CHAPTER 34
A week had passed since Kayen’s birthday.
Surprisingly, nothing significant had happened during that time. At first, Ethisha had worried that Dité might have witnessed the symptoms of her quama illness, but thankfully, it seemed she hadn’t seen anything.
“Thank goodness it wasn’t discovered. That could’ve turned into a disaster.”
If Dité had opened the banquet hall door just a moment earlier, things might’ve gone terribly wrong.
“Dear, come take a look at this. It’s the guest list for the invitations.”
Lady Cyrileze, sitting gracefully at the tea table, called Ethisha over. Ethisha, in the middle of letting out a sigh of relief, turned toward the list that was handed to her.
“Yes, Mother.”
It was the guest list for Ethisha’s upcoming wedding.
Even a quick glance showed a lineup of important figures—royalty, nobility, high-ranking officials, archmages, high priests… The ceremony would likely be more lavish than a royal wedding.
“If there’s anyone else you’d like to invite, or anyone you’d rather remove, just say the word…”
Lady Cyrileze gave full authority to Ethisha to make changes to the list. It was a generous gesture, to say the least.
“No, not at all. This looks perfect. And this wedding is for the Wintel family, after all. Anyone Mother wishes to invite is my guest as well.”
“My, you speak so beautifully, and your thoughts are so thoughtful.”
Lady Cyrileze smiled, clearly pleased.
“You’re too kind, Mother. That’s high praise.”
Ethisha also smiled gently in return.
“!”
Upon seeing Ethisha’s radiant smile directly, Lady Cyrileze quickly turned her head, flustered again. She seemed unable to hide her shyness.
Aww, she really is the cutest person in the Empire.
Ethisha beamed with a twinkle in her eyes. Tea time with Lady Cyrileze had become one of the most pleasant parts of her day. She looked forward to it daily.
Just then, after clearing her throat repeatedly, Lady Cyrileze spoke hesitantly.
“By the way, dear…”
“Yes? What is it, Mother?”
“I had this invitation prepared just in case, though I don’t know if it will be necessary. What matters most is your opinion.”
She placed a single white invitation on top of the guest list. It bore the Wintel family’s crest—the snow eagle—just like the others.
“…?”
Ethisha slowly opened the envelope.
And the moment she read it, her entire body stiffened.
To the Heinz Family…
With a sharp snap, she shut the invitation closed.
“As I thought, this one won’t be necessary.”
“…”
“Dear…?”
Even when Lady Cyrileze gently called to her, Ethisha couldn’t respond right away. Her mind was tangled. She felt disoriented.
If I send this invitation, will I have to face my family again?
Sister Larienne, Baron Heinz, even Lady Dorothea…
They’d all come to the North?
Ethisha shook her head. Her ties with the Heinz family had been severed.
Even if it was a fake wedding, not a real one, she didn’t want to invite them.
As Ethisha remained silent, Lady Cyrileze gently took her hand. Her warm hand overlapped Ethisha’s.
“I’m sorry, dear. I just thought it would be better to ask you directly…”
That warmth brought tears to Ethisha’s eyes.
“I understand, Mother. I’m actually grateful you asked.”
“This invitation shall be destroyed. No, it should be torn apart and burned immediately.”
Ethisha gave a faint, uncertain smile—but Lady Cyrileze meant it quite literally. She called a maid to bring a brazier.
“Mother?”
“Once it’s burned to ash, we’ll melt it in water, turn it into ice, then smash the ice with an axe.”
“M-Mother…?”
“And we’ll pour oil over the shattered ice and set it on fire again.”
Her eyes burned with fierce intensity. If a child had seen her, they would’ve burst into tears on the spot.
Ethisha could only blink her blue eyes, unable to stop her. The rumors about Duke Kayen being ruthless must’ve originated from Lady Cyrileze—he had clearly learned from her.
Ethisha glanced between the approaching maid and the resolute Lady Cyrileze. Then she whispered softly.
“Um, Mother… if it’s alright, could you let me have that invitation?”
“Hm? Why, dear? Was I too harsh?”
“No, it’s just…”
Ethisha’s cheeks flushed pink as she smiled shyly.
“I’d like to be the one to tear it up myself.”
