Episode 13
“Yes, that’s it. I was so excited thinking about today’s date with Your Highness that I didn’t eat much, and now I suddenly feel dizzy.”
She pressed her hand lightly to her forehead, then leaned her head against Patrick’s shoulder. Normally, Azrael always avoided any physical contact when they met. Now, right in front of Angela, she clung to him.
Patrick froze in shock. In the past, he would have brushed it off and thought nothing of it. But after what he had just said to Angela, and with Angela watching them closely, he couldn’t bring himself to embrace Azrael openly.
Azrael, pretending to be dizzy, half-closed her eyes and frowned slightly, all the while carefully watching both Patrick awkward and restless and Angela, who stared intently at them. An uneasy silence hung in the air.
Fortunately, Angela spoke first, wearing a worried expression.
“Azrael, if you’re not feeling well, wouldn’t it be better to go home and rest?”
“No, I couldn’t. His Highness went out of his way to spend time with me. How could I leave?” Azrael replied gently.
Patrick inwardly clapped his hands at the perfect excuse and quickly added,
“No, Azrael. There will be other days. I’d feel bad keeping you here when you’re unwell. We can go on another date next time. For now, return to your mansion and rest.”
“Would that be alright?” she asked.
“Of course. I’ll take you to your carriage. Come, stand up slowly.”
Patrick stood first, then helped Azrael to her feet. With a faint smile, she offered Angela a polite farewell and, leaning against Patrick’s escort, walked out to the carriage.
“Once I’m in the carriage, I’ll be fine, Your Highness. There’s no need to go all the way to the Nocturne mansion with me. Please, don’t trouble yourself.”
Azrael had plans to attend the evening’s masquerade ball, and she didn’t want Patrick lingering too long at her home. She deliberately blocked him from following her further.
But she needn’t have worried—Patrick, recalling that Angela was still inside waiting, reluctantly nodded.
“Then ride the imperial carriage. I have some business here, so I’ll stay a little longer. I’ll contact you later.”
He felt relieved. He told himself that escorting Azrael to the carriage was already enough courtesy, and now he could stay behind to comfort Angela, who had been neglected during the date.
“Thank you, Your Highness,” Azrael said softly.
Inside, she laughed bitterly at how transparent he was. Outwardly, she kept up her fragile act, bowing her head as though weak before stepping into the carriage.
As the carriage rolled away, she peeked out the window at a turn in the road. Just as she expected, Patrick was already gone—he had hurried into the café.
According to the Guild’s information, he and Angela hadn’t met since the debutante ball. Tonight would likely rekindle their affair. Angela couldn’t let go of Patrick, and Patrick kept glancing at her nervously even during their date. The answer was obvious.
But Azrael didn’t care in the slightest if they met again. The more they clung to each other, the more desperate Angela would become, and Patrick would only grow more troubled, torn between them. That was exactly what Azrael wanted.
Inside the carriage, a quiet, amused laugh escaped her lips and lingered for a long time.
Azrael arrived at the villa on the outskirts of the capital, where the masquerade ball was to be held. She wore a deep red, off-the-shoulder gown with a daring neckline.
Before stepping out of the carriage, she covered her eyes with a red fox-shaped mask decorated with flamboyant feathers. In her hand, she carried a matching crimson fan. Her hair, dyed blonde with a magical potion, shimmered under the lantern light. No one would suspect she was the daughter of Duke Nocturne.
At the entrance, she presented the invitation given by the Information Guild to the large guard and entered.
The moment she stepped inside, she was stunned—already, couples were pressed together, caressing each other openly. The ballroom was thick with heat and noise.
The women’s dresses were as revealing as hers, and the men’s hands and eyes wandered freely over them. Whether on stage or lounging on the sofas, there was little difference in their behavior.
It was Azrael’s first time at such a ball, in both this life and the last. The shock was overwhelming. She had heard whispers about masquerades, but never imagined this. It felt scandalous, even dangerous.
In this life, she had sworn never to marry or cling to love again. Still, she hadn’t ruled out romance—lighthearted affairs without the weight of marriage. But she had no intention of throwing herself at masked strangers like this.
The atmosphere was far more decadent than she had expected.
Leonard attends such a place? She thought in disbelief.
She pictured the prince who always seemed aloof, indifferent to women, uninterested in romance. Now, imagining him here among such scenes, she almost laughed out loud.
Could he be like Patrick after all, warm and gentle on the surface, but false inside? Can such a man be trusted as emperor?
The thought brought a wave of doubt.
But then she reconsidered. Maybe I’m judging too quickly. There could be another reason. I should meet him first, then decide.
As she entered deeper into the hall, men’s heated stares fell on her immediately. Though she had steeled herself, she felt deeply uncomfortable. In normal society, such blatant gazes would have been unthinkable.
I’ll have to be very careful here, she warned herself.
The drinks at such gatherings were known to be strong, even laced with drugs to loosen inhibitions. Azrael had only thought about meeting Prince Leonard—she hadn’t realized until now how reckless she had been. What if she didn’t find him and instead fell into a dangerous situation with some stranger?
Though she had experienced intimacy in her past life, she had no desire to live recklessly or fall into depravity.
In the Esperando Empire, arranged marriages were common. Affairs were hidden, but never flaunted in public. Thus, secret masquerades like this became an outlet for desires that could not be openly acknowledged. Everyone knew, but pretended not to.
If a child was born from such affairs, it was never acknowledged, and exposure brought disgrace. The hypocrisy was glaring.
Of course, if desire is too suppressed, it erupts like this. But this… this is worse than I expected.
Azrael, who had once dreamed of fiery but honest romance, could only shake her head at the sight.
The Nocturne family tradition valued free love and marriages based on genuine affection, regardless of social rank. Azrael herself had grown up with those values, yet ironically, she had been a pure-hearted girl—falling for Patrick at first sight, and loving only him until she became Empress.
Free love didn’t mean promiscuity. For the Nocturnes, it meant seeking a true partner, not scattering love like seeds in every direction.
