The count said awkwardly,

“But Lady Maude, this play is……”

The theater manager approached Maude. The manager, of course, knew all the names and faces of the VIP box seat patrons.

“Aren’t you Lady Maude Lovedale? It seems Lord Crimsworth didn’t come today?”

“No, instead Lord Goldenborough, Count Derek Farraway, brought us here.”

“Lord Goldenborough.” The manager bowed deeply to the party. “The play will begin shortly. Would you like some champagne sent up?”

Curious glances poured in from passing people. Bronwynner discreetly covered her face with her fan.

After a moment’s deliberation, the count said,

“Let’s go up for now. Lady Maude, Miss Pemberton, Helen.”

He must have concluded that it was better to slip out quietly during the play than to stand here attracting attention. Bronwynner agreed with this assessment.

* * *

The view of the theater from the box seats was incomparably majestic.

Bronwynner tried to appear composed with the opera glasses in hand. But she couldn’t help turning her head this way and that. Maude and Countess Windell accepted this as natural for someone who hadn’t been out for a long time.

“Miss Pemberton, if I were you, I’d sit further back.”

Count Farraway said. When she shrank back, thinking she had shown too much excitement, he added,

“The performance of those opera glasses is as excellent as a military telescope.”

This meant that others could examine her face and attire as if they were right in front of her. Buried in her chair, she returned to their earlier topic.

“So, what’s the problem with this play?”

The count whispered,

“Rumor has it that it’s an adaptation of a famous Rosvalt work.”

“Ah……”

After the war that had scorched parts of the territories of the two bordering countries, exchanges between the kingdom and Rosvalt were completely suspended, and Rosvalt’s cultural artifacts were prevented from entering the country. Rosvalt’s literary and artistic works were strictly prohibited, which ironically fueled artists’ desire for transgression.

Bronwynner had read in newspapers about Rosvalt literature—either from before the war or indirectly imported through other countries on the continent—being secretly translated and adapted into plays among the literate class.

The count’s voice dropped even lower,

“And it supposedly contains content satirizing the royal family.”

“How could such a work be staged in a theater?”

“Money. Whittingham nobles are obsessed with stimulation, and theaters will do anything that sells tickets.”

Indeed, hundreds of seats were filled without a single vacancy.

Just then, a slight commotion arose across from where they sat, in the box seats on the second floor. Since they had a view of both the stage and the audience, Bronwynner noticed it immediately.

Through the opera glass lenses, she saw several men in uniforms and one silver-haired young man dressed in similar but more splendid ceremonial attire entering the opposite box.

The young man looked as young as Jeremy and strangely familiar, though she couldn’t possibly have met someone who appeared so noble before.

Soon Bronwynner realized why.

Maude exclaimed softly,

“The crown prince has arrived! Miss Pemberton, that’s His Highness Prince Reginald.”

Before Bronwynner had a chance to observe the crown prince, the play began.

Though it was supposedly a Rosvalt work, to her, the setting and plot didn’t seem much different from those produced in the kingdom. Of course, her reading experience was limited to a few famous literary books from secondhand bookshops and dozens of popular novels that Baroness Bingham enjoyed.

A beautiful and lovely noble lady, and two men courting her. Instead of the eldest son of a count’s family who would clearly make a perfect match for her, she is helplessly drawn to a dark-eyed lover of unclear origin. Forced by her father and the count’s son’s passionate courtship, she eventually makes the choice befitting her status, but on the night before the wedding, the dark-eyed young man appears and runs away with her.

She begins to doubt her decision, which she believed she would never regret, months later when she loses the child who was the fruit of their love. After losing a second child the following year, she finally realizes her lover’s true identity……

Up to this point, it was an extremely common tale of passion, but Bronwynner recognized the lover’s identity before the ill-fated heroine did. The heroine had an aunt who had married into a foreign royal family. The people of that royal family all possessed charming dark eyes.

In other words, this was a story alluding to the Lester dynasty, which had produced sickly heirs due to intermarriage over several generations.

The Rosvalt royal family had long been excluded from the complex marriage networks formed among continental royalty and imperial families, and in the past, this fact might have provoked their inferiority complex. However, after the source of the Lester family’s misfortune was revealed, the Rosvalt royal family openly began to boast of their “flawless blood.” When Crown Prince Lionel and Prince Austin lost their lives side by side in the war, Rosvalt’s vile mockery of this fact still provoked anger among the people of Lennox.

Apart from the content of the play, the production was incomparably splendid. The orchestra in front of the stage added dramatic sound effects at every opportunity, and occasionally flower petals showered from the ceiling. The actors’ passionate performances were also remarkable, and Bronwynner couldn’t help but be drawn into the play.