Late at Night – Marquess Hexion’s Estate
Despite the late hour, the mansion was brightly lit. Glittering chandeliers, sultry music, hushed voices, masked guests…
Tonight was the night of Marquess Hexion’s masquerade ball.
He held these parties irregularly—not official social events, but private gatherings.
It was a secret, exclusive soirée where masked young men and women mingled. Identities unknown, names unspoken—just one night of indulgent fantasy.
Most nobles didn’t even know these events existed. Invitations were scarce, and revealing anything about what happened inside would mean being banned for life.
“Canaria. Are you ready?”
Behind a curtain, Marquess Hexion gave Dité a final once-over.
She wore a red dress like a blooming rose, a butterfly-shaped mask over her face. She looked like a sculpture of a butterfly resting on a flower.
“I’m ready, but… do I really have to wear this dress? I want to change into something else…”
“Didn’t you say before you liked how extravagant it was? Said it looked good?”
“Well… I don’t like it anymore.”
Just thinking about the day she first wore it made Dité’s shoulders tremble. The memories still stirred her too much.
“Too bad. This is the perfect time to show off Countess Monmade’s gift.”
“…”
“If you’re powerless, you have to use whatever you can.”
Dité bit the inside of her cheek.
He was right. She had no power. And this party was her stepping stone to gain it.
“Just endure it. If you play your part well, you’ll have dozens of dresses like that at your feet.”
Marquess Hexion walked out from behind the curtain and opened the previously shut door. A grand ballroom came into view, filled with masked nobles dancing.
“…Okay.”
Dité slowly stepped into the ballroom.
Her red dress swirled behind her, and her golden hair glimmered. Her entrance turned heads immediately, stirring the room.
“…”
Marquess Hexion watched her blend into the crowd for a moment, then shut the door. He had no intention of joining her.
He had opened the cage door and scattered the bait.
Now it was up to the bird to spread its wings and fly.
“If she grows into a useful hawk, this will be entertaining.”
Without watching further, he disappeared into the shadows. His expression, swallowed by darkness, no longer seemed human—more like a figure from myth.
He would simply watch from afar, amused.
Meanwhile, Dité moved alone through the ballroom, unaccompanied even by Marquess Hexion.
Several curious guests circled her, but she didn’t engage, standing her ground with composure.
Good. Just like this. Be confident…
She recalled the marquess’s advice as she waited for the right moment.
“If you want to be Kayen’s mistress, then act like his mistress.”
In high society, this is how it worked:
Even lies, when believed by everyone, became the truth.
Tonight, at this secret masquerade, Dité had to deceive every noble in the room.
That’s right. I’m Kayen’s mistress. I came here as his courtesan.
Time passed. As the music changed, a servant passed by her, carrying drinks.
A servant under Marquess Hexion’s orders.
“Ah!”
“Oh my!”
Dité collided with the servant. It was supposed to be staged, but it seemed the marquess had given orders to make it real.
The tray crashed to the floor, shattering glasses. The noise stopped the music, and all eyes turned to Dité.
“M-My lady, I’m so sorry. Are you alright…?”
She lay sprawled on the floor like a painting.
Her red skirt fanned out around her, golden hair cascading in glossy waves.
“…I’m fine.”
Slowly, she lifted her head.
At that moment, the butterfly mask slipped off her face, revealing her identity.
“…!”
Gasps echoed across the room.
Dité. Yudithé.
Lady Cyrileze’s adopted daughter, once rumored to be Kayen’s mistress—a commoner girl.
That woman… at this masquerade?
“No way! How could a commoner be here? This is outrageous!”
“Did the marquess invite her without checking her background? Impossible!”
Dité quickly replaced her mask, but most of the nobles had already recognized her.
Murmurs spread like wildfire.
Then, one sharp-eyed noble silenced the crowd and whispered under his breath.
“Quiet, all of you.”
“…?”
“Don’t you get it? If a commoner is here, it means someone brought her.”
“You don’t mean…”
“That’s right. Duke Kayen must’ve brought her as his companion.”
This was a masquerade.
Everyone wore masks—no one knew who was who.
So there was always a chance that the Duke himself was among them.
“Duke Kayen…”
Everyone fell silent.
It was hard to imagine the cold, stoic Kayen attending such a decadent party—but still, he was young.
It wasn’t entirely impossible.
