simply made a mistake out of ignorance, so I kindly ask for your understanding. I apologize on her behalf for causing a scene and bringing shame upon both Lord Cunningham and Lady Kiara.”

Eleanor spoke in a calm tone, not raising or lowering her voice dramatically. Her composed demeanor stood in stark contrast to Nora’s earlier outburst and came across as even more refined. The way she defended Nora, someone practically her enemy, and apologized for her showed maturity and left a good impression on the nobles.

As expected of someone who was once the brightest star of the juvenile, and a strong candidate to be the next empress. Older nobles looked on with regret, thinking how unfortunate it was that the imperial family had lost such talent.

Meanwhile, Lord Cunningham jumped in the moment Eleanor spoke in his defense, quickly asserting his innocence.

“Exactly! This was simply a small incident caused by Lady Nora’s foolish mistake. But in the future, she really must stop seducing engaged men and begging them for gifts. We don’t want more victims like me!”

He didn’t hesitate for a second to bring down a woman he once liked with a lie.

His motive for speaking so loudly was to portray himself as the blameless victim. But unfortunately, his outburst triggered something he hadn’t expected.

It turned out that his fiancée was far more aggressive and impulsive than he thought.

“I knew it! You shameless wench!”

The moment the viscount finished his statement, Kiara charged at Nora like an angry bull.

Unlike Nora, who had slapped Eleanor earlier, Kiara didn’t intend to hit her with her hands. Physical violence, after all, was beneath nobles—that was for commoners.

Instead, Kiara chose a far more “noble” method of revenge.

“How dare you lay your hands on my Timothy?!”

With a sharp, furious voice, she flung a glass of red wine straight at Nora without a second of hesitation.

SPLASH—!

The white, spotless dress—symbol of a debutante ball’s leading lady—was quickly soaked in red wine.

“–Ah.”

Nora let out a soft gasp as she stared blankly at her dress.

She couldn’t hear the murmurs from the crowd, Arlo’s angry voice as he regained his senses, or Kiara shouting as she was dragged out by the viscount. It all felt like time had stopped.

But even in this dreadful moment, time continued to pass, and the blood-red stain only spread further and deeper.

Drip, drip. Red droplets slid down her pale legs, staining her feet. Only then did Nora truly comprehend what had happened to her.

She had been drenched in wine.

‘And on my own debutante ball, no less.’

It felt like a string in her mind had snapped. She wanted to scream like a madwoman and run out of the hall. Or maybe yank Eleanor’s and Kiara’s hair out by the roots.

But Nora barely managed to hold on to the last bit of her self-control.

She had lost. Yes, she had lost to Eleanor today. As much as she hated to admit it, that was the truth.

Still, at the very least, she could choose how she left this place—either throwing a tantrum and storming out in disgrace or walking out with dignity, holding her head high. To someday repay this humiliation, she chose the latter.

The moment she made her decision, the trembling in her body ceased.

“Arlo, I’m not feeling well. I think I should return to my room. Would you be so kind as to escort me?”

She wanted desperately to voice her frustrations, but she held back. She knew that no matter what she said now, it would only sound like pathetic excuses.

Her face pale, Nora asked Arlo for help. He hesitated for a moment, caught in fierce internal conflict.

Honestly, he wanted to make up an excuse and have another servant take her. He didn’t want to escort Nora, especially after she had just embarrassed herself with her clumsy manipulations. More than anything, he wanted to talk to Eleanor.

But if he left Nora now, her reputation—already shattered—would fall even further, perhaps causing a crack between the imperial family and the Duchy of Astria. The Duke of Astria would surely be furious.

After all, Nora was still his fiancée.

‘A pity… but there will be other chances.’

Arlo bit the inside of his lip hard, then reluctantly held out his arm to Nora. She placed her hand on it, forcing her trembling body to stand tall as she walked across the ballroom with her back straight.

And with that, the main characters left the ballroom, leaving only the guests behind.

As the flustered nobles exchanged glances, Eleanor clapped her hands lightly to draw their attention.

“Young men getting heated up and causing a commotion—it happens at every party, doesn’t it?”

With a gentle smile and her long eyes elegantly curved, Eleanor’s remark drew chuckles from the guests.