When the count’s eldest son, who had been in unrequited love with the heroine, finally found the lovers’ nest, Bronwynner quietly said to Count Farraway,

“Shouldn’t we leave now……”

He looked at Maude. She was completely absorbed in the play. Only someone as harsh as the Duke of Lovedale could take the girl away now.

The count hesitated.

“If we wait just a little longer……”

Suddenly, a fight broke out on stage.

The two rivals, facing each other directly, had drawn their swords. The orchestra’s urgent performance heightened the atmosphere even more.

Though Bronwynner had never seen men dueling before, she could tell that the actors were giving truly convincing performances. Other audience members also held their breath, watching to see who would win the duel.

Then blood spurted from one man’s chest.

The red liquid instantly soaked the man’s white clothes. For a moment, the audience collectively imagined that those shocked dark eyes met their own.

Simultaneously, Bronwynner’s fingertips turned cold.

The man’s face, turned the color of white wax. His body, slowly tilting as he lost balance…..

Everything was just like that time.

The heroine wailed in terror and grief. Her cry was so chilling that it sent shivers down the spines of all who heard it.

“Someone help! ……Tristan, Tristan!”

The air in the theater stirred ominously.

Because ‘Tristan’ was not the name of the fallen man. Nor was ‘Tristan’ the name of his rival, who stood dazed with the bloody sword in hand.

When Bronwynner, barely regaining her senses, noticed this strange atmosphere……

“Derek.”

Countess Windell called her brother.

“We need to take Maude out. Her condition……”

Bronwynner quickly turned around.

The girl’s face, which had been filled with excitement just minutes ago, looked frighteningly pale even in the darkness. Maude didn’t respond when the countess called her name. The focus had disappeared from her silver-gray eyes. Her breathing through parted lips grew increasingly rapid.

Count Farraway stood up.

“Maude, are you all right?”

He lifted the motionless girl in his arms. Bronwynner carefully took Maude’s hand. Her usually warm hands were terribly cold.

“To the lounge……!”

Lady Windell said.

The count nodded and moved quickly. The two women hurriedly followed behind.

The lounge was a private space for box seat patrons, furnished like the reception room at Crimsworth Court. However, upon looking inside, Bronwynner shook her head.

There were no windows.

“She needs fresh air.”

Lady Windell fretted.

“But shouldn’t we lay her down somewhere?”

Bronwynner shook her head again.

“We need to take her to a quiet place with good ventilation to calm her down.”

Surprisingly, Bronwynner was the calmest of the three.

Count Farraway immediately followed her suggestion. As the three had nearly descended the stairs, someone called to them from above.

“Maude……?”

Looking up instinctively, Bronwynner was startled.

The silver-haired young man she had seen from the audience stood at the top of the stairs.

‘His Highness Prince Reginald.’

Her first impression of the crown prince, whom she had only seen in portraits a few times, was…….

He resembled Jeremy yet was clearly different.

While Jeremy had blonde hair and gray eyes, the prince had silver hair and deep golden eyes. Their facial features were similarly straight and chiseled, but the prince’s expression appeared gentler. This might have been due to the color of his eyes, or perhaps the traces of smiles that had settled on his face from frequent use.

“Derek.”

At the prince’s call, Count Farraway bowed slightly.

“……Your Highness. What a surprise to see you here.”

The two men seemed well acquainted. The prince skipped formalities and asked,

“What happened to my cousin? Does she need a doctor?”

“I’m not sure. She suddenly became unwell while watching the play……”

The prince came down and examined Maude’s face. Her silver-gray eyes remained wide open, and sweat had formed on her forehead.

The prince frowned his handsome face.

“She’s fainted. Perhaps the play was too stimulating for Maude? I can’t imagine that Jeremy would have allowed his sister to watch something like this.”

Beyond the stimulating content, bringing Maude to a play rumored to be of Rosvalt origin was inappropriate from the start. While Count Farraway was at a loss for words, Bronwynner stepped forward.

“It’s a panic attack, Your Highness.”

The golden eyes turned toward her.

“Who is this young lady, Derek?”

“The seventh daughter of Viscount Pemberton’s family, Miss Bronwynner Pemberton.”

“Ah, the Lovedale family’s ward.”

Bronwynner was surprised that even the prince knew she was Jeremy’s ward.

Reginald said,

“I’m sorry we couldn’t properly greet each other in these circumstances, Miss Pemberton. What did you say about Maude?”

“I said it’s not an ordinary faint, but a panic attack.”

He gently contradicted her.

“I’ve known this child since she was an infant, and Maude doesn’t have any condition like panic disorder.”

When he said the word ‘condition,’ his tone carried a slight edge. Only then did Bronwynner remember that he was the heir to the Lester family. Whether congenital or acquired, people of the royal family were sensitive to the existence of illness. Nevertheless, she needed to speak up.