Chapter 11.4

As soon as she returned to her room, Syria bathed without help and lay on her bed.

Melanie poked her face in to greet her, saying she’d just returned from an outing, but since it was late, she wished Syria a good night and left. Since there was another banquet the next day, Syria hadn’t called for a maid.

Though her body was hot, the cool night air from outside made her shiver a little. Syria pulled the blanket up to her neck to warm herself.

‘Firenze, really…’

She’d forgotten for a moment how bold he could be in bed, despite his sweet voice during his confession. He was always so composed as a knight, it was easy to forget.

‘Ugh, I don’t know anymore.’

She debated how to respond, but decided it was fine to let it go. After all, Firenze’s mood was better now, so why not just move on?

Thinking about tomorrow’s dull banquet, Syria suddenly remembered the man she’d seen today—specifically, the one who’d acted a bit suspicious.

‘Who was that man? Does he have a second job?’

Turning on her side, Syria reached for the drawer by her bed. She picked up the black stone inside, and under the moonlight streaming through the window, it glowed softly.

“What is this?”

She rolled the smooth stone around in her palm. It felt nice, but didn’t seem special or react in any way—just a pretty rock.

After fiddling with it for a while, she felt its chill and put it back. As warmth spread under the blanket, sleep overtook her and Syria drifted off.

* * *

“My Lady, it’s time to wake up.”

Though it seemed to be dawn, the maids were already knocking on her door, and Syria forced her sleepy eyes open. She wondered how early these industrious maids woke up, and considered how to scold them as she dragged herself up.

Today was the second day of the grand banquet. Though the festivities started at sunset, the maids woke Syria at dawn. Even after experiencing it yesterday, she was irritated.

“Haaaam~ Come in.”

Yawning deeply, she gave permission, and the maids entered. But Melanie’s face was nowhere to be seen.

“Haaaam… Where’s Melanie?”

Yawning again, Syria rubbed the tears from her eyes and asked.

“The maid said she wasn’t feeling well today.”

‘…Not feeling well? She seemed fine yesterday…’

But since health could change suddenly, Syria just nodded.

“The Duke has other appointments today, so he won’t be attending the banquet. Unfortunately, My Lady, you’ll have to go alone.”

“Really? Alright.”

She answered plainly, not feeling disappointed at all.

‘If things get awkward again like yesterday, I’ll be the only one suffering.’

Today’s event wasn’t important anyway. Today, the Emperor and high nobles—the heads of houses—would not attend; it was for welcoming foreign envoys celebrating the Founding Festival.

Of the three days of the banquet, only the opening ceremony and the grand finale on the third day were mandatory for everyone. Today was more like a social gathering for the young nobles, a detail she remembered from the original story.

Luckily, without Melanie’s unique sense of style, the maids dressed Syria up just as elegantly as any other young lady her age, without anything too flashy.

After half a day of preparations, she arrived at the Imperial Palace right on time. Giving her family name, Syria entered quickly and couldn’t help but widen her eyes.

‘Wow… So this is what they meant by a young people’s banquet?’

The scene before her was completely different from yesterday.

Instead of dull music, lively and fast tunes filled the hall, and young nobles danced energetically. It wasn’t quite a club, but even for a waltz, couples were so close it made onlookers blush.

‘Wow, they’re bold.’

The women, usually so dignified, now sent flirtatious glances at the men. Groups of young men, their vests crisply ironed, pulled at their clothes and exchanged moist looks. Eyes met and clashed in the air.

‘This is nothing like the last tea party.’

With the official setting, everyone was much more forward.

‘…?’

Not wanting to miss the fun, Syria settled in to watch. One woman noticed her gaze and flinched.

‘Wait, that woman… Isn’t she the one from before?’

It was the woman she’d seen at Count Bruiser’s charity event.

‘She’s the one who talked about street girls, right?’

The woman turned her head in surprise and slipped out to the balcony, but not before winking at a man and signaling him to follow. Syria noticed because the man nodded and went after her.

‘Well, it’s silly, but good for them.’

Syria nodded slightly and reached for a wine glass carried by a passing attendant.

“Lady Syria, you’re here.”