The social ranks of those involved in a commotion made it hard to brush off the incident as trivial, but as she said, young nobles often acted recklessly, overcome by emotion. Thinking of it that way, it felt like something that could be laughed off.

“We can’t waste any more of our precious guests’ time. So why don’t we start the party again?”

As Eleanor waved her hand, the musicians who had been hesitantly waiting began playing in time with the music.

When the lively dance music filled Violet Hall, Eleanor took the lead and walked to the center.

Originally, the first dance should have been between Nora and Arlo, the stars of the debutante ball. But with both absent, Eleanor was the only one left to lead the event. The only problem—she didn’t have a partner.

Male nobles who had come without dates began approaching her with barely hidden excitement. With jealous Arlo gone, this was a rare chance they wouldn’t get again.

Even if Arlo had been there, they might not have cared. Eleanor was no longer his fiancée, and a woman that beautiful was worth any risk.

As four or five men stepped forward, fueled by rivalry, Eleanor stared off toward a certain spot, as if waiting for someone.

In fact, she had already noticed him earlier.

There, in a corner of the ballroom where no one was paying attention—beside a tall pillar—stood a man with a huge frame, silently watching her.

The man, Karsian Royster, had stood there like a tree planted in the ground. When Nora slapped Eleanor’s hand away, he looked as though he had been struck himself, radiating a threatening aura. Just like when he’d intimidated Fletcher Beck—he looked ready to storm in and grab Nora by the neck.

He hadn’t done anything else noticeable. Just stood there quietly.

And yet, for some reason, his presence alone gave Eleanor an odd sense of strength. Like there was at least one person in the hall on her side.

‘To think I’d feel this way about the Duke of Royster.’

Eleanor smiled faintly, surprised by her own reaction.

What was even more surprising was that Duke Royster had started walking toward her, leaving the pillar behind—striding confidently, eyes fixed only on her, unaffected by the stares around him.

People gasped and made way without thinking. No one had imagined the Duke would attend the Archduchess of Astria’s debutante ball, and now their mouths hung open.

The men who had hoped to dance with Eleanor quickly backed away, looking up at the imposing figure.

And finally, with everyone watching, he stopped in front of Eleanor and slowly held out his hand.

“Lady Eleanor.”

She spotted the same black gloves he had worn at the masquerade and let out a small laugh.

“May I have the honor of this dance with you?”

It was a simple dance invitation—but to her, it had never felt more powerful.

***

The lively music filled Violet Hall, setting the mood perfectly.

Cardiff’s nobles twirled gracefully across the floor to the elegant melody. But their thoughts weren’t on their partners. Every eye in the room was focused on just one pair: Eleanor and Karsian.

Has Karsian Royster ever danced with anyone in public before?

Everyone searched their memories—but the answer was no.

The Iron-Blooded Duke had never danced with a woman. He had never asked a lady to dance, nor accepted an invitation offered to him.

Even at royal banquets, he always kept to the walls. So much so that rumors had spread about him being interested in men.

But today, in this moment, that rumor was thoroughly disproved.

Not just because he was dancing with a woman. But because—he and Eleanor looked breathtaking together.

Karsian, who normally wore plain clothing, was now dressed more splendidly than most nobles. With a black vest embroidered in gold and a golden brooch, he almost looked like he had coordinated outfits with Eleanor, whose dress gleamed in matching gold.

It was actually the work of Madame Corcos, who had orchestrated the look without their knowledge. But to the nobles, it felt like fate.

“Oh my, don’t they just look perfect together?”

“I never imagined such a pair, but… there’s no denying how beautiful they are.”

Nobles gasped in admiration, claiming they’d never seen a couple so perfectly matched.

In their minds, the image of the Crown Prince and his future wife had already been forgotten. This pair—Eleanor and Karsian—was far more exciting and fresh.

And Eleanor herself was equally stunned by Karsian’s appearance.

I knew he was handsome, but still…

It was impossible not to notice. But before, the tension between their social and political positions had made it easy to overlook. Now that they had chosen to put that aside, she saw his face clearly—and it was dazzlingly beautiful.

Eleanor was not someone who put much value on looks. Being around Arlo so often had made her indifferent to good-looking men.

But somehow, when she looked at him, she finally understood why people worshipped beauty. For the first time—she got it.