“…Miss Amelia.”

With a still-surprised expression, Rose asked,

“Surely, you’re not going to say you don’t recognize my brother?”

Bartholomew, instead of his knightly uniform, wore an extravagant doublet adorned with emerald buttons. Was Amelia pretending not to recognize him just because of a change in attire?

Amelia shook her head.

“I know who he is.”

Then what was that puzzled expression just now? Before Rose could resolve her confusion, Bartholomew spoke.

“So, I finally learned your name, Miss Amelia Przhemysl. I never would have guessed you were the hostage from Brienne.”

Amelia inclined her head politely but said nothing, remaining silent. As Rose shot her brother a look, Bartholomew waved his hand dismissively.

“Don’t be too hard on her, Rose. Even I wouldn’t think of getting along with Miss Amelia after a situation like this.”

With that, he gestured to his nose, where a faint bruise was still visible.

“It’s just a bit nostalgic, learning the name I couldn’t get even after all this.”

“I apologize for the deception, Miss Amelia,” Rose said as she sat across from Amelia. Bartholomew seated himself on a single chair a little distance away.

“Lady Rose, did you have a particular reason for inviting me here?”

‘The audacity!’ Watching Amelia’s inquisitive expression, Rose was so astonished she couldn’t help but fan herself. That innocent demeanor was infuriating.

“Miss Amelia, are you seriously asking because you don’t know?”

“…Yes.”

As Amelia nodded readily, Rose scoffed.

“Very well, let me explain. You are aware, I assume, that my brother’s nose was broken because of you. Thanks to that, he’s been bedridden for over ten days. I doubt you’d pretend ignorance of even that.”

“…”

“I couldn’t understand why such a thing happened. Being punched just for asking someone’s name is unreasonable, don’t you think? But seeing your attitude now, you don’t seem inclined to offer either an explanation or an apology.”

It was well known in Olstein’s social circles that Bartholomew showed too much interest and affection to many young ladies. While people tolerated that, this was the first time anyone had publicly disciplined Bartholomew for it.

If word got out that not only was he reprimanded but also received no apology, it could damage the Kiaveri family’s reputation. Some of the noble heirs Rose had her sights on might turn their backs on her.

But Amelia’s response wasn’t what Rose expected.

“Lady Rose, I don’t see any reason I should explain or apologize.”

Rose’s eyes widened at Amelia’s words.

“What do you mean? I just explained it all to you! My brother was humiliated in front of His Highness, the Crown Prince, because of you.”

“I asked him to leave.”

Amelia replied quietly, her tone calm in contrast to Rose’s rising agitation.

“But he didn’t.”

“It’s the first time a lady has told me to leave.”

With a nonchalant shrug, Bartholomew jumped in.

“I thought a little persuasion would work. Little did I know Miss Amelia was merely biding her time to teach me a lesson.”

“Biding her time? What do you mean?” Rose asked, confused.

Bartholomew, crossing his legs with a smug look, said,

“It just so happened that I ran into His Highness the Crown Prince at that moment. It’s almost as if Miss Amelia knew he would be there.”

He was attempting to accuse Amelia of orchestrating the encounter with the Crown Prince. Rose, exasperated by her brother’s flimsy accusation, scolded him internally. Even with a knightly title, could he not devise something more credible? Although, admittedly, it did help in pressing Amelia.

“So… are you two saying…” Amelia, who had remained silent until then, finally spoke up.

“You’d like me to criticize the Crown Prince’s behavior?”

“What?”

Rose froze, curious whether Bartholomew’s preposterous claim had managed to unsettle Amelia.

“Listening to both of you, it sounds as though you have grievances about His Highness’s actions. Are you seeking my agreement on that?”

“N-no…” Bartholomew’s face turned awkward. Their plan to corner Amelia was backfiring.

“Grievances? Absolutely not. No one in all of Olstein would dare say such things about His Highness,” Rose quickly stammered in response.

“So you’re saying there’s nothing wrong with His Highness’s actions?”

Amelia asked, as if clarifying.

“O-of course…”

“In that case, I have nothing more to say, Lady Rose,” Amelia continued.

“I am merely a hostage and have no right to judge His Highness’s decisions. While it seems the two of you feel differently…”

“…”

“I’m certainly not in a position to offer an apology. I’m neither a royal messenger nor a representative.”

Rose found herself speechless, her mouth practically glued shut by Amelia’s calm words, despite the indignation welling up within her.

She had thought that by pushing Amelia, they might hear an excuse from her, which could then be labeled an apology and restore some dignity. But, as Amelia’s logic now suggested, it seemed that Rose and Bartholomew were treating her as a proxy for judging the Crown Prince. And the worst part was, they had no counterargument to refute her reasoning.

“Such talk, if misinterpreted, could easily be considered an insult to the royal family. It would be wise for you both to tread carefully,” Amelia finished.

A tense silence filled the drawing room.