Alpen appeared behind her, approaching with a smile. His blonde hair shone under the lights, making him look even more handsome than yesterday.

“Duke, why are you here? I thought you’d be greeting the envoys.”

He should have been busy welcoming foreign guests, so Syria wondered why the great Duke Roxihart was here. Alpen smiled coolly.

“His Majesty and the aides will handle it well.”

“…His Majesty?”

Syria tilted her head, doubting it, and Alpen chuckled softly.

“Without me, His Majesty has no choice but to work hard.”

It sounded like he’d dumped his duties on the Emperor.

‘He’s close to the Emperor, but that’s impressive.’

Syria pictured the tyrant’s face, probably throwing a tantrum trying to find Alpen. But the Emperor often forgot his responsibilities, so Syria didn’t feel sorry for him.

“Then, congratulations on escaping work. Cheers.”

“I like that.”

Syria changed her mind and took another glass of wine, handing it to him. Alpen gladly accepted.

Clink!

The transparent wine glasses rang brightly. Syria smiled and drained her glass in one go.

‘Ah, I did a one-shot out of habit.’

Her work-party habits had lingered, so instead of sipping, she drank the wine all at once. Alpen’s glass still held red liquid, swirling in his hand.

“My fiancée, you must have been very thirsty.”

“Ah… I was feeling parched.”

“I’ll get you another.”

Alpen raised his hand to call an attendant.

“No, it’s fine now.”

Syria grabbed his wrist to stop him.

‘I can’t get drunk…’

She remembered how she’d lost control when drunk before and decided to restrain herself. She never remembered anything the next day, but that was all the more reason to be careful.

Even now, just seeing a man’s body sometimes made her lose control, so she worried about what she might do if she was unconscious.

‘Last time, after taking an aphrodisiac, I caused a scene. Alcohol might do the same.’

She’d starved herself all day to look slim, and drinking on an empty stomach made her face flush with heat. Nervous, Syria pointed to the balcony where the woman had gone.

“Let’s talk over there.”

She thought the cool breeze would help clear her head. Alpen looked a bit surprised, his eyes widening slightly.

“Do you really want to talk there?”

“Yes.”

She just wanted to keep a clear mind, so she suggested it. Alpen’s expression was a little odd, but he brushed her hair aside with a gentle smile.

“As you wish, Lady.”

Alpen turned and offered his arm. Syria placed her hand on it and headed to the balcony, right next to where the woman had gone.

Alpen bent at the waist to open the glass door, and as Syria parted the black blackout curtain and entered, she felt the cool air on her cheeks, a stark contrast to the warmth inside.

A fairly spacious area contained a large red sofa, and beyond the railing, a beautifully landscaped garden could be seen. The railings on both sides were quite high, presumably to protect the privacy of each balcony, so the faces of people on the opposite side couldn’t be seen.

“Oh my, this is quite well done.”

Syria set her glass down on a small table to one side, admiring the cozy space perfect for conversation.

Alpen settled onto the sofa and spread his legs arrogantly. Sitting with his back straight, he showed the marks of noble etiquette.

“Come here and let me hold you.”

Alpen stretched out his arms as if to embrace her, smiling.

“Huh?”

She had expected to sit and talk quietly, but he suddenly asked her to come and be held. Syria, about to step forward, froze in place.

“Aaaah… Hugo, harder.”

“Pluto, you’re quite greedy.”

At that moment, embarrassing noises leaked from the neighboring balcony—m*ans, unmistakably.

“Ah, ah, ah… I love it. Hold me tighter, until my bones break.”

A woman whimpered in a sweet voice.

“Um. Wh-what’s that sound?”

It was coming from the balcony where the man and woman she’d seen earlier had entered. She’d thought they’d gone there to talk, but apparently not.

‘Were they having a conversation with their bodies?’

Syria was shocked by the shameless noises. She couldn’t believe such things happened within the dignified Imperial Family. Was it because there were no motels in this world that people clung together like animals anywhere? She hoped not, but the request for “harder” was clearly not about a massage.

‘How could an all-ages novel have such an official event?’

She’d doubted the original work many times, but new revelations always exceeded her expectations.