At balls and all gatherings, people occasionally encountered others wearing similar outfits.

In such cases, tradition dictated that the person of lower status or younger age would retreat to the powder room or leave early.

But when the relationship between the two was strained or competitive, simply avoiding each other wouldn’t resolve the issue.

Questions about who copied whom or whether dress information had been leaked could escalate into an endless undercurrent of conflict.

In this situation, Anaïs was clearly the one in trouble. Her opponent was none other than the Emperor herself. Without the Emperor’s generous forgiveness, there was no telling what might happen.

The nobles rolled their eyes and belatedly bowed.

This was the proper etiquette to be maintained from when the Emperor entered until she reached the throne.

Daphne bowed while watching Leonhardt and Anaïs, whose mouths had fallen open in shock at the sight of the Emperor.

No matter who they were, no one would dare leave while the Emperor was entering. Only after Leonhardt patted Anaïs’s back with a dismayed expression did she bow in respect.

Daphne struggled to contain her laughter. She eagerly anticipated when the Emperor would notice the dress similar to her own.

Even long after sufficient time had passed for the Emperor to walk to the throne, there was no command for everyone to raise their heads.

People who had been bowing deeply began slightly turning their heads left and right to gauge the situation before the Emperor finally ordered them to lift their heads.

They discovered the Emperor hadn’t even sat on the throne but was glaring at one spot in the Small Ballroom. Everyone knew where her gaze was directed without having to look.

“Bring them here.”

At the Emperor’s command, the chief chamberlain turned around with a slightly stiffened face. She added:

“Both of them.”

The Emperor pointed with her chin at Leonhardt, who had coordinated his formal attire to match Anaïs’s color.

Unlike Leonhardt’s dismayed expression, Anaïs collected herself and fidgeted with the orange gemstone on her necklace. Her slightly trembling fingers revealed her desperate desire to escape this crisis.

But it seemed quite futile.

Another attendant approached the Emperor and reported in a low voice:

“They entered together, Your Majesty.”

Though not explicitly stated, the sentiment “deliberately” was clearly implied.

Setting aside the fact that Leonhardt belonged to the noble faction, he had committed such disrespect toward Daphne, whom the Emperor favored. This seemed unlikely to be overlooked.

The Emperor stared at the pair with an expression as cold as the winter wind.

Anaïs’s dress was densely covered with diamonds on the bodice, gradually becoming sparser toward the bottom, creating the effect of jewels naturally cascading down from above.

In contrast, the Emperor’s dress had diamonds densely set only around the neckline.

To any observer, the Emperor appeared outshined.

After a heavy silence, the Emperor spoke:

“Young Duke Mücke.”

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

“You must be quite wealthy.”

Leonhardt couldn’t respond to the Emperor’s aggressive remark.

“It seems the impoverished Emperor should serve the young duke’s mistress.”

“…Your Majesty, that was absolutely not my intention.”

“Then was your intention to break Daphne by resorting to such childish tactics? I know Marquis Werner somewhat, and he’s not one to overlook such disrespect.”

Leonhardt had nothing to say even if he had ten mouths. He bowed his head deeper and awaited judgment.

The Emperor snorted in disbelief and said:

“What on earth is Duke Gustav doing?”

If he hadn’t known his son would cause such trouble, he was incompetent; if he knew and allowed it, the situation was even more serious. Either way, the disgrace to House Mücke was certain.

This also implied she would leave their punishment to Gustav.

Just as the Emperor was about to dismiss them with a contemptuous wave of her hand—

Anaïs, who had kept her head bowed until now, looked directly at the Emperor. The stare was so blatant that it would have made anyone uncomfortable, even if they weren’t the Emperor.

Leonhardt was startled and tried to stop her with hand gestures. When he glanced at the Emperor to gauge her reaction, something seemed amiss.

The Emperor’s eyes had become hazy, as if empty. She stared blankly at Anaïs with a dazed expression.

Bewitched.

That was the word that came to mind.

Leonhardt turned to Anaïs in surprise. The gemstone on her necklace was glowing unusually bright.

It seemed to be emitting its own light rather than merely reflecting the surrounding illumination.

