Chapter 55
The long-awaited summer festival had finally begun.
For two days straight, the people of the capital sang day and night, drank cold, sweet drinks, and danced in the squares.
A lanky jester blew soap bubbles, and children darted between the stalls, begging their parents to buy them whatever caught their fancy.
And at last, the final day of the festival arrived.
Marienne arrived at the venue in the Beers family’s carriage. Inside with her were the Countess, Chloe, and the youngest, Daisy.
“Did your friends manage to get entry tickets?”
Chloe asked her younger sister.
“Four of them did, but one failed.”
“Oh dear, what happened to her?”
“So she hid in a dark alley, ambushed a passerby, threw pepper in his face, and ran off with the ticket he dropped.”
Chloe stared at her sister for a long moment, then slowly opened her fan.
“…Mother, sometimes I truly can’t tell where our youngest is joking and where she’s being serious.”
“As far as I can tell, you’re not much different, Chloe,” the Countess replied cheerfully.
“You’re always wandering around the capital, excited about matching up the most absurd pairs of men and women. Every time, I can’t tell if you’re joking or not.”
“Mother, love is absurd by nature. It’s a chain of coincidences with zero logic. I just… plant a few of those coincidences myself…”
“There she goes again.”
Daisy, sitting beside Marienne, sighed. Chloe, meanwhile, scolded her for her tone, and the Countess calmly advised her eldest to calm down.
“In any case, I was the one who gave Jerusha the pepper-spraying tip.”
So the friend who failed to get a ticket was named Jerusha.
“…You did, Mother?”
“Poor Jerusha came to our house with her eyes all swollen. So I taught her an old-fashioned trick. Your grandmother used the same method more than once to get out of trouble in her youth.”
“You encouraged a fifteen-year-old to commit a crime!?”
Chloe raised her voice, then startled herself and covered her mouth with her fan. The carriage was already entering the city streets. It was midday in summer, so of course the windows were wide open.
Daisy chimed in with a tone that said this point must be clarified:
“Jerusha had her birthday last month. She’s sixteen now—legally.”
“That’s not the point.”
“It is! If she commits a crime now, she goes to prison, not juvenile detention.”
Chloe was left speechless. She just stared at her youngest with an expression that said, how could you say that about a friend? But Daisy remained unbothered.
“Anyway, she picked her target carefully. She attacked a man who bought a ticket just to mock his cousin who’s competing in the pageant. She even threw three times the ticket’s value in cash, so it’s fine.”
“Jerusha’s more calculating than she looks.”
“Of course. She’s my friend.”
Listening to the family’s chatter, Chloe’s jaw dropped lower and lower. Marienne, however, focused less on Jerusha’s exploits and more on the fact that tickets had become so hard to get.
As an event planner, she had a very good feeling about this.
A very good feeling.
◇ ◆ ◇
“You’ll see soon enough—the participants’ level this year is quite high. The talent show’s solid, too. All we need now is a big audience.”
The mustached man dabbed at his face with a handkerchief.
Whatever trick he used, he wasn’t sweating at all despite the blazing summer sun. The handkerchief was really just to discreetly cover his mouth.
“I’ve called in about twenty acquaintances to fill any empty seats.”
He whispered behind the handkerchief.
“I doubt twenty will be enough, but… it’s better than nothing.”
His tone was uncertain. Marienne recalled the manic energy in the Beers family carriage earlier and smiled slyly.
“It’ll be fine.”
“Yes, let’s hope… really hope so.”
“Just get ready to receive the commendation the higher-ups will give us afterward!”
Then, the entrance gates opened. The committee members peeked nervously through the curtains. Some clutched their cross necklaces, trembling.
Only the lone female committee member looked calm—as if she already knew something.
“Oh, oh! They’re entering. It’s starting!”
“As expected, my sister’s first in line…”
“You can tell from here?”
“I could recognize my sister even from over the mountain ridge. It’s… divine punishment, I suppose.”
“There’s quite a crowd, though?”
The seats began filling quickly from the front rows. By the time a third of them were full, a staffer came running. Someone muttered that the time had come.
“So that’s it, huh. In the end, we’ll still have empty seats—”
“Committee members! The on-site tickets are sold out! Angry citizens are demanding we sell standing-room passes! What do we do?”
The committee, who had been on the brink of despair, just blinked in confusion.
“The ticket sellers are panicking! Please give instructions quickly!”
“W-what? On-site tickets are sold out?”
“Then that means the advance tickets from yesterday must be…”
The committee members exchanged dazed looks.
“Sold out?”
“Committee members!”
The staffer shouted again. Marienne asked if there were any rules about standing-room tickets. Since the “Imperial Flower Pageant” had always been popular, there might be.
