The bracelet was said to be an heirloom passed down in the Grand Duke’s family. No wonder Karen, as commander of the knights, knew about it.

Selina quickly pushed down the questions that had risen in her mind and nodded toward her.

“Yes, that’s right.”

“I thought so. It’s exactly the same as the bracelet Calix showed me when we were young.”

But as if to mock Selina’s attempt to leave it at that, Karen began reminiscing about her memories with Calix.

“The late Grand Duchess used to wear this bracelet, and it was so beautiful. So I asked Calix about it, and he told me it was meant for the person he would marry in the future. When I said I thought it was lovely, he actually told me he’d give it to me someday.”

Karen spoke of her childhood with Calix as if recalling a lighthearted, amusing memory.

“At the time, I really believed it would be mine. I’m sure Calix thought so too.”

She trailed off, as though neither of them could have foreseen how things would change. Her expression held an indescribable mix of emotions.

For a moment, Selina felt like an obstacle that had rolled in and wedged itself between the two of them. If it hadn’t been for her, this bracelet would likely have gone to its intended owner—Karen—by now.

Would such a noble piece of jewelry have shone even more brightly then?

‘Surely it would look far better on her than on me.’

The thought brought a wave of queasiness to the knot already tightening in her chest.

All she wanted now was to end the conversation and be alone in silence.

“This is moonstone, my lady. Regular moonstones have a silver glow, you know? But this one holds a unique magic, passed down only in the House of Silas.”

Karen, apparently oblivious to Selina’s discomfort, made a point of sharing more about the bracelet.

The words barely sank in.

“This is something Calix—ah, I mean, His Grace—told me. The light of this gem changes depending on the condition of the Silas heir.”

What reached Selina’s ears was not the information itself, but the way Karen addressed Calix—saying his name first, then correcting herself to His Grace, over and over.

Such slips could only mean they had been on familiar terms since childhood.

Noticing that Selina, lost in thought, had given no response, Karen asked,

“My lady, hasn’t His Grace told you the story of the bracelet?”

Selina met Karen’s gaze, her own eyes wide.

It was the look of someone who couldn’t quite believe the Grand Duchess herself didn’t know something she assumed was common knowledge.

When Selina failed to answer, Karen finally put on an apologetic expression.

“I’m sorry, I think I misspoke.”

Then, still calling him by name, she spoke as though she knew Calix’s heart better than anyone.

“I suppose Calix just hasn’t been able to tell you yet.”

But hasn’t been able to tell you yet sounded to Selina as if it meant: As the marquis’s daughter, you’re not someone he would want to share the story behind this bracelet with.

“…That could be true.”

“My apologies, my lady. What I meant was—”

“My lady!”

Just then, someone called out to Karen.

“Your mother says you are to change clothes at once. There’s no time to be standing around here!”

“Oh no, it’s my governess. My lady, I’m afraid I must go.”

As she approached the woman she called her governess, Karen turned back once more to Selina and bowed.

“I truly am sorry, my lady. Please don’t think twice about what I said.”

But Selina couldn’t bring herself to return the farewell.

When Karen disappeared, leaving her completely alone, Selina clasped her hands tightly together.

At least one thing she could identify with certainty—the emotion swelling inside her.

It was envy.

A tangled mix of unease at having pushed her way into a place she had no right to, and longing for what others had that she never would.

At first, she had only felt sorry, as if she had stolen Karen’s place. But that had slowly shifted into envy.

Karen was someone who had grown up happy, unlike herself.

She even seemed to know Calix better than anyone—better than Selina ever could.

‘Was it a place I was never meant to belong in from the start?’

Any resentment she now felt toward Karen came down to that envy—envy of someone who had everything she lacked, someone who seemed to radiate the air of a woman cherished and loved from head to toe.

Selina slowly closed her eyes.

A wave of crushing fatigue and disappointment in herself washed over her.

‘It was never my place to begin with. You know that.’

Yes, she had known it even before coming to Thalia.

But no matter how much she had acknowledged it in her mind, learning the story of the bracelet and the history between those two still hurt.

Crouching down, she murmured quietly,

“If I just stay quietly out of sight, and someday when the time comes…”

From the start, Selina had wanted to fulfill her duty to the position she had been given.

