Chapter 6 ….
After the dance ended, they exchanged glasses, and Elena learned a lot about the man.
His name was Maxim—Maxim Adelov. He said it had been nearly five years since he’d last come to Revunto.
Elena couldn’t help but wonder why someone like Maxim was talking to her. He wore elegant clothes and carried himself with refined grace.
No—he was the kind of person who looked graceful without even trying.
In other words, he was on a completely different level from the men who crudely begged her to bear or raise their children.
[I still haven’t received your thanks.]
[Ah, that day… I was truly grateful.]
Elena gave him a clumsy bow when he mentioned it, and that was when the man told her his name.
[Why are you talking to someone like me?]
[Why shouldn’t I?]
[But… I’m only wearing something like this…]
Elena protested, her face flushing bright red. If she could, she would have ripped the tablecloth off the banquet table to cover herself.
If it hadn’t been for Cecile, who kept pinching her arm and nagging about Leana, Elena would never have stepped out of the house dressed like this.
[You’re belittling your own worth too much. Do you really think your value can be measured by clothes?]
[Then… by what?]
For some reason, she felt like crying. Every man she danced with that night had stared at her exposed neckline in the same way.
[Your worth isn’t determined by such things. I’d say you know that better than I do.]
His calm tone and indifferent expression pierced straight into Elena’s chest like a dart.
My worth is determined by me.
I, Elena Joseph, decide that.
He wasn’t wrong. Elena clenched her fists. No one had ever said such a thing to her before. Cecile was the kind of person who judged everything by appearances. And her standard was always money.
She even assigned price tags to her own daughters.
To this day, Elena still didn’t understand how a man like her father had ended up marrying someone like her mother.
Peyto Joseph had been a dignified and honorable man. Even his death had been honorable.
All of Elena’s values and sense of responsibility came from Peyto. Until his dying breath, he had asked her to take care of Leana.
Most of the memories from the banquet had faded, but her conversation with Maxim remained vivid in her mind.
[Why are you being so kind to me?]
[Who knows. Maybe I really am your savior. After all, I’ve ended up saving you again and again. Thanks to this, your value will rise another level.]
And just as Maxim had said, after she danced with him, no other man approached Elena.
[Males instinctively recognize the strong. And when a strong one has marked a woman, no one else dares touch her.]
She wasn’t sure if she fully understood, but the meaning stuck with her.
As she was recalling that conversation, her door suddenly opened.
“Elena!”
Elena sighed deeply, snapping back to reality. Cecile, her face flushed red from drinking, staggered toward her, reeking of alcohol. She plopped down beside Elena.
“No one’s willing to say who that man was. Did he really not tell you anything?”
“No.”
“You idiot. Among the men you danced with, didn’t he look like the most valuable catch? Then you should have dragged him to bed and made sure not to let him go!”
Cecile smacked the back of Elena’s head. Elena bowed her head forward, letting out a long sigh.
She spat out such vulgar words to her own daughter without a second thought.
“Ugh, even those snobbish ladies won’t say a word.”
She must have spent the day hanging around the salon, probably joining those idle noblewomen playing poker. She’d probably blown through their meager fortune again before crawling home.
Elena clenched her fists.
“But the fact that they let me join them means that man is quite extraordinary. Those women kept asking about what kind of relationship you had with him.”
“I told you, there’s nothing between us.”
“Then why would he dance with you and talk for that long, you fool! A man never shows kindness to a woman he has no interest in!”
Thud.
Her hair fell forward again as Cecile smacked her once more, then staggered to her feet, annoyed.
“Hmph. If that doesn’t work out, don’t think there aren’t other options. Some of the men you danced with brought up marriage talks in passing. If you keep acting like a fool, I’ll just have to take those offers.”
Elena stared blankly at Cecile.
Cecile already had the look of someone who’d tasted money. Come to think of it, her dress and shoes were both new.
Someone must have slipped her money under the guise of marriage negotiations. Cecile had already sold her.
She left Elena’s room. Elena buried her face in her hands. Her slender shoulders trembled. No matter what, she didn’t want to sell her life into that kind of filth.
[My dear Elena. Because you are my daughter, you will be happy. I promise you that.]
The moment she recalled her father’s words, Maxim’s face flashed through her mind too.
Someone the nobles were protecting with their silence.
It wasn’t right to expect someone else to pull her out of this hell. Elena slowly blinked, drew in a breath, and whispered:
“I’m the one who will save my life.”
Elena took a deep breath and looked up at the massive mansion before her.
It was the residence of Countess Presto.
No one had told her anything about the man, but at the very least, Elena knew where he was staying—Maxim himself had told her.
Her trembling hand pressed the doorbell.
Clang.
The sound sent a small ripple through the huge mansion, and the birds in the garden all fluttered up into the sky at once.
Elena clenched the hem of her skirt tightly.
The kind butler immediately led her into the reception room. For some reason, she felt as embarrassed as when she’d stood barefoot on Kress Bridge. Her toes twitched nervously.
The carpet beneath her feet, the table before her, the chair she sat in—everything in the room made it hard for her to breathe.
Even when her father was alive, she had never seen such luxurious furnishings.
She suddenly felt like the only blemish in the room, and her pale cheeks flushed pink.
Meanwhile, a small commotion was stirring outside the reception room.
“Who’s visiting the reception room right now? Who’s here?”
Countess Presto, who had been lazily reading a romance novel, jumped to her feet. The sofa bed shook from the sudden movement.
“A lady named Elena Joseph has come to see Young Master Maxim, madam!”
The head maid repeated herself, her face slightly flushed.
Among the noble circles, many were deeply interested in Maxim’s marriage prospects—none more passionately than Countess Presto herself.
“My goodness! The girl who danced with Maxim—and the only one, no less?”
“Yes!”
“My word!”
The Countess hastily straightened her clothes, her heart pounding.
Ever since that incident, Maxim had avoided entanglements with women entirely. He rarely attended social gatherings with many women, and if any tried to approach him, he made them retreat with his sharp tongue.
Because of that, not a single young lady had dared approach him at the banquet. And yet he had personally asked Elena to dance—and danced with her.
‘Could it be… that fortune teller was right?’
Her face lit up with excitement. She slipped her feet into her discarded slippers and threw the door open.
“Where is she now? Have you told Maxim? If she’s come to see him, I must greet her personally!”
She didn’t know who the girl was, but Maxim had a sharp eye for people—he wouldn’t have chosen just anyone.
The Countess walked briskly, then paused.
‘If that girl can forget that tragedy and find happiness…’
It wouldn’t matter even if the visitor was a beggar. Truly. The entire family would likely agree.
The Countess threw open the reception room door with gusto.
There she saw a young woman with softly brushed, delicate light-golden hair and striking, almost temptress-like bright blue eyes.
She looked like a frightened doe.
“Oh my.”