Just as Leonhardt blinked several times to reassess the situation—

The doorkeeper at the entrance announced an unexpected name:

“His Highness Grand Duke Kartun Schwiers and Dame Margrit Schwiers!”

With Kartun staying in the capital during the Founding Day celebrations, his attendance at the ball was no surprise.

What caught people’s attention was the person announced alongside him.

Dame Margrit Schwiers.

She had been a renowned warrior who once roamed the Forest of Sleeping Monsters and was the first female knight to receive a title in the Empire. She was also Kartun’s mother.

After the death of her husband, the previous Grand Duke, she had gone into seclusion. Her period of isolation had been so long that rumors of her death had circulated.

So when her name was announced, all eyes that had been fixed on Leonhardt’s disgraceful display turned toward the entrance.

Soon, Kartun entered the ballroom escorting a middle-aged woman.

Daphne doubted her eyes.

‘Margo?’

The woman entering with Kartun was Margo Eckhart, whom she had met at the dress shop.

‘Margo could be a nickname, but why did they announce a different surname?’

Unlike Daphne, who couldn’t take her eyes off Margo, everyone else was staring at Kartun.

Contrary to the unsavory rumors spread among the imperial nobles—that he was an uncouth person who only dealt with monsters, even eating their hearts—he was remarkably impressive.

His outstanding physique, which would stand out anywhere, enhanced his sophisticated formal attire, and despite his young age of twenty-three, he exuded a solemn expression and atmosphere.

His face made the term “handsome” seem mundane.

Kartun and Margo approached the Emperor.

However, Leonhardt and Anaïs, who had not yet been dismissed, were still standing in the place where one would normally pay respects to the Emperor.

Kartun’s gaze moved toward the two and stopped at the necklace Anaïs was wearing. A flash of deep anger crossed his expression.

Crack!

The brilliantly shining orange gemstone fractured into pieces and dropped to the floor with a clatter.

At that moment, the Emperor, who had been staring blankly at Anaïs, blinked in slight surprise.

Focus returned to the Emperor’s hazy eyes. Only then did she realize that Kartun had entered.

The Emperor looked anew at Leonhardt and Anaïs, who were still standing there, and reproached them as if wondering why they were still present.

Anaïs, extremely flustered, picked up the fallen gemstone fragments and quickly disappeared.

Leonhardt followed, but Anaïs rejected even his company and entered the ladies’ powder room.

With the commotion they had caused now settled, Kartun and Margo paid their respects to the Emperor.

“I am most pleased that you both have attended and graced this occasion.”

The Emperor welcomed them warmly. Though this was clearly directed only at Margo.

“I have read of your exploits in the history books. It is moving to meet such a hero in person.”

Margo expressed her gratitude for the Emperor’s hospitality.

“I am merely an old woman who can no longer wield a sword, so I’ve been resting and leaving everything to my son.”

She was exactly sixty years old this year.

With Kartun being twenty-three, she had borne a child at a very late age. She had spent that much time as a battle-hardened veteran on the battlefield. Yet her posture remained perfectly straight without any hint of stooping, making her appear no older than fifty.

Upon retirement, Margo had chosen seclusion, leaving her past fame behind.

She had laid down her weap*ns, but her power remained intact. If she wished, she could lead knights loyal to her and defeat monsters at any moment.

This also meant that if she decided to, she could turn her sword against the Empire. For this reason, the Empire both needed and constantly guarded against the Grand Ducal family.

Margo had gone into seclusion to prevent unnecessary suspicions from falling on Kartun.

She understood well that having a mother revered as a hero beside an uncle who was too strong compared to the young Emperor would only add to misunderstandings.

The surprise at the forgotten hero’s appearance was short-lived, as people’s expressions began to grow complicated.

The capital was already tense enough with just Kartun’s presence. Now his mother had emerged from seclusion as well. Suspicions about what the mother and son might be aiming for spread like wildfire.

The throne.

The noble faction resented Gustav’s unusual tardiness today, while the imperial faction trembled with anxiety at Werner’s absence.

Kartun and Margo had frozen the Empire’s political scene with their mere appearance.