ITTRAETML 51

~Chapter 51~

“Such refined ladies might find this uncomfortable to hear.”

“Building knowledge in many areas is a virtue. Learning about something new is a joy, don’t you agree?”

Lovelace looked around. The noble ladies waved their fans. They weren’t very interested, but they seemed willing to listen. That made her smile.

“See? You may continue.”

And so, Beatrice’s colorful love affairs were revealed. The ladies, who had pretended to look away, were soon drawn into her stories.

“W-wait, a commoner?”

Lady Melrosa’s eyes widened so much it looked as if they might pop out.

“Why? Is there some law that says I can’t meet a commoner?”

Beatrice asked with a calm face.

“Nobles and commoners? That doesn’t match.”

These same ladies had listened eagerly to talk about roaming hands, stolen kisses, and rough embraces, yet one mention of a “commoner” made them suddenly act all proper. The hypocrisy was laughable.

Beatrice’s face turned cold at Lady Melrosa’s reaction.

“I enjoyed it. What mattered wasn’t that he was a commoner, but that he was a hardworking man with a strong body.”

Lovelace stepped in smoothly, making sure neither woman felt insulted, and leaned forward with interest.

“So tell us more, Beatrice. On that stormy night, in the barn—what happened?”

Beatrice’s lips curved as she continued.

“The candle flickered in the wind. The air was damp and hot. And his burning eyes stared at me.”

The ladies gasped. Lovelace clenched her hands in sympathy.

“His hands were rough with calluses from hard work. With those large, strong hands he traced along my waist, and then…”

She stopped there. The ladies all gulped water quickly, their throats dry.

“His thick lips brushed against my neck. Slowly, slowly…”

“Downward?”

The unexpected question came from Lady Quieton, who had been silent until now. Everyone turned to her in surprise.

She cleared her throat awkwardly. “Books describe such things.”

Beatrice smiled slyly.

“…Sorry to disappoint, but his lips moved upward instead.”

The explanation continued with sighs and heavy breathing mixed in. Fans slipped from hands, and all eyes locked on Beatrice.

“It was ecstasy.”

“That’s impossible! Just from a kiss? Countess Lovelace, what do you think?”

Lady Melrosa grabbed Lovelace’s sleeve, eyes wide with desperation.

“Hm? What do I think?”

“Can a kiss alone really bring such ecstasy?”

Melrosa looked bitter, as if upset she had never experienced it.

“Well, I…”

Lovelace fumbled for words, but Beatrice cut in sharply.

“Why even ask her? She looks like she’s never had any romance at all.”

The jab stung. Did Beatrice think romance was so special? Lovelace thought otherwise. She too had things to say about kisses—after all, she had kissed Larvihan. In fact, when it came to time spent kissing, she might even be the winner!

And mocking someone for inexperience? That was cruel.

Besides, she had Larvihan! Even if it had started as a deal, he had kissed her, saved her, even gone on a date. That was enough to call it romance, wasn’t it?

Lovelace’s expression hardened. She crossed her legs and leaned back.

“I’m in a relationship.”

Beatrice scoffed. “Don’t lie, Countess. For someone of your status, it wouldn’t be romance but a political marriage. In this empire, can women freely choose love and marriage? Unless they’re commoners, of course.”

“Beatrice, that’s going too far,” Lady Melrosa said carefully, glancing at Lady Quieton, the merchant’s daughter.

Beatrice smirked. “Oh, I didn’t mean it that way. What I meant was—why would Countess Lovelace, who already has everything, need to lie about romance?”

Lovelace clicked her tongue.

“You want proof?”

She had thought rumors about her and Larvihan had already spread, but clearly not. They had only gone on one official date, and Larvihan lived mostly in the capital, so no gossip had reached here.

Maybe it was better this way—less scandal. Still, her heart told her to speak the truth.

“Next time I host a tea party, I’ll invite my lover too. What do you think, Beatrice?”

“I don’t meet with just one man, so I’ll pass.”

“Then… should we invite our husbands too?” Lady Quieton suggested.

Lovelace’s eyes lit up. Perfect—another chance to expand her network. She nodded eagerly.

“Yes, I’ll arrange it. Actually, there’s someone I’d love to introduce to you today.”

The ladies perked up with interest. Lovelace rose to her feet.

“I think you’ll be pleased. My etiquette teacher, Madam Johan.”

All five women’s mouths dropped open.

