Chapter 3
When I waved my hand, my mother spotted me and gave me a bright, refreshing smile.
I walked up to her, took her hand, and stepped onto the carpet. The moment I did, every noble in the hall—including the wives from earlier—turned their gaze toward me.
Seeing a few faces twist in displeasure made me feel as though I had just accomplished something grand, and I couldn’t help but straighten my shoulders in pride.
Facing the nobles who stood there, stunned, I lifted one side of my dress and gave a proper noble’s curtsey.
“Hello, I’m Prill Brentio. Thank you, esteemed guests, for coming today to celebrate my mother.”
Once I introduced myself, the guests were left looking a bit dumbfounded.
Not only was it surprising to see me looking healthy despite the rumors of my frailty…
But to think she’s actually that beautiful?
The wives who had been so haughty just moments ago turned pale and quickly disappeared. Murmurs broke out here and there, but before long, the party resumed.
After that, the young heirs who attended all seemed eager to speak privately with my parents, leaving both of them busy.
Taking advantage of the moment, I decided to check out the dessert table first.
It wasn’t often I got a chance to eat without my parents stopping me out of concern for my health.
Cookies dripping with chocolate, star-shaped sugar cookies, tarts piled high with glistening fruit…
The Brentio household’s desserts were always top-tier, but it was clear both the head chef and my father had gone all out for my mother’s birthday.
I’m not sure how long I kept eating, but once my dessert stomach was full, I finally accepted a glass of juice from a passing servant and took a few sips.
Leaning lazily against the wall, I could finally take in my surroundings properly.
Maybe I should check out the potential boyfriend candidates?
Laki Kenshuner, Bitone Elibrin, Kay Ritornello, and so on…
They were mostly from prestigious families, but like I’ve said before, that’s not what I care about.
I don’t have anything too specific in mind, but…
A sharp nose and jawline perfect for sliding down like a playground slide, and eyes that smolder with challenge and sex appeal—that would be nice.
Personality-wise, someone devoted only to me like a sunflower, gentle most of the time, occasionally cheeky, someone who lets me win during the day but wins at night. That would be perfect.
But… even while I was eating earlier, I noticed something—these guys were all basically afraid of me.
From the wary looks, I could tell I was “Public Enemy Number One” in their minds, but I didn’t expect all of them to actively avoid me.
Having a father like Sir Gerard was basically the same as an official restraining order for them.
In the Empire, if children cried, parents would hush them by saying, “Sir Gerard is coming to get you.” Kids who grew up hearing that—what would they think of me, his daughter?
It wasn’t unusual, so I didn’t think much of it.
Still, being left alone meant I started to feel the eyes of the surrounding adults on me.
I hadn’t noticed while eating, but now it was a bit uncomfortable, so I slipped outside when the music changed.
Unlike the stuffy party hall, the cool air brushed pleasantly against my face.
I bit into a cookie I had brought out, savoring the sense of freedom.
Then—crash!—a loud noise rang out.
It seemed to come from the far end of the corridor…
“That’s him! Take him away at once!”
The head steward’s roar was followed by a desperate voice crying out over and over, begging for forgiveness.
From the youthful tone, it sounded like someone around my age.
Curious, I headed toward the noise and soon saw a shattered vase in pieces across the middle of the hall.
There, surrounded by several servants, stood the culprit.
“What’s going on?”
When the steward spotted me, he hurried forward.
“This boy broke the vase here. I’m certain he was trying to steal it.”
The so-called thief was a small boy, his body trembling as he was held by a servant twice his size.
If he really intended to steal, he would’ve gone for jewels worth far more than a vase.
People in the Brentio household had a tendency to be overly zealous in their loyalty to the family. I didn’t blame them—it was their job, after all.
But from the boy’s desperate look, I could tell this was a serious matter for him.
“Let him go.”
“…Pardon? My lady, but—”
At the words my lady, the boy’s wide eyes snapped toward me.
“I’ll take care of the vase myself. Everyone, return to your duties.”
The steward looked hesitant for a moment, but then quickly cleaned up the broken pieces and left.
I usually hated meddling in other people’s business… but my parents would’ve let him go anyway, so I was just saving them the trouble.
Burn-marked, worn-out clothes, hair sticking out messily, scuffed shoes that looked completely out of place at a party…
At a glance, the boy was clearly a commoner.
A vase that was mere decoration in the Brentio household could very well be worth his life.
With the corridor now empty except for the two of us, we silently looked at each other.
Slowly, the boy’s ashen face regained some color, and his long hair fluttered in the breeze.
When the hair shifted and revealed his full face, I froze.
What kind of boy is this… so pretty?!
Sure, I’m pretty too—but this was on another level.
