“It’s strange to see you so proactive, Arthur. You always get scolded for saying you don’t care about family matters.”

“…This isn’t an ordinary matter. And Aisha is my sister.”

There was weight in the word sister. Edward looked steadily at Arthur, then placed a hand on his shoulder.

“You’re right. Aisha is your sister. She’s a precious member of our family, more than anyone.”

The firm pats on his shoulder carried trust and affection for his younger brother. Without Edward noticing, Arthur bit the inside of his cheek. The tang of blood cleared his thoughts, and he glanced around.

“…Edward, there’s a professor over there I haven’t greeted yet. I’ll just step over for a moment.”

He pointed toward an elderly gentleman with silver hair, ready to excuse himself. Edward followed his gaze, saw the man, and nodded. The moment he gave permission, Arthur turned to go—only for Edward to call after him just as he took his first step.

“Arthur.”

Arthur turned only his head to look back. Edward seemed to hesitate, then shook his head, gesturing for him to go.

“Never mind. Go greet him and see to your own matters. I should go find His Highness the Crown Prince.”

Arthur nodded and turned away again, heading toward the old professor. Edward watched his brother’s retreating back for a long moment before slowly closing his eyes.

❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

Aisha wandered the garden aimlessly. The flowers and plants bloomed with a beauty worthy of the palace’s renown, yet to her, the world was nothing but darkness.

Her tear-streaked makeup had left her face looking even paler. Though she was no longer crying, the redness around her eyes betrayed the depth of her lingering despair.

After some time wandering, she stopped. She didn’t know exactly where she was, only that it was clearly a secluded corner of the gardens. While the rest of the grounds had been lavishly adorned with luminous gemstones, here the only light came from the moon.

She lowered herself onto a broad, flat rock. The gown would crease and soil, but she no longer had the strength to remain standing.

“…I’ll go back first. Your face is a mess—stay and look around the garden a bit longer, or people will start talking.”

Wiping at her still-damp cheeks, she recalled Ian’s parting words and let her hand fall. Sitting in a corner When she went out to the garden to compose herself, she felt as though she was moving exactly as he wished. This left her feeling empty.

With her head bowed, she suddenly noticed something and, startled, took a step back. A small white flower growing between the cracks in the rock had been crushed beneath her foot.

Although she moved away quickly, the damage was done — the petals were torn and mangled, and the stem was flattened as if about to break.

It was the kind of wildflower that the palace gardeners would pull out without a second thought. Yet seeing it trampled so carelessly struck her as pitiful. Tears welled up again, unbidden. She brought her fingers to her reddened eyes and brushed away the forming droplets before they could fall.

‘I should go. Everyone must be worried by now.’

Seeing the crushed flower, Aisha forced herself to steady her emotions, pressing firmly at the corners of her eyes. She realized she had been outside longer than she thought; a chill crept over her. By now, her family was probably worried and looking for her.

‘Let’s go! Smile as you walk. My brothers are quick to catch on. If they sense even the slightest hint of something, they’ll start to suspect it.’

But then something strange happened. She had thought her heart had settled, but the moment she thought of her family, it started churning violently again. Tears welled up and spilled over before she could stop them. Shaking her head from side to side, she tried desperately to wipe them away.

So focused was she on holding back her tears that she didn’t notice the danger until it was right in front of her. In a secluded corner of the garden, three men had spotted her and were approaching her in an instant.

“Well, what’s this? Crying your eyes out here, girl?”

“Oh? And who do we have here?”

One of them, staggering drunkenly, recognized her and looked momentarily surprised—but the look quickly curdled into vulgar curiosity and malice.

“Aisha Parden. Isn’t this the esteemed daughter of the Count of Parden?”

The one standing in the middle was Vincent. Humiliated and thrown out by Ian during an academy reunion, he was the first of the group to recognize her. His words bared his teeth in a nasty smile, and the men flanking him nodded in agreement, raking their eyes over her.

“Come to think of it, you’re right. Aisha Parden. I didn’t recognise you at first, what with all that crying.”

“Lady Aisha, what’s the matter? Why are you crying so sweetly out here?”

Aisha knew instantly they were drunk. Even from a short distance, the reek of alcohol, their flushed faces, and bloodshot eyes made it clear. Judging the situation dangerous, she set her face in a hard mask. Dipping her head briefly, she moved quickly to pass them.

“And where do you think you’re going without saying a word? Are you ignoring us?”

Catching on to her intent, Vincent’s eyes flashed as he stepped into her path. The other two moved with him, closing off the way, their smirks ugly and amused.

“…Please step aside.”

