As the carriage rattled along, Ariel could not shake the memory of one particular remark that had lingered in her mind. 

It had been three days since the Tower Master’s intervention had brought much-needed financial relief to the Marquis’ household. 

Determined to clear her father’s name, Ariel had worked tirelessly on the case, following every possible lead. 

She sought out nobles who had been close to her father, asking if they had noticed anything unusual around him at the time, or if anyone might have held a grudge against him. 

Most of the nobles refused to meet with her, and those who did offered little more than apologies, claiming they knew nothing and regretted not being able to help. 

Almost all of them, however, mentioned the Grand Duke. 

After all, the most influential figure in her life was Kylance Seyerd, the Grand Duke. 

Some even hinted subtly, as if testing the waters: Was her relationship with the Grand Duke really over? 

It was inevitable. At first, the focus had been solely on the broken engagement and the downfall of the Marquis of Blante, but people’s curiosity soon took over. 

They couldn’t help but wonder if the connection between Ariel and the Grand Duke – a story worthy of a bard’s song – had really come to an end. 

To such people, Ariel made her position clear. 

She firmly stated that her relationship with His Highness the Grand Duke was completely over and that there was nothing left between them. 

Of course, her firm stance only caused the nobles to distance themselves further from her affairs. 

Even if His Majesty had no intention of completely eliminating the Marquis of Blante’s household, it was clear that their recovery was all but impossible. 

Still, Ariel couldn’t bring herself to fabricate a connection with Kylance, to pretend that there was still something between them. 

She really wanted nothing more to do with him. 

“Tell His Highness the Grand Duke this: Never bother with the Marquis of Blante again. I don’t need his help.” 

She had already delivered that message herself. 

But despite her determination, Kylance Seyerd remained an inescapable presence in her life. 

Wherever she went, people didn’t see her as Ariel of the Marquis of Blante. 

To them, she was forever the former fiancée of the Grand Duke Seyerd – a tragic title that seemed impossible to shake. 

“A stubborn bond… no, a cursed one.”

Ariel took a deep breath, lifting her head from where it rested against the wall and straightening her posture. 

She needed to focus. 

Though three days had passed with no progress, she couldn’t afford to falter now. 

As she had expected, His Majesty seemed unwilling to completely eliminate the Marquis’ household. Everything had been put on hold for the time being. Only two days ago, even the investigation had come to a halt. 

While the Emperor pondered the extent of the Marquis’ punishment, Ariel had to act. She had to find even the smallest shred of evidence or a single witness to clear her father’s name. 

It was clear that she couldn’t get any help or information from the nobles, so she had to change her approach. 

According to the butler, there were no nobles who had openly clashed with her father or held grudges against him prior to the treason charges. 

Nor had her father shown any unusual behaviour. 

The butler had also stressed that no suspicious persons or unfamiliar faces had ever been allowed into the Marquis’ household. 

If that was true… then her father had been accused of treason in a situation he couldn’t possibly have foreseen. 

Ariel’s forehead furrowed in frustration. 

The more she thought about it, the more daunting it seemed to uncover the truth behind the case. 

To make matters worse, she had been at the Grand Duke’s residence at the time of the incident and knew almost nothing about what had happened. 

Where had things gone so wrong? 

Ariel felt completely adrift, unsure of how to even begin to unravel the tangled threads of this seemingly insoluble mystery. 

At that moment, a long forgotten memory resurfaced – words someone had spoken to her years ago. 

“Ariel, there will be times in your life when overwhelming grief strikes without warning. But remember, nothing in this world lasts forever. Even grief will come to an end.” 

“Really?” 

“Yes. When you’re older, if you ever face anything unexpectedly difficult, come to me. I’ll do everything I can to help you so that your sadness doesn’t linger.” 

These words came from her mother’s close friend who had comforted her as she cried at her mother’s funeral. 

This woman was now the headmistress of the Rembleu Academy, the most prestigious institution in the Empire. 

An academy that all nobles, even members of the Imperial family, were required to attend. 

Founded by the first emperor, the academy wielded immense influence – and so did its headmistress. 

If anyone could help her, it might be her. 

She had an extensive network of connections and probably held some sway with His Majesty. 

After three days, a glimmer of hope returned to Ariel’s eyes. But it didn’t last long and she hesitated. 