You might ask, “Pretty is pretty, so what’s ‘on another level’?”
His first impression was enough to make anyone gasp.
Brilliant silver hair rare in the Empire, strikingly defined features for his young age, and a small mouth pressed into a stubborn line.
It was a different vibe from my own aloof image, but if he grew up like this, he would definitely conquer the Empire with his looks.
Even with our eyes locked, the boy didn’t look away.
Oh? Bold, aren’t we?
He probably didn’t know my father was Sir Gerard… but even so, no one in the Empire dared look straight at me like this.
My beauty was so dazzling that most people needed time to adjust to it.
Yet here he was, staring right at me…
So. Are you saying you’re prettier than me?
If that’s the claim, I’ll admit it.
The boy’s beauty was dazzling enough to silence any argument.
Even the rags he wore were elevated into something charming just by being on him.
Pretending to engage in a staring contest, I mentally dressed him in an adorable suit—ruffled, with ribbons.
If I styled his hair with pomade…
Ridiculously cute.
Crazily so.
The perfect color would be cobalt blue—the “Color of the Year” that matched his blue eyes. I’d never seen it in person since I died before it was announced, but still.
Come to think of it, those blue eyes were filled with me.
At some point, the boy had taken a step closer. The trembling expression from earlier was gone—now, a proud little kitten stood before me.
“Here. Take this.”
…Huh. I wasn’t expecting thanks, but this was a bit surprising.
In his outstretched hand were several paper bills.
From the bulging pocket, it looked like he’d given me his entire fortune.
The bills, now in my hand, were ones I’d never seen before.
Nobles never used such small denominations, so it was no wonder.
Was he trying to settle the vase’s cost with this?
I found myself smiling as I looked at the money.
Maybe he misunderstood my gaze, because he quickly added, “I wasn’t trying to steal it.”
Who said you were a thief?
Oh right—the servants did earlier.
I’d felt a little guilty, but he cut that thought short.
“I’m not a thief.”
His serious expression almost made me laugh, but I held it in.
“I’ll pay back the rest little by little.”
For someone who’d just caused trouble, he was awfully confident—any bystander might’ve thought I was the one in debt.
I thought about teasing him, but… decided against it when I noticed his arm trembling.
Despite his age, his arm was lined with lean muscle.
Just what kind of work did this kid do to have muscles like that?
When I finally looked back up, the proud kitten was still trembling slightly.
“That’s fine. This is enough.”
I tapped the bills against my palm and smiled. His face flushed red.
He parted his lips as if to say something—probably to thank me—but I never got to hear it.
“Jeff! Time to go!”
So his name was Jeff. He gave me a quick bow before walking away.
Even as he left, he kept glancing back, those blue eyes holding me until the very end.
Jeff.
A common name among commoners, and without a title—so as I suspected, he wasn’t here as a guest.
The figure leading him away at the end of the hall was likely his mother. They seemed affectionate enough, but something about her looked unsteady.
Once the party ended and life returned to normal, I was absorbed in drawing.
I’d been struck with inspiration and was giddy with excitement.
Of course, all of this secret work was done in my atelier.
Before, it was because of my extraordinary skill, but now there was another reason—no one could discover the sketches of Jeff.
Yes, the muse for all this inspiration was, ridiculously enough, someone I’d barely seen for a few minutes.
Jeff’s face refused to leave my mind, lingering vividly.
Each time I thought of him, another sketch of his angelic face in a matching suit filled my sketchbook.
If I could, I’d dress him in every single one.
As I turned the page to distract myself, a bill fluttered down.
The money Jeff had given me that day.
When I picked it up, it didn’t smell like Jeff—it smelled faintly of seaweed.
I’d found out later that this amount was what a common laborer earned after several full days of work.
From a worker’s registry, I’d also learned that Jeff’s mother, hair neatly tied up, had come to the party to wash dishes as a day laborer.
Our household, thanks to my parents’ policy, paid workers generously, so she’d likely dragged herself here despite being unwell.
Had I known it was such desperate money, I wouldn’t have accepted it.
Should I return it to Jeff?
But maybe that was too short-sighted. That proud little kitten probably had quite the stubborn pride.
Instead of seeking him out, it would be better to happen to run into him.
But as a noble lady, I had almost no reason to cross paths with a commoner.
If I’d known, I would’ve lingered longer that day.
As I was berating myself, my clueless stomach growled loudly, echoing in the atelier.
When I returned to the mansion, the smell of freshly baked bread and cream soup greeted me.
As always, Father kindly sliced the bread into bite-sized pieces and placed them on my plate.
As I dipped the pieces into the soup and munched away, Mother subtly leaned in beside me.
“Were there any young heirs today that you liked?”