Bartholomew straightened his attire, clearly displeased, while Rose, though seething with frustration, found herself unable to speak. Amelia’s serene expression, as she offered this unnerving advice, was devoid of any malice.

“If there’s nothing else, I’ll be going.”

After a while, Amelia stood up from her seat. Just as she was about to leave the parlor, Rose remembered she hadn’t resolved the question that had been bothering her.

“Wait a moment, Miss Amelia.”

Rose rose to her feet and approached Amelia.

“That expression earlier—what was it?”

“Pardon?”

Rose demanded, “When you saw my brother. You looked puzzled, as if he were a stranger. Were you pretending not to recognize him?”

Rose knew it was a petty accusation, but she forced herself to keep her chin up. It felt like she couldn’t let this go without finding some flaw, no matter how small.

“Oh, that was…”

Contrary to Rose’s expectation that she’d deny it outright, Amelia seemed to understand Rose’s question instantly and looked somewhat hesitant. Seeing this, Rose felt triumphant.

“So I was right? You were pretending not to know him.”

“…No.”

Amelia shook her head, though she looked reluctant to explain. She hesitated at the doorway before finally speaking.

“It’s just… his outfit…”

“Oh, you liked it, didn’t you?”

Bartholomew, who took pride in his appearance, smugly adjusted the collar of his doublet.

“This was tailored at quite a high price, Miss Amelia.”

“…In that case, I’d recommend getting a refund from the tailor.”

“What?”

Bartholomew’s face fell.

“Those emerald buttons are fake.”

“…”

“The shine is completely different from genuine emerald. You didn’t know?”

Amelia spoke in a sympathetic tone, as if regretting not having told him sooner.

“I assumed you chose them deliberately. Perhaps I should have mentioned it earlier.”

She glanced around at the artwork in the parlor as she spoke, her expression suggesting that Bartholomew’s fashion sense was noticeably out of place here. Rose’s face turned red as she clamped her lips shut.

—

“This is just too much!”

A few days later, Rose ended up sobbing on Marika’s lap while recounting her encounter with Amelia in the Chiaveri family’s parlor.

“It was the first time I’ve been humiliated like that! You can’t imagine the embarrassment I suffered because of him. Fake jewels made from cheap minerals!”

“Oh, dear… Rose.”

Marika comforted Rose, patting her shoulders as she wept. Despite Rose’s darling looks, among the finest in social circles, she still lacked the wisdom needed to plot effectively—one reason Marika cherished her as a friend.

“What’s with that girl, Marika?”

As if still fuming, Rose suddenly bolted upright, vigorously dabbing her eyes with a handkerchief.

“Marika, you should have seen how calmly she spoke, barely batting an eye while spewing her barbs! She looked so smug and sly, as if she were laughing at him behind his back. And yet, she didn’t say a single word out loud or even change her expression. Isn’t that disturbing?”

“I never thought Miss Amelia had such a side.”

Though she couldn’t entirely trust Rose, who disliked Amelia from the start, Marika found herself surprised at Amelia’s way with words.

Marika had privately thought that Bartholomew rather deserved to be kicked in the face by Josef. To someone as humorless as Josef, nobles like Bartholomew would certainly seem ridiculous.

But Amelia’s ability to sidestep this entire matter so skillfully and without any apology surprised Marika.

Upon reflection, there was truth in Amelia’s words. Josef had been the one to hit Bartholomew, after all. Amelia, too, knew the crown prince was responsible, yet never voiced it outright. Instead, she defended herself by saying that discussing the prince’s mistakes would be an act of disloyalty, thereby avoiding any further arguments.

‘I may have underestimated her.’

Amelia’s true character seemed slightly different from the initial timid impression. The fact that she had traveled to the empire and endured her treatment as a hostage was one thing, but her ability to stand her ground when pressed was another. Her refusal to act servile also left Marika a little uneasy.

“Don’t let it get to you, Rose,” Marika said gently.

“It’s unlikely you’ll run into her often. Amelia doesn’t have connections in society, so rumors about her likely won’t spread.”

“You never know.”

Rose, looking slightly more composed, replied curtly.

“She lives in the palace, after all. The servants or attendants could spread gossip. I bet she’s back there now, bad-mouthing everyone…”

“Wait, Rose.”

Marika’s face fell at something unexpected.

“…Does Miss Amelia live in the palace?”

“Didn’t you know, Marika? Oh, right, I suppose not—your family employs private staff.”

Rose answered with a slightly puzzled look, then nodded. As she’d noted, the Count of Mieschko’s household was one where a private secretary handled all correspondence, like party invitations or formal replies.

Marika herself would leave most of her invitations to this staff member, including Amelia’s. All Marika needed to do was convey her desire to invite Amelia, and the rest—sending the message, drafting it, awaiting a reply, and reporting the outcome—was managed entirely by her staff.

Which is why she had never known where Amelia actually lived. It simply hadn’t been a relevant detail.

“When I received the reply, the maid who delivered it said she resided in the Crown Princess’s quarters.”