Somehow, Ian managed to get rid of all those people making a commotion in front of the mansion. I wondered what had happened, but I got the details from Benjamin, who had come to deliver a replica of the video stone he’d completed.

“So, you let him loose, didn’t you?”

“What?”

“That guy was totally thrilled. He suddenly appeared at the club, walked up to some guy, and then…”

Benjamin burst out laughing, coughing as he choked on his own laughter. I grew impatient.

“So, what did Ian do?”

“He went up to some guy and just handed him a letter.”

“A letter?”

I remembered Ian asking if he could take the unopened letters, and I had allowed it, wondering if he really planned to read them all.

“Yeah, the guy took it, and his face turned pale. When he asked why he was being given the letter, Ian, with that trademark smug look of his, just said one word: ‘Return.'”

“….”

“Then, one by one, he tracked down each guy and returned the letters with the same courtesy. I thought I’d die laughing. At one point, some guy had the nerve to ask him if he wasn’t embarrassed doing this. Looking annoyed, Ian patted his pockets as if searching for something and asked if he could have a glove sent over by parcel, you know, by the next day.”

“To challenge him to a duel?”

“Of course. But the fool said he was an only son, so I was left speechless. I mean, if he’d accepted the duel challenge, at least I’d have respected his courage.”

In Cadia, where chivalry is revered, the reputation of being a coward is a serious blemish on any nobleman’s honor. Even so, Ian’s duel challenge must have scared him.

“Living in Laran and then coming to Cadia, the high society here is pathetic. All talk, like little girls, and barely any true bravery among them. Do I really have to get into politics with this lot?”

Benjamin seemed to hold to the common belief of men in this era that dueling was a means of preserving honor, but honestly, I found it a bit foolish, having lived in the modern world.

From what Phillip told me, Ian had never actually killed anyone in a duel. He probably just wanted the loudmouths to shut up, not to avenge any insult.

“Anyway, he only acted because you looked exhausted from handling it all yourself. So he told those guys to send any love letters meant for you through me. No worries there.”

“Won’t that just make things bothersome for you?”

“Bothersome? It’s only right. After all, they’d need my permission to marry you anyway.”

I couldn’t understand why Benjamin seemed to find this situation so amusing. But he looked pleased, all the same. I guess those hoping to marry me would now need to approach him, a newly minted Count. Maybe it could even help him gain some votes in parliament. Benjamin seemed to have become quite the politician.

To my surprise, the first person to make a public stance on the matter was Celia. She hosted a formal gathering of noblewomen and openly expressed regret over the recent regrettable incidents. She didn’t miss the chance to call out several ladies by name, urging them to keep their families in check to uphold proper decorum.

With the Empress herself telling the ladies to keep their sons in line, things naturally quieted down. I felt a bit embarrassed, but it was nice to feel favored by the Empress.

Thanks to her intervention, the nuisance was gone, but my name appeared in the papers again, as Theodore had filed a lawsuit against everyone involved in leaking the reasons for our divorce. It was surprising how he managed to round up all involved parties in just a few days, not weeks.

If Ian or I had taken action, we might have faced accusations of abusing power to silence the press. However, the public felt sympathy for Theodore, who, as a humble lawyer barely employed after six months, appealed to the court, pleading his case.

A few representatives in the lower house who had previously benefited from Theodore’s help even submitted letters to the papers, explaining why he’d been out of work for so long.

“Even if they had political motives, at least it’s been helpful,” I said, handing Ian the newspaper. Recently, my popularity had soared not only in society but also among the public. So, it was natural that politicians would want to align with me. Ian smiled as he replied.

“It’s working out well. The lower house representatives have been cautious, trying to stay neutral until now, but we might be able to sway them to our side with this.”

My intent was simply to warn those who had leaked my documents, but we ended up giving Theodore a chance to showcase his past as a defender of the downtrodden.

Incidentally, it seemed Ian was benefiting from all this as well. Not only was my image unscathed, but the incident made me appear even more praiseworthy. Since I had, apparently, recognized poor Theodore’s value and entrusted him with the job, I was now seen as a forgiving person despite the document leak.

“Benjamin was the one who recommended him, so I don’t know why I’m the one being praised like this.”

“Well, it was you who chose Theodore out of the three Benjamin suggested, wasn’t it?”

“I really didn’t think much of it.”

“Really? I always worry that you think too much, Liv.”

Me? I… now that I think about it, I do worry quite a lot. I couldn’t find anything to argue back with, so I just stared at Ian blankly. He, on the other hand, looked pleased, his face still smiling.

“You always makes choices for everyone else, whether anyone notices or not…”

Could it be a lie to say that his quiet words meant more to me than a hundred praises? I was choked up, unable to respond. No one had ever said that to me before. My own choices had always been pushed aside for the sake of the greater good. And yet, no one ever seemed to notice.

So, this time, I’d decided to do something for myself. And to think it was so easy to receive praise—I actually found it unsettling.

Not that I’d made all my choices expecting recognition, but after putting in my best effort, I always had to bear the resentment alone.

Now, the outpouring of admiration felt almost like mockery of the way I’d struggled. But Ian’s gaze, his voice, seemed to tell me that even the old, foolish version of me was deserving of love.

I suddenly felt like I might cry, so I changed the topic.

“Do you think inviting these people to dinner might be helpful?”

“The House representatives?”

“Yes. I’d like to invite Theodore, too.”

“There’s no real need for that.”

Ian looked at me with concern, worried I was pushing myself to host all these people. In the past, I would’ve thought that supporting my husband’s political steps was part of being a good wife, even if it felt forced, but now I had a different feeling.

“I just thought they deserved a nice meal for doing a good job.”

I hosted a dinner, inviting Theodore and some House representatives. At the meal, I avoided any talk of Ian’s policy initiatives or politics in general. We shared stories of Theodore’s good deeds, memories of my late father, and unrelated topics. Perhaps the lack of pressure made them more at ease, as these representatives, tentatively, began supporting Ian.

While all this unfolded, I prepared to leave. Once I wrapped up my work on the estate, my retainers clamored to throw me a farewell party.

Having mostly gotten over my fear of parties, I agreed. I deliberately set the date for the night before my divorce. Besides the retainers, I invited nearly everyone who wanted to come, which meant that Keppel’s party hall couldn’t hold them all.

So, I decided to make use of the newly expanded garden. The Imperial Wizard Corps, who had been invited, eagerly offered to help set up the decorations, roaming the garden for days. Meanwhile, Betty, the singer, who had been invited to perform, practiced there daily, filling the place with music.

When the night finally arrived, I could only marvel at the results of all their efforts. Insisting on a night party had its reason. Isabella and her fellow mages had transformed the garden into something out of a fairytale. Softly glowing orbs floated, illuminating every corner. I admired the sight and asked,

“Is this one of the new magic items you’re developing?”

“Just a trial version.”

Isabella smiled wryly.

“I honestly don’t know what those ‘great’ wizards of Laran have been doing all this time. They never thought of creating such useful items. When I mentioned this to my mentor, you know what he said? ‘Why would we need magic lights? A servant could light a lamp.'”

Oh, is it because he’s from a country where wizards belong to the privileged class? It sounded like a very aristocratic thing to say. Isabella grumbled,

“Plus, he said magic responds to desires, and who’d have such a small desire as simply wanting to light a lamp? He just doesn’t understand that if you offer a lot of money, anyone would be eager to make magical lamps.”

“Well, if you offer the right pay, of course they’d do it.”

“Exactly. I knew the Duchess would get it.”

She looked almost moved.