Chapter 10.6

When Syria arrived at the Imperial Palace, holding the Duke’s arm, the nobles who had arrived earlier were gathered up front, lined up for entry. Attendance was mandatory for all nobles in the capital, so the crowd was beyond counting.

Even though all nobles could enter officially, the attendants at the entrance and the Imperial Knights standing by checked each guest’s face and invitation one by one, letting them in slowly.

‘This is going to take a while…’

Glancing to the side, Syria figured it would take quite some time.

‘If I’d known, I’d have touched his hips a bit more before leaving…’

Even though she’d arrived on time, it seemed she could have dawdled a little longer.

‘Come to think of it, don’t high-ranking nobles usually skip the wait?’

Glancing over, Miland was waiting patiently for his turn. He could have used his authority as Duke, but for some reason, he was taking his time.

‘Is it because he’s so principled?’

Bored, Syria stared at the ground, but could still feel subtle glances. This time, unlike before, it wasn’t the young ladies, but the noble young men.

Syria sensed the sideways looks and turned her head, causing the men to quickly turn away with strange gasps, pretending to stare at the back of the person in front of them. Yet she could feel their attention.

‘What’s with them? Oh…’

Frowning, Syria finally recalled her previous “performance” in front of the noble young men at the Imperial Palace. Specifically, the rapid-fire words she’d spoken.

‘That day, for sure…’

Even though there was an order to keep quiet, the men who’d heard her directly would remember exactly what she’d said.

It was shocking enough that the supposedly virtuous lady had been kidnapped, but then she’d talked about checking hips to catch the culprit, even giving reviews—no wonder they thought she was crazy.

‘Ah… I forgot all about that.’

She’d vaguely worried about the women confronting her like last time, but the ladies were now doing their best not to look at Syria. She couldn’t understand why the story with the young men had been completely forgotten. Syria tapped her head like a goldfish.

“What are you doing?”

As she was tapping her head, the Duke caught her fist in his hand.

“Ah… My head just…”

“Your Grace, why are you waiting in line here? You can go straight in.”

Interrupting Syria’s attempt to explain, Gallion, the Emperor’s aide, appeared. It was the attendants’ job to greet guests, so why Gallion showed up was unclear. He signaled to the knights to clear a path through the queue.

“It’s fine. I’ll wait in line.”

“No, why are you waiting here? You know high nobles can enter directly.”

Syria’s guess was right. Despite having the power to skip ahead, they were unnecessarily waiting.

“We’ll be in soon, don’t worry.”

Gallion glanced at the hundred-plus people ahead and grimaced.

“At this rate, you’ll enter long after the banquet starts.”

“If that’s the case, we might as well go back…”

Syria was startled by the Duke’s words.

‘Wait, is he doing this because he doesn’t want to go in?’

Just as she thought, Gallion looked desperate. Thanks to the high-ranking guests who never did as he wished, he was about to lose his mind. He’d come out just in case, and now this happened… Gallion groaned internally, then bowed again.

“Go back? Please, come this way.”

But Miland shook his head firmly and remained silent. Cool as he looked, he was stubborn to the core. Deciding it was hopeless, Gallion signaled to Syria with his eyes.

‘Please. Help. Me.’

Syria sighed deeply, not understanding why this was happening, and let her lips droop.

“Father, can’t we go in as the aide suggested? If we keep waiting, the other nobles around us will be uncomfortable.”

It wasn’t a lie—people were already casting sharp looks at the presence of Gallion and the knights.

When she pleaded with her most pitiful face, Miland’s expression hardened. Syria tapped her shoe inside her skirt on the floor, wondering what else to say.

“Are your legs hurting?”

“Ah… a little.”

After waiting so long, her new shoes were uncomfortable, and the tight waist was making her feel queasy.

‘D*mn dress. Never wearing this again.’

If she stood any longer, she’d probably have a fit. But complaining wouldn’t help, so she kept quiet, but somehow the Duke noticed and looked at her legs.

“Then let’s go in.”

“Really?”

At the Duke’s words, Gallion finally breathed a sigh of relief and led the way, signaling for the crowd to part. As they walked down the newly opened path, Gallion winked at Syria in thanks.

‘What made him change his mind?’

Watching the Duke’s elegant back, Syria muttered softly.

“It’s because you said you were tired.”

Firenze, following behind, whispered quietly, but Syria didn’t believe it.

‘He’s not that kind of person.’

Firenze, despite appearances, was quite naive.