“Y-Y-Yellowgreen Johan?!”

For once, Beatrice stammered.

Lovelace didn’t bother to answer. No need—because Madam Johan herself entered.

“It’s been a while, Lady Beatrice, Lady Quieton, and Lady Melrosa. And it’s an honor to meet the rest of you as well. I am Yellowgreen Johan.”

With graceful elegance, she bowed. The atmosphere shifted at once. The ladies straightened, like drawers neatly pushed into place.

“T-Teacher…”

“You don’t need to call me teacher, Lady Quieton,” Madam Johan said kindly.

But Lady Quieton blushed red. Madam Johan had once been her tutor, when no one else would teach a merchant’s daughter. Thanks to her lessons, Quieton had gained entry into noble society.

“No, once a teacher, always a teacher.”

The word “teacher” struck deep in Madam Johan’s heart.

Fortunately, no one openly showed displeasure at her presence.

“Today’s host is me. Sorry for the late introduction. Let’s truly enjoy the tea party now, shall we?” Lovelace said.

She left the rest to Madam Johan. The ladies relaxed, slipping into memories of their girlhood lessons.

‘Should I bring up the law?’ Lovelace glanced at Madam Johan.

But Johan shook her head: Not today. Be satisfied with the connections you’ve built.

Still, Lovelace worried. Would Larvihan ever join such a calm tea table? Or would he flip it over instead?

She decided not to think too much. Things would work out somehow.

That evening, Lovelace lay on her bed.

Larvihan still hadn’t appeared. He was always unpredictable, but this was too much.

After dinner, Paulo had come, proudly showing the homework Larvihan had given.

“Sis, when is Teacher Larvihan coming?”

“Why? Is there something you don’t understand? I’ll help you.”

“Here… I don’t get this part.”

He pointed at a passage. Lovelace’s heart sank. It was her weakest subject—ancient Imperial history.

The empire was barely over 300 years old. At first, she had thought: That’s easy! I studied 500 years of Joseon history, after all. But when she opened the books, she realized how wrong she was.

The empire claimed even the unbelievable times before it—the age of dragons, angels, and demons—were real history. That made the content vast and confusing.

“Sorry… I don’t know either.”

The old texts were filled with metaphors and riddles. Lovelace wanted to impress her brother, but she couldn’t. The look of disappointment on Paulo’s face still haunted her.

“Hmph. He’s himself and I’m me. But why am I angry?”

She kicked off her blanket, hugged a pile of cushions, and rested her chin. Curling up, she thought hard.

Was Larvihan’s absence because he had gone to take revenge on Duke Hendrake?

“All of this is Hendrake’s fault. He ruined everything.”

Her vision suddenly twisted.

“You! Who are you?!”

A man wrapped in bandages pointed at her furiously.

“Oh no…” Lovelace sighed.

As she expected—she had teleported again.

Her teleportation always happened when she thought strongly of someone. This time, it had taken her to none other than Duke Hendrake’s mansion.

“Duke Hendrake?”

“Hah! You dare teleport here? You think you can take advantage of me while I’m injured? Dream on!”

So he had many enemies. Fire gathered in his wounded hand.

Right—he was a famous mage. Compared to Larvihan, he seemed weak, but he was still powerful enough to hold high rank in the Magic Tower.

‘If I fight him head-on, I’ll die. Maybe I should scream…’

Lovelace recalled the spells Larvihan had taught her.

But instead of reciting, she focused hard: I want ice-cold water to pour over his head.

And then—

A hole opened above him.

“What the—?”

“Whatever trick you try, it’s too late to stop—ahhh!”

Ice-cold water poured down, soaking him. His lips turned blue.

“M-Magic? You’re a mage?! Who are you? Who sent you? Which faction are you from?!”

Lovelace stared at her hands in shock. She hadn’t even spoken the spell, yet magic had manifested.

‘It feels different than when I used Larvihan’s lessons… but how?’

The Duke stood up, moving toward her. His legs worked fine despite his injuries.

That at least eased her guilt—she wasn’t attacking a helpless patient.

“You want to know who I am? I’m Countess Lovelace of Harmelda. Surprised?”

The Duke froze, stunned. Who revealed their identity after trespassing and attacking with magic?

But Lovelace simply raised her hand again, smiling sweetly.

“You’ve made a huge mistake, Duke. You picked the wrong person to provoke.”

Another stream of freezing water poured down on his head.