Though she had no confidence she could excel as the Grand Duchess, she had at least resolved to do her best—not to bring any harm to Calix.

But now, thinking back, she wondered what meaning that really had.

If it had never been her place to begin with…

If that were so, then perhaps, when the time came, she could simply disappear—quietly, like foam vanishing without a sound.

If she could find a way to free herself from the marquis’s trap without causing Calix any harm…

Then she could disappear in peace.

Meanwhile, after Selina left the ballroom—

The air around Calix had sunk cold, like the icy peaks of Thalia’s mountains, biting at the skin.

Rocheste and Alter glanced at him anxiously, while Zenfri and Viktor wore the calm expressions of men who had known this moment was inevitable.

“Sir Libero.”

The man who had misspoken—just newly promoted to vice-captain in his early thirties—froze.

At the sound of his name from Calix, he bowed his head deeply, his face pale with fear.

“M-my apologies, Your Grace. I forgot, unintentionally, that my lady was present and spoke out of turn…”

“I know well your heart for Thalia. Your father fought for Thalia with the same conviction.”

Calix stepped forward and laid a hand on Libero’s shoulder.

There was a smile on his lips, enough that, at a glance, he didn’t seem angry.

‘Perhaps His Grace, though unable to show it in front of everyone, has disliked the marquis’s daughter all along…’

With a flicker of anticipation, Libero spoke.

“I—I think every soldier of Thalia shares my dislike for the Empire. My father also gave his life defending Thalia from them. I still can’t forget the outrage of that time—”

“Your father died protecting you.”

But Calix tightened the hand resting on his shoulder, correcting him.

“He fell in battle because you, in your eagerness to make a name for yourself, put yourself in danger—and he tried to save you.”

“If the Imperial Army hadn’t invaded, that would never have happened.”

“True. I want peace for Thalia as well. But…”

Straightening Libero’s collar, Calix lowered his voice to a murmur.

“If the Imperial army hadn’t invaded, you wouldn’t even have a place here.”

Libero had no reply to that. Their rise from obscurity had only been possible because they had fought hard to distinguish themselves in the war with Thalia.

“I respect your efforts. But if you let loyalty outrun your grasp of the situation…”

…your father, who died to save you, would grieve.

Calix gave his shoulder a few light pats and smiled faintly.

“So make sure you don’t repeat a mistake like this again.”

Libero understood the hidden meaning instantly. Calix knew that he hadn’t spoken carelessly; his words were a deliberate insult to the Marquis, disguised as an innocent slip of the tongue intended to offend Selina.

Nevertheless, Calix’s warning to avoid such ‘mistakes’ in future meant only one thing: if Libero tried it again, there would be no leniency.

“…Yes. I’ll remember that, Your Grace.”

With a deep bow, Libero withdrew, trembling, along with his men.

“Our terrifying Grand Duke—coming down so hard over one little mistake.”

Karen narrowed her eyes playfully, giving Calix a light jab.

But Calix didn’t even glance at her. His reply came in a voice chilled to the bone.

“Sir Karen. You’d do well not to overstep yourself, either.”

“…What?”

“I can’t overlook your rudeness forever just because you’re a childhood friend.”

With a graceful narrowing of his eyes, Calix gave Karen a warning before heading toward the other nobles of Thalia.

Karen, her face flushed, stared down at the floor in apparent discomfiture, while Rocheste only grinned as if he found the whole thing amusing.

“See? Our Grand Duke treats everyone equally!”

Only Alter, ever oblivious and devoted to Calix, clasped his hands tightly as he gazed at Calix’s retreating back.

Before long, Calix was once again holding his place reserved for the Grand Duke when—

Slide—

Selina quietly came to sit beside him.

“Finished everything you had to do?”

Knowing full well she had left because she felt uncomfortable, Calix nonetheless feigned ignorance to match her mood.

“Ah, yes… it’s all finished.”

Selina gave an awkward nod with a faint smile.

Her voice still didn’t sound at ease, and he wondered if something had happened while she was away. Turning his head, Calix’s eyes fell on her wrist—bare now where something had been before.