One member finally regained enough composure to give orders, and Marienne immediately called for more staff to be dispatched to the ticket booth. The commotion had to be settled before the Second Prince’s entourage arrived.
A moment later, the grand sound of horns filled the air.
“Honored ladies—and the occasional gentleman—we ask that you please take your seats.”
As the horns faded, the announcer’s lively voice followed.
“And now, the highlight of the summer festival! The moment everyone’s been waiting for! For the first time in history—the Imperial Flower Pageant: Men’s Division begins!”
As the announcer gave safety instructions, a tall staffer poked his head through the curtain.
“Judges, please enter.”
Marienne glanced at herself one last time in the mirror before stepping out.
She recalled Chloe’s expression—ready to strangle her—when she’d insisted on wearing a simple white blouse and dull gray skirt instead of the new summer dress.
I guess expensive clothes really are worth it, she thought, adjusting the floral hairpiece made of fresh flowers. She felt confident enough to step onto the stage as she was.
Quite cute, actually.
She heard the announcer begin introducing the judges. Lined up by age, Marienne was last in line. They walked through a short passage and appeared one by one before the crowd.
“Please give them a warm round of applause!”
“Waaaaah!”
Good heavens—the roar of the crowd hit like a wave!
Marienne looked out at the audience, astonished. She knew intellectually it was sold out, but knowing and feeling it were very different. The cheers and applause of thousands washed over her.
She didn’t even remember how she managed to bow and take her seat among the judges, but she was sure she’d done it with her usual capable charm.
Then came the introductions for the Second Prince and the guests of honor.
Ugh, why is he here again.
Beside the Second Prince stood his sycophant, Priest Leslie Anais, smiling serenely.
His white priest’s robe, fitted to his form, shone dazzlingly bright today—perhaps because of the row of diamond buttons glittering down the front.
The Second Prince waved to the crowd, basking in a popularity that wasn’t truly his own.
He supposedly gave his approval without protest when we asked to change the event date.
For a man like him, not making a fuss was suspicious in itself. The rumor that the food poisoning incident at the contestants’ dorm was his own scheme felt all the more plausible.
Marienne clapped politely, wearing the hollow smile of an employee facing a superior she despised.
You’ll be purged by that “lowborn” half-sister you despise before the year ends. My heartfelt congratulations in advance. Clap clap clap.
The wrongly accused contestants from the dorm would be compensated separately—Baileon had agreed to handle that himself.
Baileon, after all, was a man whose words could stop a war. A few compensations for beauty contestants would be nothing to him.
Still, Marienne wanted to ensure the pageant’s success—for his sake, when he would stand before the Second Prince later.
“And now, let the Imperial Flower Pageant begin!”
The orchestra’s music filled the hall. All eyes turned to the stage.
The curtain at the center rose, revealing a handsome boy with green, grass-colored hair in an Imperial Academy uniform.
Oh, he’s got that “sports team senior” vibe.
He looked like he could shake the water droplets from his hair and flash a bright smile at any moment. His athletic build explained the impression.
Marienne checked the contestant’s profile sheet.
As expected, Contestant #1 had entered the Academy on an athletic scholarship and won medals every year.
That kind of shoulder line doesn’t come naturally at that age.
“Hello. Contestant Number One, Ludvig Fromm. Seventeen years old, fourth year at the Imperial Academy. My hobby is knitting, and my specialties are long jump and mounted swordsmanship.”
Despite his lively appearance, his voice trembled slightly. Marienne thought the contrast was part of his charm.
“Next up is Contestant Number Two, Tamir Hathor, who joined after spotting the poster while traveling!”
His name already sounded exotic. When the tall, golden-eyed, bronze-skinned young man stepped out, the crowd stirred audibly—especially those fond of wild types.
“Looking good already,” Marienne murmured to the other judges.
The mustached man beamed proudly, as if his plan to present contestants of diverse appeal was working perfectly.
Amid loud cheers, Contestant #2 took his place.
“The energy’s incredible already! But folks, this is only the beginning! Please welcome Contestant Number Three—Barrel Evergreen!”
Marienne skimmed the profile. Contestant #3 was a tall man—189 centimeters—from a small southern town, visiting his relatives in the capital when he decided to participate.
Even before he spoke, whistles echoed through the crowd. A rose thrown from the back landed on Marienne’s desk—someone hadn’t thrown it quite far enough.
“Hello. Contestant Number Three, Barrel Evergreen.”
That voice—!
“I currently work at a music shop. My hobby and skill are both violin performance. Pleased to meet you.”
Marienne’s head snapped up.
#3 had brown hair, brown eyes, and a quietly impressive build. Unlike the others, he dressed plainly—making him stand out even more.
What is this? His name, background, job, even his looks are different…
But Marienne couldn’t shake the feeling.
Why does he remind me of someone I know?
