Clang!

A teacup shattered, and a plate flew across the room—almost at the same time.

Even with his forehead split open, Tod simply stood still, head bowed. It was unfair, but he had no choice.

Jarvis Cambria lived more as a marquis than a father, and his fury was terrifying.

“Have you lost your mind?”

Jarvis had turned the room into a disaster in seconds, but even that wasn’t enough to quell his anger as he fumed, breath ragged.

The curses being hurled were more vulgar than anything one might hear from a street thug in the marketplace.

The contempt in Marchioness Brenda’s eyes, standing beside him, was deeper than ever. And the look on Lomia’s face—lowering her gaze as if heartbroken over her poor brother—was utterly unbearable.

“She’s a princess, damn it! I handed you things you could never dream of having in your life, and you still can’t repay a single damn thing!”

Something surged up from deep within Tod at those words.

“Well, I guess the seed never strays far from the tree, does it, Father?”

“What the hell did you say?”

Jarvis Cambria was the illegitimate child of the former head of House Cambria. Tod didn’t know all the details, but that part was certain.

Jarvis had secured his place as head of the family by earning great merit for the Imperial Family, raising their name into the ranks of the high nobility as a marquis.

But as the saying went—you can’t steal a seed.

For all his desperate efforts to erase the stigma of being born out of wedlock, Jarvis had kept several mistresses even before marrying.

Tod’s mother had been a maid in the estate.

When Brenda, the Marchioness, gave birth to Lomia and was no longer able to conceive, the marquis officially recognized Tod and named him heir.

And Tod’s wife—the princess, Bianca—had never accepted her husband’s origins.

It was said she cried every day, refusing to marry a bastard.

The Emperor, to appease her, allowed her to retain her princess title even after marriage
and granted her an enormous dowry along with lavish personal wealth. But he didn’t cancel the marriage.

He, too, was more emperor than father, and he valued the alliance between the Imperial Family and Cambria more than his daughter’s wishes.

“Not a single noble in the capital goes without a mistress. Why should I remain chaste for a wife who despises me and refuses even to share a bed?”

“If a bastard born from a maid is allowed to inherit this family, then that’s the least you can do!”

Whatever others might do, Tod was supposed to endure it.

Even if she refused to touch him, even if she denied him entry into her room—she was supposed to bear it. Because maintaining the bond with the Imperial Family took precedence.

He owed that much for being raised under this roof.

“Aeva is pregnant.”

“What?”

“I’ll be registering the child under my name. If it’s a son, he’ll inherit.”

“You, you worthless bastard!”

If the princess never produced an heir, then eventually, they would have adopted one.

They would’ve found a suitable boy from one of the collateral branches.

The best outcome would’ve been if Lomia married, bore several sons, and one of them could be brought into the line.

Any of them would have been acceptable—except Tod’s illegitimate child.

That alone would surely ignite discord between the Imperial Family and House Cambria.

“Immediately!”

Jarvis didn’t even finish shouting for the child to be dealt with before the parlor doors swung open.

“P-Princess.”

Seeing Bianca enter, Tod—who still had a shred of conscience—began to stammer.

With a terrifying expression, Bianca strode up to him and swung her arm with all her strength.

Smack!

A sharp crack rang out as her palm struck Tod’s cheek. 

The sting wasn’t nearly as painful as the shame. It was a different feeling from being struck by Jarvis.

“Your Highness! What are you!”

“Shut up.”

Bianca trembled with rage as she cut him off. Tod turned his reddened cheek to glance behind him, but not a single person came to his defense.

“I endured that humiliating marriage for the sake of this country, and you dare to disgrace me?”

It was as if arrows were flying from her eyes.

Seeing Bianca’s tightly drawn face, the Marchioness let out a quiet sigh and gently wrapped her arms around the princess’s shoulders.

“You’ll ruin your beautiful face. Please compose yourself. It was my failure—I should have raised him with even greater severity, considering his lowly blood.”

“Yes. You made a grave mistake. You should’ve educated him properly!”

With that, Bianca shoved the Marchioness aside and stormed out of the parlor. Then she loaded the luggage she had prepared in advance and left straight for the Imperial Palace.

Hiding behind a large statue, Irynsis quietly slipped away from the parlor doorway, her footsteps silent.

‘If Cassion had seen that scene, he would’ve liked the gift even more.’

There had never been a time when she appreciated the princess’s nasty temper as much as this.

Time was tight and the pressure had been suffocating—but now, she could breathe a little easier.

‘This should be enough to turn the emperor’s stomach.’

The angrier the emperor became, the better.

The more furious he was, the further he’d distance himself from Cambria. As long as the emperor looked the other way, she would be safe— even if she escaped the grip of Cambria and the crown prince.

“Better too much than too little.”

That was exactly why she had asked Cassion to buy her a newspaper company.