“It’s been so many years…” 

Since she had last seen her. In fact, the funeral had been the first and only time they had met. 

Though she had promised to help Ariel if she was ever in need, Ariel couldn’t be sure if that promise still held true. Perhaps it had been nothing more than words meant to comfort a grieving child who had just lost her mother. 

The uncertainty clouded Ariel’s mind and made her pause. 

“Still… she’s my best chance right now.”

Even if the headmistress refused to see her, she had to knock on the door. There was no time to be held back by fear of rejection. 

‘Tomorrow I’ll go to the Academy.’

Ariel had made her decision, and for some reason it felt different this time – almost hopeful. 

The Headmistress’s steady gaze at the funeral had left a lasting impression. It was that unwavering gaze that had somehow helped Ariel to stop crying. 

It was a memory she hadn’t recalled in years, but now that it had surfaced, it was remarkably clear. 

Feeling a little lighter, Ariel pushed open the carriage’s tightly closed window. 

As the vibrant landscape outside came into view, her gaze fell on a large shop that drew ever closer. 

Prouanchelle Bakery, the most famous bakery in the capital. 

She used to visit it often – their strawberry tarts were absolutely divine. 

It had once been a weekly treat for her, but she hadn’t had one since her father’s incident. Neither the mood nor the circumstances had allowed for such indulgences. 

But today, perhaps because of the faint optimism stirring within her, she suddenly found herself craving the cake she had almost forgotten. 

‘Something sweet might give me a bit more energy.’

She opened the small window that led to the coachman’s seat. 

“Stop at the bakery.”

As the carriage came to a halt, Ariel got out and made her way to the bakery. 

True to its reputation as the capital’s most famous dessert shop, the area was lined with opulent carriages of the nobility. 

The bakery had always catered to the aristocracy. Its sumptuous desserts were far too expensive for commoners to afford. 

“Welcome,” the manager greeted her with a deep bow as she entered. 

Ariel approached the display case and pointed to the strawberry tart. 

“One strawberry tart, please. Wrap it up for takeaway.”

The manager raised his head, but his expression changed to one of hesitation, as if something was wrong. 

“I’m terribly sorry, my lady, but the strawberry tart has already been reserved by another customer.” 

Ariel’s faint smile faded. She had been looking forward to treating herself to dessert, something she hadn’t done in a long time, now that her mood had lifted a little. 

But if it was already reserved, there was nothing to be done. Fighting back her disappointment, she replied, 

“Then I’ll reserve one for tomorrow. Please deliver a strawberry tart to the Marquis’s household by tomorrow morning”. 

But the manager didn’t reply immediately. Sensing something was wrong, Ariel looked up to see him looking visibly uncomfortable. 

What was this? 

Noticing the strange atmosphere, Ariel raised an eyebrow in suspicion. After a moment’s hesitation, the manager finally spoke, his tone apologetic. 

“My lady, I’m terribly sorry, but the strawberry tarts are… fully reserved for next month.” 

“Fully booked for a whole month? What do you mean…” 

“As you may know, my lady,” the manager began carefully, “our bakery produces only a limited quantity of premium desserts. As a result, we give priority to reservations from a select group of customers.” 

Ariel’s expression hardened at his words. The manager had just subtly implied that the Marquis of Blante was no longer the prestige she once was. 

While it was true that her family’s circumstances had deteriorated, to be so openly insulted in such a public place was infuriating. 

She could feel the weight of the other customers’ eyes on her. 

The faint sound of muffled laughter reached her ears, as if they were enjoying her humiliation, and what little good cheer she’d managed to regain sank completely. 

Even buying something as small as a dessert had become a challenge. 

She had long since accepted the need to swallow her pride, but she hadn’t expected to be humiliated over something so trivial. 

The expectant looks around her – watching, waiting for her to snap at the manager – made her feel deeply tired. 

No doubt they were hoping for a spectacle. 

‘Do they dare look down on the Marquis’ household?’ 

Still, Ariel had no intention of giving them the satisfaction they seemed to crave. The manager was, after all, just an employee carrying out orders from above. 

What stung was the growing realisation of how thoroughly she was being isolated, no matter how hard she tried to assert herself. 

‘I probably won’t be coming here again.‘

“Understood. I’ll make a reservation another time.”

Ariel said, keeping her voice as calm and steady as she could. 

Just as she was about to turn away, a hurried voice called out to her.