Chapter 36
“Goodness! Really?”
At Lady Marmonde’s words, the other ladies who had been listening nearby let out small gasps.
All eyes turned toward Bellisa in surprise.
Among them were also looks that stared at her in outright shock.
After all, her firstborn son—wasn’t that the infamous Aryan von Matthias, the one rumored to be so hopelessly deficient that it was a shame for such a pretty face?
“Yes… thankfully, it’s true.”
Swallowing a bitter smile, Bellisa nodded shyly, forcing herself to look as happy as possible.
Her fingers tightened little by little around the folds of her softly gathered dress.
Whether she noticed or not, Lady Marmonde smiled benevolently and offered a polite, perfunctory congratulation.
“Isn’t this all thanks to your efforts, Madam? Congratulations.”
“Indeed, congratulations to you, Madam!”
Not a single one of them was offering congratulations sincerely.
Some were merely curious about how she had managed to secure that position, while others were already scheming darkly about whether they could form even the smallest connection now.
“Thank you.”
Knowing all this, Bellisa still stood at the center of the banquet, exchanging pleasantries as though she were the heroine of the evening.
If the one who had become Rashad were not Aryan—someone she wouldn’t have minded chewing up and swallowing on the spot—but her real son, Varga, she could have genuinely enjoyed this moment.
But reality granted her no such happiness, and every time she heard even the faintest positive word about Aryan, she had to struggle to calm the rot gnawing at her insides.
And when her patience finally reached its limit—
“Ah.”
At the edge of Bellisa’s vision appeared the very reason she had attended today’s party.
A man with ordinary brown hair, dressed in an unremarkable, cheap tailcoat, was walking toward the balcony in the farthest corner.
“May I step out for some fresh air?”
“Oh, yes, of course. Please do, Madam.”
After excusing herself from the gathered crowd, Bellisa moved toward the balcony next to the one the man had entered earlier.
Closing the door, she leaned against the wall closest to the adjacent balcony and, pretending to gaze idly up at the sky, whispered softly,
“…Are the preparations?”
“It will take a little more time.”
Almost as soon as her question fell, a voice sounded from beside her—one whose age and gender were hard to guess.
Bellisa’s face crumpled instantly at the reply.
She hissed in a low, agitated voice.
“Haven’t I given you more than enough already? This is because you’re dragging your feet!”
“I apologize.”
Despite the polite apology, Bellisa’s anger did not easily subside.
It felt as though everything was the fault of them and their careless handling of affairs.
Biting down on her lower lip, Bellisa warned them once more.
“This is the last time I let it slide. Next time, bring me proper results. Do you understand?”
“…Yes.”
“Go.”
With those words, there was no further reply.
As always, she knew they must have vanished without a trace.
Now completely alone, Bellisa stood there, staring at the moonlight trembling in the night sky.
Crack. The nail she had unconsciously brought to her mouth snapped with a strange sound.
A thin line of blood touched her lips, but Bellisa muttered as if nothing had happened,
“…I won’t let you take everything.”
Naturally, she couldn’t simply barge in and meet Aryan.
After Clarissa’s two incidents of illegal intrusion, the imperial palace gates had become even more secure, and Clarissa herself, driven by impatience, couldn’t bring herself to devise another scheme.
It had already been several days since she had swallowed her pride and gone to request permission from His Highness the Crown Prince to meet Aryan.
As expected, no word had come from the palace.
“That damned Crown Prince…”
Marie, who happened to overhear Clarissa muttering while hunched over her desk and furiously scribbling something, could only hiccup and roll her eyes nervously.
After all, Clarissa had been in a foul mood for days now, and provoking her even slightly seemed like a direct threat to one’s own safety.
“Aryan, if that Crown Prince bastard—no, His Highness the Crown Prince—makes you do anything cruel, have some candy—”
Whether Marie was terrified or not, Clarissa continued to fill the peach-colored paper with utmost seriousness.
But soon, apparently dissatisfied, she tore the page to shreds with an irritable expression.
The cost of all the paper Clarissa had destroyed by now was enough to pay Marie’s wages several times over.
Having already torn through dozens of sheets of artisan-made paper, Clarissa finally grabbed her head and slammed her forehead onto the desk.
“No, this isn’t it!”
Nothing she wrote felt right. To be precise, everything she wrote felt like it would be discarded before it ever reached Aryan.
And if she tried to write in code, Aryan wouldn’t understand it either.
Her favorite great writer once left behind the famous line, “To be or not to be, that is the question.”
But for Clarissa, the greatest dilemma at this moment was—
“How should I write it… that is the question…”
She muttered like a prince of some distant kingdom standing at the brink of life and death.
Unable to bear the sight any longer, Marie finally mustered her courage and spoke.
“Um… Lady Clarissa.”
At the quiet call, Clarissa barely turned her head, as though even answering required too much effort.
Her dull, lightless eyes flickered faintly.
The sight was eerie enough to make Marie shudder, but she forced herself to finish what she had started.
“If the problem is the letter you’re writing to Lord Aryan… wouldn’t it be easier to just go see him?”
“That’s exactly why I’m doing this—because I can’t.”
“Why not?”
At Marie’s genuinely puzzled question, Clarissa loosened a screw of her own sanity.
“…Marie, I must have bored you terribly, haven’t I? That must be it, right?”
Marie’s teeth chattered loudly.
She couldn’t tell whether it was autumn or winter, but a bone-chilling cold ran through her.
Still, staying silent would be the same as agreeing.
Biting her tongue, Marie reminded Clarissa of what she had overlooked.
“B-But next month is His Highness the Crown Prince’s fourteenth birthday banquet.”
Clarissa’s eyes widened. Her red lips parted slightly, like someone who had just realized something important.
Seizing the moment, Marie shattered Clarissa’s worries.
“The Marquis is the Chancellor of the Asgard Empire, so of course an invitation will arrive.”
“Marie, you’re a genius!”
Clarissa cried out in delight and wrapped her arms around Marie’s waist.
But soon, she muttered again with a face full of worry,
“Still… will Father take me with him?”
Clarissa’s concern was reasonable.
After what had happened right after Aryan’s so-called accident, Vestas had begun to watch Clarissa’s behavior far more closely.
And since she had already caused trouble at the imperial palace once, the chances of him personally taking her along were slim.
Just as her worries were reaching the heavens, the unusually competent Marie spoke up,
“When has he ever taken you with him, and you followed obediently?”
Indeed—those were words worthy of being spoken by Clarissa’s maid.
“His Imperial Highness, Crown Prince Adria von Gren Asgard, enters!”
Thunderous applause filled the hall.
The large doors atop the staircase swung open to either side, revealing the star of the day.
Neatly groomed jet-black hair, sharp, well-defined features, and red eyes that sparkled like rubies.
Now standing on the threshold between boyhood and youth, his appearance was more than enough to draw gasps from the crowd.
Just as everyone—young and old alike—was losing themselves in his looks—
“Rashad, Lord Aryan von Matthias enters.”
In a loud voice, the name of the man who would, without question, be the talk of the evening was announced.
Under the dazzling chandelier, his silver hair scattered with even greater brilliance.
The pale, youthful boy, though visibly tense, straightened his back and walked forward more confidently than ever.
Seeing him from afar, Clarissa unconsciously held her breath.
He’s gotten… a little taller.
His height, his face—everything looked just a bit more like that of a boy his age now.
“As expected, being in deeper waters really does you good.”
Right, Aryan?