Suppressing the fear rising in her chest, Aisha kept her gaze clear as she made her request. But Vincent, taking offense at her composure, leaned in threateningly, snapping at her.

“Just a moment ago you were sniveling, and now you’ve got that arrogant look again? Typical Aisha Parden, isn’t it? Don’t you think?”

He not only emphasized her family name but laced his tone with scorn. Though she didn’t even know his name, Aisha recognized at once that he harbored hostility toward her house. There were always a few who couldn’t hide their resentment toward the Pardens.

“That’s right. Now I recognize her. But I think I preferred the crying. You’re no princess—just the spoiled daughter of some nouveau riche. That arrogant look doesn’t suit you.”

“If you understand what we’re saying, put that pretty face to use. Cry again. Shiver for us, just like you were earlier. Hm?”

Upon hearing Vincent’s words, one of the men reached out and placed a hand on her shoulder without permission, tugging her forward. His grip was strong enough to leave a bruise. Disgust flashed across Aisha’s face as she tried to knock his hand away, but he overpowered her and shoved her back. Pinned by his grip on her shoulder, she cried out sharply.

“Let go! Let me go!”

“The little wench has quite the bite.”

“I told you to let go! Let me go!”

When Aisha struggled and fought back, the men snickered. Vincent, flicking her forehead with his fingers while his companions held her, sneered at her.

“Let go? Why should I? You think I’m in any position to listen to you?”

“Know your place! Show some respect. We’re nobles, you hear? Nobles!”

“As if the likes of her would know her place. She’s dressed up and made it all the way here, thinking she’s one of us.”

Vincent and his companions nursed a deep inferiority complex toward the Parden family. Barely clinging to their noble titles, with no hereditary rank to inherit, they saw the thriving Pardens as a thorn in their side. And so, they spat insults they’d never dare direct at the Parden men, aiming their scorn freely at Aisha instead.

“Stop this! If you continue to behave so rudely, I won’t stand by.”

“And if we don’t? What then?”

“Do you think my family would let this pass?”

Deliberately invoking her family’s name, Aisha… Men like this, who were quick to spout such base malice, usually fell silent and ceased their behaviour the moment her father or brothers confronted them. However, she had overlooked one thing: unlike the other insolent men she had encountered before, these three lacked even the slightest sense of propriety. Driven solely by emotion, they didn’t consider the consequences; their wounded pride made their jaws clench.

“You think some counterfeit nobles like yours could do anything to me? I’m a noble! A true noble!”

There was no reasoning with them. As Vincent shook her roughly, Aisha tried to cry out. However, he saw it coming and clamped a hand over her mouth. He was no stranger to intimidating women.

“Mmph!”

“…You’ve got some nerve, don’t you.”

Aisha twisted her head, fighting with all her might. Vincent’s face contorted hideously and his eyes bulged. Drunk and teetering on the brink of insanity, he decided she was looking down on him because of her family name.

“Just because your father parades around the palace doesn’t mean you’re a real noble.”

“Mmph! Mm!”

“Don’t kid yourself, you wretch. No matter how much your family parades around, you and your lot could never—agh!”

“Vincent!”

Aisha thrashed her head around when his thumb slipped into her mouth. She sank her teeth into it hard enough to draw blood. Startled by the sudden pain, the man froze. Aisha pushed him away and flung herself forward.

“Somebody—! Kyah!”

But one of them grabbed her again, clapping a hand over her mouth, ending her escape as quickly as it began. Vincent approached, lifting his hand high.

“Mmph! Mmmph!”

“I’ll teach you—proof you’ve got filthy blood, daring to—”

“Vincent! Wait!”

Before the heavy palm could fall, one of his companions, who had been watching, called out to stop him. Vincent shot him an irritated glare.

“What?”

“If she ends up with a mark, she could report us. Even if we deny it, if there’s a visible bruise, it’ll work against us. Don’t you remember last time—how that girl from the Panning barony reported us for just one slap? Lucky for us, the Panning family was already collapsing and she was a bastard, or else it wouldn’t have ended with just a bit of money.”

“Damn it!”

Upon hearing his companion’s words, Vincent lowered his hand. He hated to admit it, but they were true. But how was he supposed to swallow his anger? As he fumed, the man who had been watching Aisha ran his tongue slowly over his lips in a repulsive gesture.

“Still, it’s infuriating to just let her go like this. Didn’t I say this little wench is all worn out? As a punishment, we could toy with her a little. As long as we don’t leave any marks, she’ll get the message. She’ll learn what happens when a fake dares to stand up to the real thing.”

With a gleam of malice in his eyes, the other men let their gazes crawl over the Aisha they were holding, appraising her in a way that made the air turn sickening.