The tea party held in the marquisate’s garden was quite grand in scale.

Because of the large number of attendees, small tables were placed throughout the area instead of gathering around a single long table. In the center, a renowned orchestra, invited for the occasion, played a gentle melody.

Aveline’s designated seat was a place of honor near the center. At a glance, it looked similar to the other tables, but subtle differences set it apart.

For example, the teapot’s gleaming gold plating, the silverware without a single scratch as if brand new, and the delicately crafted crystal vase.

The noble families of Mazengarve treated special guests by providing fine but discreetly luxurious items—noticeable only to those with a refined aesthetic sense.

“Good afternoon, ladies.”

Aveline greeted the noblewomen who had arrived before her. Every one of them was from a prestigious family that wielded great influence over the empire.

“Welcome, Lady Croeta.”

All of them greeted her with warm, benevolent smiles.

But that was all. After the formal pleasantries, the conversation failed to continue.

No matter how prominent Aveline was in high society, the most elite nobility still disapproved of her lineage, and when she wasn’t with Kazerre, they often disregarded her entirely.

Of course, Aveline was not the type to be intimidated by such things. She leaned back into her chair, composed and at ease, as if she were in the comfort of her own chambers.

People would come to her on their own anyway. Especially those from declining or lower-ranking families.

No matter how much they slandered her behind her back as some upstart of dubious origins, they could not ignore the influence of Aveline Croeta, the soon-to-be Duchess of Evuteren.

No matter how much the noblewomen at the table resented her presence, they could not simply drive her away.

As expected, people soon began to gather around her in small groups.

“The floral ornament is lovely, Lady Croeta.”

One of the noblewomen who came to greet her complimented the flower tucked into Aveline’s hair. Aveline smiled nonchalantly as she replied.

“It’s an anabel that His Grace gifted me, regretting that he could not accompany me today. It seemed a shame to leave it unused.”

“My, how thoughtful of him.”

It was a well-known story in high society that the Duke of Evuteren would send flowers whenever he couldn’t accompany his fiancée to a social gathering.

Procuring fresh, fully bloomed flowers daily required both wealth and effort. In the empire, decorating a residence exclusively with fresh flowers rather than artificial ones was considered a measure of the host’s wealth and status.

Moreover, the flowers Aveline wore so indifferently were all either extremely difficult to cultivate or expensive exotic varieties.

So naturally, whenever she adorned herself with such rare and costly flowers, it drew admiration and envy.

That was precisely the illusion she had carefully cultivated.

The lie that “Kazerre Evuteren was deeply attentive to Aveline Croeta” served as a clever illusion that counteracted the indifference he occasionally showed her.

Even if he wasn’t good at expressing it, he was a man of profound depth—and in that depth, there was room for no one but Aveline Croeta.

‘Kazerre must have heard about it, too.’

There was no way he hadn’t. Any socialite worth their name was aware of the story.

Yet, Kazerre never bothered to correct her lie. Nor did he actually send her flowers.

And so, Aveline’s lie remained a lie.

Was that kindness or neglect?

For Aveline, his silence was fortunate, but sometimes she wondered—what if he had exposed her deception?

‘If we had been forced to break and rebuild, then perhaps…’

‘Would things have been different?’

Worse, most likely.

But maybe—just maybe—it could have been better than this.

Either way, the possibility of change had been completely cut off. Kazerre always met her with indifference under the guise of patience. And so, Aveline, too, remained in place, unmoving.

At times, it gave her the ominous feeling that they might stay this way forever.

‘No. That’s not true. We are fate.’

‘You are my fate, and I am yours—so there’s no way we’ll remain like this forever.’

‘Someday, you will understand my heart. And in time, your heart will become the same as mine.’

Just as she was soothing the storm rising in her chest—

“Lady Croeta, it’s been a while.”

A noblewoman approached Aveline, acknowledging her with familiarity.

Aveline quickly gathered herself and greeted her with an especially bright smile. Now was not the time to get lost in useless thoughts.

“It has been a while, Countess Gruner. I haven’t seen you around lately.”

“I visited my hometown for a while. Ah, and this here is my distant niece. She has just arrived in the capital with me. Introduce yourself.”

“Hello. I am Clonay of the Huster Viscountcy.”

Aveline’s eyes gleamed like a serpent eyeing its prey.

Clonay Huster. She was the purpose and reason Aveline had come here today.

On the day she received the invitation, she had ordered Anika to find out the guest list, specifically to confirm whether Clonay would be attending.

Aveline remembered it clearly. The two figures who had clung together as if they would never separate unless she called them. Kazerre’s gentle voice and his kind greeting.