Pushing past more than a hundred people, they entered, and the nobles inside bowed their heads to them. The light from the chandeliers was so bright it made Syria squint.

The banquets she’d only read about in books were far more luxurious and extravagant than expected. The grand hall was as big as a stadium, filled with nobles dressed in every color, their jewels reflecting light everywhere, almost blinding her.

‘Everyone really went all out.’

She’d dressed up enough herself, but everyone else was also wrapped in the finest things. Some noble ladies wore such heavy jewelry that Syria wondered if they could even move. She was amazed by earrings that looked like they’d tear ears apart.

“Don’t go anywhere, just sit over there.”

The Duke spoke abruptly, placing his hand on Syria’s head. His large hand rested on her forehead.

As she slowly looked up, the Duke awkwardly turned away and coughed, quickly removing his hand and disappearing into the crowd. Or rather, he was instantly surrounded by people.

‘What was that?’

Like the sudden touch at the previous charity banquet, Syria was only left confused.

‘Does he like the crown of my head?’

Maybe the Duke had his own preferences, Syria thought, as she found the most secluded seat and sat down.

“Firenze, you sit too.”

Seeing Firenze standing behind her, Syria invited him, but the knight just shook his head and kept watch. The seat was a long sofa, enough for three people, but Firenze was still focused on his duty.

Syria’s feet were already swollen and sore, but she couldn’t take off her shoes, so she gently tapped her legs.

‘What’s the point of looking pretty if it’s this uncomfortable…’

Even though the shoes were custom-made to fit perfectly, her legs and calves were aching under the weight of her body.

Syria, seeing the empty seat beside her, felt the urge to put her legs up and give herself a proper massage. But in a banquet hall full of eyes, a lady couldn’t just stretch out and knead her legs, so she decided to endure it.  

She pretended to adjust her skirt, sneakily massaging her legs.  

“My fiancée, Lady Syria, you’re here as well.”  

Alpen approached, his mouth drawn into a wide arc with a dazzling smile that was impossible to look away from. He glanced at Firenze’s face, narrowed his eyes for a moment, but soon returned to his usual arrogant expression—a victor’s face, as if he’d won something.  

‘Oh… It’s Alpen.’  

Despite his uncharacteristically bright smile, Syria awkwardly lowered her gaze. It was the first time they’d properly faced each other since that intense lower body workout together. They’d never really talked about it, and the event had passed awkwardly due to the chaos that followed.  

Now, suddenly facing him, her face grew hot. Syria recalled that day with a reserved expression.  

‘And that look on his face when reality hit… Ah, now that I think about it, it’s a bit unpleasant.’  

Alpen had rushed to save her during the kidnapping incident. She was grateful that he’d used his family’s power to get to the bottom of it, but what happened in the mirror room left her feeling unsettled. Maybe that’s why her words came out less kindly.  

“I’ve told you several times I’m not your fiancée…”  

“Didn’t Duke Dronia say anything?”  

“My Father?”  

Only then did Syria remember that Alpen had visited the mansion a few days ago and had met with Duke Dronia instead of her. She hadn’t asked Duke Dronia about it, thinking their conversation would have been trivial.  

But as Alpen mentioned Duke Dronia, Syria felt uneasy. Even though she hadn’t offered him a seat, Alpen naturally sat close beside her.  

“I see… I made my position clear, but it seems he hasn’t said anything yet.”  

“…What are you talking about…”  

His handsome, bright face somehow seemed sly. It was as if those clear blue eyes, which seemed to inspire trust, were hiding a secret scheme.  

“Are you curious?”  

Alpen leaned in, pretending to be close, and whispered near her ear.  

“Hngh…”  

Syria flinched at the hot breath on her ear, letting out a low sound. Despite the noisy surroundings, she could hear Alpen’s words clearly. He seemed to enjoy her reaction, his eyes crinkling with delight.  

“I wanted to say that I enjoyed the last workout with you, my fiancée.”  

Syria, who had been looking straight ahead, snapped her head around.  

“Don’t tell me… You told Duke Dronia about that?”  

Firenze, standing behind the chair, seemed to be listening to their conversation while glancing around, so Syria lowered her voice.  

“No, why would you say that? Are you crazy?”  

Syria spoke quietly but with a hint of frustration, seizing the moment to vent her annoyance. They’d already caused a stir in the capital with her overnight stay, and she worried that their conversation, so close together among so many people, might be overheard.  

But even at her question, Alpen just stared at her with a mysterious expression. His clean face made her uneasy.