TQV 07

Chapter 7

All the preparations to attend the palace party were complete. A custom outfit had even been specially made by the famous designer Thierry Roesto.

During party season, his rates skyrocketed, making him difficult to book. But thanks to the fact that his boutique was located in Portua District 3—an area managed by Killian—they were able to bring him in.

“Madam, just a moment.”

Maid Suzanne lifted Emily’s skirt slightly and pulled a dagger from her thigh. Without hesitation, she threw it—whoosh—and the blade split a mosquito clean in half, pinning it to the wall.

“A-Amazing…”

Emily instinctively stood and clapped her hands.

“If a mosquito bites your face after all that work on your makeup, it’d be a disaster.”

Suzanne replied nonchalantly, as if it were no big deal.

“Mm, right…”

By now, the attendants of House Star no longer hid their skills in front of Emily.

And Emily, for her part, was doing her best to adapt to them. Sensing her tension, Johan stepped forward and gave her a hug.

“Emily is our princess—we have to protect her. So you’ll need to get used to us.”

Emily would later find out that Johan was also the son of a mafia boss and a genius with a peculiar interest in various poisonous herbs. The Star Family had made quite useful applications of the poisonous darts he had invented.

“Yes, please do protect me well.”

Emily earnestly asked even young Johan for protection. The more people who could protect her, the better.

“It’s time, Madam.”

From outside the door, Albin called out, knocking lightly.

“Emily, have a safe trip.”

Johan bid her farewell and handed her a fan and a small mysterious vial. Emily smiled with satisfaction as she looked at the vial.

“Thank you. I’ll see you after.”

Wearing her new dress, Emily stepped out of her room with a fluttering heart and descended the stairs. Waiting to escort her stood Killian.

Today, she wore a blue dress that draped naturally along her figure. It was elegant and simple—perfect for Emily’s tall and slender frame.

To complement the minimalist design, a necklace of 27 emerald drops and diamonds, crafted using azur techniques, graced her neck and enhanced her beauty.

Killian wore a matching blue-toned outfit embroidered with gold thread. His perfectly tailored suit showcased his broad shoulders and upright back.

It was the brightest outfit he’d ever worn in his life, but as always, his striking face and physique pulled it off effortlessly.

For several seconds, Killian and Emily simply stood there, wordlessly taking each other in.

The only anxious person was the coachman, whose duty was to ensure timely arrival.

With an awkward cough from the side, the two came back to their senses and climbed into the carriage. Though it wasn’t their first time riding together, today, for some reason, it felt difficult to meet each other’s eyes.

When they arrived at the palace, all eyes turned toward the entrance at the announcement of the arrival of the Star couple—newly risen nobles of mafia origin.

They were the hot topic of the otherwise dull social season.

One would think Emily might be flustered by the attention the moment they entered the grand hall, but Killian, seemingly indifferent—or simply too used to such stares—merely gave the crowd a glance with unreadable eyes.

Thanks to his composed demeanor, Emily managed to enter the room with poise.

People swallowed nervously as they watched Killian, with his tall build and commanding aura. He was a marquis—title acquired or not—and most of all, he was a mafioso known to kill like he was hunting prey.

In front of such a terrifying figure, no one dared to call him “not a real noble” or “uncouth.”

Just then, the boldest among them, Baron Bechurel, approached to greet them.

Killian operated a gambling house called Delina House, which had a private section exclusively for VIP clients and regulars.

These were known as “club members,” and Baron Bechurel was eager to join their ranks—after all, the most precious intel circulated in that room.

“Good evening, Marquis Star, and Madam. I am Powell Bechurel.”

He had visited Delina House several times already.

He wondered if Killian would remember him, but seeing the lack of reaction, he concluded that Killian probably didn’t even know where the Bechurel estate was.

“Never heard of it.”

Just as expected. The baron wasn’t even disappointed.

“As you’d expect. It’s tucked away in a remote corner. Hardly counts as nobility.”

Powell tried to humble himself as much as possible, hoping to earn Killian’s favor, but Killian remained unmoved.

“So, what do you want?”

Killian categorized people who approached him into two types: those who wanted something, or those trying to stab him in the back.

The baron, who looked more like a bumbling bear, didn’t seem the backstabbing type.

Still, Killian’s blunt question caught Bechurel off guard.

“I—I just want to be friends.”

That wasn’t how he’d hoped to start the conversation.

“……”

When Killian offered no reply, Emily, feeling sorry for the man, stepped in.

“Baron Bechurel, it was a pleasure meeting you. If House Star ever hosts a party, we’ll send you an invitation.”

Of course, there was no way House Star would ever throw a party. Emily had no intention of creating an event that could bring strangers—and possibly spies—into their home.

“Thank you, thank you.”

Unaware of Emily’s true thoughts, the poor baron bowed awkwardly and left.

He was simply relieved to end the disastrous conversation and make his exit. He figured he could bring up the club membership again if invited to one of Emily’s future parties.

“Oh no…”

Emily, watching the baron leave, spotted a group in the distance—people who used to idolize and follow her in the past.

“I’m just going to step out to the lounge for a moment.”

She backed away until she was out of their sight, then turned and headed toward the lounge.

She had thought she was fine, but the once-popular Emily clearly wasn’t ready to face those people yet.

Meanwhile, the star of the party, Lucius—the crown prince of Bansent—was far from the polished image he was expected to uphold.

During his studies in Robert, he was famous for his messy, unkempt hair, his habit of leaving buttons undone, and his lazily tied cravat.

Though he looked like royalty, he lived by his own rules. He was a natural-born rebel, exuding danger and mystery. And fans loved him for it.

Of course, it only worked because of his good looks. Most people who copied his style just ended up looking like drunken hobos.

In short, Crown Prince Lucius wasn’t just a bad boy—he was a handsome bad boy with eyes full of sorrow. That lethal combo tugged at the hearts of countless women.

Regardless, the pressure from his parents and the public weighed on his free spirit. On the first day of the party, after a fight with his mother the empress, Lucius had spent the afternoon drinking heavily.

He had begged her not to hold such a grand welcome party, but she had ignored him as always. Drunk and staggering up the final steps to the ballroom, he suddenly lost his balance.

“Are you all right?”

Someone caught him by the arm just in time. Embarrassed at being seen in such a state, he tried to move away, glancing over without much thought—and froze.

Standing before him was a vision straight out of a novel: Lucius’s dream woman, in the flesh.

“Um, hello?”

Emily waited for a response from the gentleman before her, but heard nothing.

Looking puzzled, she gave him a small, awkward nod and continued on toward the lounge.

Lucius could only stare at her retreating figure, unable to stop her.

“Who is that lady?”

Her charming gestures, flushed cheeks, and gentle expression made his heart race.

Thinking he had made a terrible first impression, Lucius sobered up quickly and rushed back to the Crown Prince’s Palace to get properly dressed.

He even felt a little guilty for snapping at his mother that morning.

Meanwhile, having left the strange young man behind, Emily arrived at the lounge—only to open the door and immediately shut it again.

Someone she should never have seen was inside.

“Emily, come in.”