SMTD 05

Chapter 5 …

“Mother, please…!”

“Are you trying to embarrass me here? Just try it, Elena. Do you think I’d leave Leana alone if you did?”

“She’s your daughter too, Mother!”

Elena cried out in a sharp, trembling voice.

“So what? What can she possibly do for me?”

Cécile stared at Elena with a blank, unfeeling face. There was not a trace of maternal affection left. She hadn’t always been this cold—at least not when Elena was younger.

“She’s nothing but a money-draining ghost, Elena. How many times have I told you we should just get rid of her?”

“Mother…!”

“If you walk out of here now, I’ll throw Leana out. No matter how shabby that house is, it’s still under my name.”

Elena’s eyes shook.

She might have been able to survive somehow, but Leana needed that house—a roof to keep out the wind and rain. She was only six years old. A sweet little girl who, when tired, would gently grasp Elena’s fingertips. Her only comfort, still smelling like a baby.

The leash that bound Elena had always been Leana. Tiny and frail, her little sister had barely been allowed to breathe since the day she was born.

In the end, unable to defy Cécile, Elena was once again thrown back under the bright chandelier.

“Maxim, want to make a bet?”

“What kind of bet?”

Camellia, who had been lounging on the sofa with a bored expression, straightened her posture. The conversation passing between Kales and Maxim had caught her interest.

“That woman. She’s clearly the star of the evening.”

Camellia lifted her fan and pointed at Elena, who was dancing with one man after another without a single smile. Maxim turned his gaze back to her. Every time Elena’s dress fluttered, men with flushed eyes swarmed around her like moths to a flame.

It was obvious that her mother, desperate to sell her off, had chosen such a revealing dress.

“The bet is that Maxim dances with that woman.”

Kales continued in a flat tone.

“Why should I?”

It was a boring, meaningless bet. Maxim was just about to turn away, uninterested.

“Aren’t you curious about your aunt’s reaction?”

Kales snickered.

“She might rather give up on your marriage altogether than let you marry a woman like that.”

Maxim frowned. He didn’t like everything his aunt did, but this kind of mockery was unnecessary.

Kales, however, was quicker to speak than Maxim.

“And besides, wouldn’t that woman’s value go up? We’re talking about the great Maxim here. How many ladies here have dolled themselves up just for a chance to hold your hand?”

Maxim muttered irritably.

“This is childish.”

“Why not think of it as an act of charity? Look at the kind of men drooling over that poor woman. Aren’t most of them old enough to be our fathers?”

For some reason, Camellia joined in, egging him on. It wasn’t out of genuine pity for Elena—there was clearly some other interest or intent behind her words.

Maxim slowly rose to his feet.

Kales’ eyes widened; he hadn’t expected Maxim to actually do it.

“You’re seriously going to?”

Maxim gripped Kales’ shoulder hard enough to make him wince.

“Ugh! Maxim!”

“No matter how gracious my aunt may be to everyone, she’s not someone to be gossiped about like that. Right? She’s Her Highness the Princess, after all.”

Maxim said with a chilling smile.

“Be careful, Kales. You never know who might be listening.”

Kales clutched his shoulder, scowling. Annoying bastard.

As Maxim walked away, Camellia narrowed her eyes, watching his back. Kales plopped down into Maxim’s seat with exaggerated gestures.

“Did you see that? Even the great Maxim gets interested when a pretty girl’s involved.”

His eyes quickly flicked to observe Camellia’s reaction. She pursed her lips in a sneer before leaning back on the sofa again.

Maxim was the man who always got the best of everything. After his business had taken off, that had only become more pronounced. His discerning eye had led his department store empire to one booming success after another. Was there anyone in the Empire richer than Maxim?

A man like that… with a cheap woman like her? Impossible.

Camellia’s eyes sharpened like a cat’s. Her face remained calm, as if nothing had happened.

But the hand holding her glass trembled slightly. Kales sighed shortly as he watched her.

Elena flitted from man to man, dancing without rest. She hadn’t realized there were so many male nobles in Rebunto—or that so many were either lifelong bachelors or widowers.

Bear me a child.
Become the mother of my child.

Their words replayed in her head. Elena wiped her flushed face with a trembling hand.

Her legs were swollen and aching to the point of collapse by the time she finally escaped toward the tables to rest. The attention she received was divided into two clear categories:

The first: greed.
Mostly from the men.

The second: envy, jealousy, or contempt.
Mostly from noblewomen and young ladies.

Wherever Elena went, people moved aside to make way, avoiding her as if she were some pest. The whispers reached her ears clearly.

“Don’t go near her, Jacey. You’ll look cheap too.”

Cheap.

Elena bit her lip hard.

Her shoulders trembled with humiliation. She had never done anything disgraceful in her life—yet unbelievably, it was her own mother who had thrown her into this pit.

There wasn’t a single ally here. Strangers judged her entirely by her clothes, their assumptions swift and cruel. She was tired. Sleepy. She wanted to go home and hold Leana’s tiny hand as they slept.

Maybe I should run away.

Taking Leana and fleeing might be the better choice. Cécile’s greed had no limits. At this rate, she really might be sold off to some much older man. No—would be. Her mother was fully capable of it.

Cécile seemed to be negotiating Elena’s “price” with a group of noblewomen. Around them, the men who had danced with Elena hovered eagerly.

Offers were made. Prices were discussed.

It was like a scene from a market. Elena might as well have been a mare up for auction at a horse fair.

She let out a hollow laugh.

As she tilted her head back to stare blankly at the chandelier, another man approached—apparently even this brief respite wasn’t allowed.

“My lady.”

The voice was smooth and rich. Low, but resonant, like coffee with a generous layer of cream. Elena frowned slightly and lowered her gaze.

It’s him.

The man who had shown her kindness a week ago.

Dark hair fell freely around a pair of deep green eyes. It wasn’t until she had fled home from the carriage that Elena realized she hadn’t even thanked him properly. She hadn’t expected to see him again like this.

He must have been on his way to Rebunto for Countess Presto’s birthday ball as well. Of all the men who had asked her to dance tonight, he was the youngest and the most handsome.

Of course he was—up until now, she’d only been dealing with older, desperate men eager to buy a healthy young bride.

Startled, Elena pointed at herself.

“M-me?”

This man could draw women’s attention without even trying. Why would he extend his hand to her? She swallowed nervously and looked around. There wasn’t another “lady” in sight—everyone had fled from her.

“Who else here could I possibly mean?”

The man’s lips curled into a charming smile.

The soft laugh that followed drew her gaze in even further.

“Why me…?”

“In a place like this, there’s only one reason a gentleman offers his hand to a lady.”

He slowly bent down, lifted her pale hand, and brushed his lips lightly across the back of it.

“D-dance? You mean, dance with me?”

Elena craned her neck like a startled deer. Why him? Before she could react, the man pulled her toward him.

“You won’t regret it.”

Regret what?

Before she could even ask, he led her firmly onto the dance floor. His hand wrapped gently around her waist—a stark contrast to the clumsy, groping hands of her previous partners. He took her hand.

Just as Elena hesitated, the music resumed.

It was a familiar waltz.