They would have to fight on many fronts going forward. And the media would be a battleground where losing wasn’t an option—so she needed a weapon prepared in advance.

Her mind raced, thinking of how to provoke the emperor even more—specifically using Cambria’s name.

At that same moment.

Jubin was losing his mind over Cassion’s antics, watching him march into a shady back-alley money launderer’s office at dawn.

Then, seeing him add his own funds to a pile of suspicious money they uncovered and proceed to buy out the entire street where the newspaper offices were located, Jubin seriously tried to drag him to the hospital.

“If the gift pleased me this much, then it’s only right I offer something just as grand in return.”

That cryptic response was all he got. And the next words hammered in the final nail of Jubin’s despair.

“Stop pestering me and go answer the invitation for Clint.”

“What invitation?”

“I’ve decided to attend Cambria’s banquet.”

At that, Jubin immediately took off—not to find the butler Clint, but to visit the royal physician, Scarlett. Forget courtesy—he shouted using the title he used back when they were kids.

“Sis! I think His Grace is seriously ill!”

Thinking Cassion had succumbed to the plague, Scarlett ran about in a panic, still in her nightclothes. But when Cassion returned shortly after, perfectly fine, she collapsed in utter exhaustion.

For a while after that, Jubin couldn’t even speak to her.

And so, Cassion walked into Cambria—a place he’d sworn he’d never set foot in—of his own accord.

And he truly saw her again.

“Hey?”

The woman whose eyes burned coldly, like blue flames sealed in glass.

***

The grand banquet hall of the Cambria estate, said to rival even the Imperial Palace in splendor, had finally opened its doors.

During the social season, every noble house would host at least one grand banquet to flaunt its strength and prosperity. And so, an unspoken competition raged over who could throw the most splendid ball.

But no one could deny that Cambria stood at the top of that game.

Beneath the dazzling glow of crystal chandeliers, waves of joy flowed throughout the hall. Guests strolled about exchanging pleasantries, until, at some point, all eyes turned to one spot.

“It’s Lady Cambria!”

“Oh my, Sir Herzen is escorting her!”

“A saintess and her holy knight—what a perfect pairing.”

Lomia was wrapped in a fiery red gown. Golden embroidery made her look like a blazing sun set aflame.

Standing firmly by her side was a knight sculpted like marble—Sir Laurel Herzen, known as the temple’s highest-ranking holy knight.

Trailing behind them was Irynsis, dressed in plain white, her face covered with a veil.

The eyes of the crowd sparkled at the sight.

Lomia detested the very sight of Irynsis—yet she grew extremely anxious if the girl wasn’t nearby. Because she knew all too well: her fame and status meant nothing without Irynsis by her side.

That’s why they always appeared together at banquets like these.

There was no telling when or where divine power might need to be displayed, and besides, Lomia enjoyed the praise she received as a saintess who lovingly kept even a foreign-born girl close.

In her first life, Irynsis had known all this—yet she kept silent and obeyed, threatened into submission by the marquis.

And on days like this, crowded and filled with people, Lomia would never let her out of sight.

The aristocrats of society, meanwhile, were always eager to tear into a ripe, juicy target.

“Once again, the esteemed Lady Cambria appears dressed in robes of repentance.”

Most who approached Lomia to deepen their social ties would pretend to console Irynsis while actually mocking her.

Everyone knew about the attire of the foreign-born adopted daughter of House Cambria—Always in plain white satin, no matter the season, her long hair and face covered with a veil, revealing only the space below her nose.

The white robes and veil were symbols of sin.

Taking in a wicked foreigner against the will of the gods was one thing, but dressing her in white and veiling her face was a statement—that she was still too shameful to be presented before the world or the divine.

Saintess Lomia often said she prayed daily that her dear sister might someday wash away the sins of her impure bloodline and stand fully before the gods.

By sheer fortune, Irynsis—though of lowly foreign birth—had been registered into House Cambria, and in a single day, her status rose above most nobles.

And so, envy always followed her.

Even though she had never once wished for any of it.

One noblewoman approached, making no effort to hide her displeasure. She snapped her fan against her palm, irritation plain on her face.

The heavy scent of perfume made Irynsis feel as though she’d choke.

That woman had always played the sycophant in past lives, eager to please Lomia—especially by being needlessly cruel to Irynsis.

“Breeding doesn’t change so easily.” 

The lady sneered as she drew closer. Irynsis’s fingers gently tightened around the glass of punch Lomia had handed her.

She’d always endured the insults in silence—but today, those biting words were a welcome sound.

They gave her the perfect excuse to act alone.

“Keep your shoulders straighter.”

The noblewoman’s fan struck Irynsis’s shoulder—and in that instant, Irynsis gladly doused her in the drink.

“Ahhh!”

A small commotion broke out.