Things that were never permitted to Clonay Huster.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Lady Huster.”

Aveline spoke with effortless politeness, scrutinizing Clonay closely.

Dull light brown hair as unimpressive as withered leaves, murky dark green eyes, a plain and unremarkable appearance, a neat yet utterly boring posture…

There was nothing about her worth noticing.

And yet, all of it irritated her to no end. As if sharp needles were pricking at her nerves.

However, unlike her inner thoughts, Aveline put on a warm smile. Her expression was so serene and gentle that no one could have guessed at the filth lurking beneath.

“Why don’t you sit down for a while before you go?”

At Aveline’s suggestion, Clonay’s eyes widened. The Countess of Gruner, who had introduced her, also seemed taken aback.

But Aveline continued speaking as if she didn’t notice.

“As you can see, there’s no one my age here. I’d appreciate it if you could keep me company.”

“I appreciate the generous offer, but…”

Clonay trailed off, her eyes darting nervously.

Even in the distant Huster estate at the empire’s easternmost edge, news of Aveline Croeta had reached her ears.

A beauty blessed by the gods, the protagonist of a prophecy that had shaken the world, and…

‘The fiancée of the Duke of Evuteren…’

Clonay recalled the night she had encountered Kazerre.

The crisp summer air, the full moon casting a soft glow over the darkness, and the man’s violet eyes reflecting the pale moonlight.

That beautiful man’s fiancée was now smiling at her.

At that moment, something inside her stirred, bubbling up like water just before it boils.

Before she could even identify the tangled emotions roiling inside her, Clonay wanted to escape. She found it oddly uncomfortable to meet Aveline’s gaze.

But she was merely the daughter of a minor viscount’s house, while Aveline was soon to become the Duchess of Evuteren. Refusing such an invitation for no apparent reason would be a great discourtesy to her aunt, who had introduced her.

In the end, Clonay turned to the Countess of Gruner and quietly asked,

“Would that be all right, Aunt?”

“Of course. The young lady seems to be in need of company, so keep her entertained.”

“Yes, thank you.”

The Countess of Gruner, looking expectant, gave Clonay a gentle push on the back before walking away. Having unexpectedly secured a seat at the high table, Clonay straightened her back and forced an awkward smile.

Yet, no matter how much time passed, Aveline did not say a single word to her.

After requesting her company, she now acted as if Clonay didn’t even exist.

The other noblewomen at the table occasionally glanced at her before turning away again.

Having just arrived in the capital, Clonay didn’t realize that this was a classic display of high society’s unspoken territorial games.

“Lady Croeta.”

Eventually, unable to wait any longer, Clonay cautiously addressed Aveline.

Aveline, who had been savoring her tea, slowly set down her teacup. Only after a long pause did she turn her gaze toward Clonay.

Her lips maintained the same elegant curve as when she had so graciously invited her to sit.

“What is it, Lady Huster?”

“Ah, well…”

Clonay, who was usually known for her composure, suddenly found herself stumbling over her words.

Aveline’s smile remained as beautiful as ever, yet for some reason, watching it sent a chilling emptiness through her heart, like a barren wasteland.

‘Am I just being too sensitive?’

Was it her discomfort with Aveline that made her feel uneasy?

Indeed, Aveline was unlike anyone Clonay had ever interacted with before.

A socialite of the highest order, a noblewoman raised amid the latest trends of the capital, an aristocrat both glamorous and refined. A woman who stood beside that remarkable man as if they were a perfect painting…

Clonay inadvertently thought of Kazerre and quickly forced the image from her mind. Then, she reached for the safest topic floating in her head.

“Lady Croeta, you’ve seen me before, haven’t you?”

Only after she spoke did she realize it was a rather odd question in the current situation.

But it wasn’t exactly inappropriate, so she continued naturally.

“During His Highness the Crown Prince’s birthday banquet, I nearly fell. The Duke of Evuteren happened to help me, and at that moment, a lady arrived looking for him.”

“……”

“It was too dark to be certain, but I thought it might have been you, Lady Croeta.”

“It was me.”

“Oh, I thought so.”

Clonay let out a small sigh, her voice tinged with bitterness. Even she was surprised at how forlorn she sounded.

Hurriedly, as if to cover it up, she added,

“I thought so back then as well, but the two of you truly suit each other.”

Her heart ached a little as she said it, but she meant it sincerely.

When they stood together, they were perfect, leaving no room for anything—or anyone—else.

But whether her sincerity had been lost, or whether something else had been exposed instead, Aveline’s once flawless smile slowly twisted.

“Oh, Lady Huster. You really don’t know your place, do you?”