Isidore’s words proved to be true.

From the moment she received the invitation until she stepped into the ballroom, she was under the scrutiny of countless pairs of glittering eyes.

No voices rang out in crude derision. Instead, they merely exchanged glances with their companions, their chins lifted in lofty pride. At first glance, these glances could be mistaken for polite smiles, but they only made Ilenia shrink deeper into herself.

“Stop cowering and look ahead.”

Startled, Ilenia released her grip from Isidore’s arm, though her back remained hunched and refused to straighten.

With a frown, Isidore let out a sigh.

“I’ll be going now. Manage on your own.”

“B-but—”

“I told you already.”

The hand she reached for was coldly brushed aside.

“I told you—not to expect my help.”

She had suspected as much, but she never imagined he would abandon her so publicly, in front of so many people. She couldn’t stop trembling.

Isidore smirked.

“Whatever anyone says, just smile. You’re good at that, aren’t you? Smiling like a fool without a care in the world.”

She could not answer. Yes, she had wanted to appear that way, but never in front of people who weren’t family. And certainly not in front of nobles. Years of avoidance and submission had trained her body to hunch up reflexively.

“Look there—Count Hildebalt’s…”

Curiosity. Suspicion. Mockery. It felt as if they all rained down upon her head at once.

“Just pass the time and leave. Your parents won’t have much to say if you do. So stay quietly in some corner.”

With that, Isidore left her. Not far off, she saw him greeting an acquaintance with easy familiarity.

“Leni!”

Hearing her name again brought back memories of the nickname the adults used to call her and her friends when they were children playing on Tilea Hill. She missed those days.

‘Enough. I didn’t come here to play. I have friends too, if that’s all it takes.’

Lifting her chin, Ilenia held her head high. She could not afford another mistake—certainly not twice.

Sharply, she scanned the hall.

······ ✦ ✧ ✦ ······

“Why all the commotion?”

By the time the ball was in full swing, the one who appeared at last sent the crowd into cheers.

“Who could have expected this! We truly didn’t believe you would come.”

“You insisted so much, how could I refuse?”

The man gave a faint laugh as he accepted the glass of wine that was offered to him. The ornate crystal glass sparkled in his elegant hands.

“So? What sacrificial lamb has everyone so riled up?”

“Why, isn’t it obvious? The daughter who returned to her family after eighteen years!”

“Ah… Hildebalt’s.”

At his small response, eager voices rose in chorus.

“But in the end, she’s just some girl no one knows the origins of.”

“Come now. From Count Hildebalt’s perspective, she’s a nugget of gold.”

“Of course. Their house was on the brink of ruin—how could they not find the product that walked in on its own beautiful?”

“Hahaha!”

With a few coarse jokes, the men burst into laughter. Between their drinks, smoke from freshly lit cigars drifted in the air.

“Count Hildebalt must have grit his teeth. Took in a beggar and dressed her up to look presentable.”

“Presentable? She behaves worse than a cheap courtesan.”

“Even her clothes are unimpressive.”

“Old men always have their tastes. Especially in body.”

“Ah, yes.”

“We should commend Count Hildebalt’s eye, at least, for not letting such curves go to waste before showing them off to the world.”

Even amid the shameless talk, the man with golden eyes did not so much as glance aside.

“And what did you think?”

“Of who?”

“You bastard. Don’t play ignorant after hearing it all.”

A taller man, almost a hand’s span taller, clapped him on the shoulder in jest. The faint curve of his lips, drawn into an elegant line, set the hearts of the young ladies watching alight.

“Such things don’t interest me.”

“You’re wasting yourself.”

The man said, shaking his head as though gravely disappointed.

“With looks like that, and wealth enough to buy half the capital’s main street, yet no interest in women.”

“As if this is new. He’s always been that way. No doubt he’d be more aroused by numbers on paper than by the prettiest lady alive.”

Although they were intended as a compliment, the words had enough bite to make the man turn his head. His neatly combed black hair fell forward, partially obscuring his brow.

Delphius Lukehart, the eldest son of the Dukes of Lukehart, wore a cynical expression.

“What’s the point of stating the obvious? Everyone already knows it.”

“Ha, did you hear that? If it’s something everyone knows, all the more reason to shout it loud.”

“And of course, it’s also common knowledge that your grandfather wrote those numbers I so love on promissory notes.”

“You bastard—!”

“You said to speak of what we know.”

Delphius gave a faint laugh.

“I only shared what I know. Regrettably, it seems they aren’t news you care to hear.”

In the Mateo Empire, all money in circulation passed through the Lukeharts. And within that house, no one doubted who held the true power—Delphius himself.

Influential. The authority of the financial world. Those who had dealt with him even once in business called Delphius the “Golden Hand.”

It was a name heavy with both respect and envy.

The man before him was no different. Though his fist clenched as if ready to swing, he could not bring himself to strike.

“Come now, what is this—fighting in someone else’s ballroom? You’re not green debutantes.”

Thankfully, before the situation could escalate further, those around them stepped in to intervene.

Losing interest, Delphius turned his gaze elsewhere.

Balls were always the same: There were always those desperate to provoke him and those equally desperate to involve themselves with him. Surrounded by such tiresome people, he grew weary.

‘Once again, nothing new.’

He swallowed the thought and turned to leave.

And then—a fleeting fragrance brushed past his nose, so achingly familiar it pierced him.

“Ah!”

With a startled exclamation, he felt dampness spreading across his back.

“I-I’m so sorry!”

As he turned around, he saw a young woman who looked flustered and lost. She was holding an empty glass.

“…Ha.”

As if the man who had provoked him earlier were not enough, now another had gone so far as to spill champagne over him. Already on edge from a contract signed that very morning—its numbers leaving him particularly displeased—Delphius’s expression darkened, his face hardening with fury.

“I’m so terribly sorry. What should I do?”

A bright, nervous voice rang in his ears.

“Oh, truly—what am I to do…”

The woman’s fluster was so exaggerated it bordered on embarrassing—even for Delphius. It was more than a simple show of apology; the restless motion of her hands betrayed her genuine mortification.

Going further still, she set down her glass, drew out a handkerchief, and began dabbing at his clothes with earnest determination. Though frantic in her manner, her firm, insistent strokes managed to lighten the stain that had seeped into the fabric.

Yet removing it entirely was impossible. No matter how hard she tried, the wet mark clung stubbornly, while her fingertips blanched white from scrubbing.

“It just won’t come out…”

“That’s enough…”

“Then… would you take off your jacket, please?”

What? Take it off?

“A few more rubs and it might come right out. If we leave it as it is, the stain will set.”

If the stain remained, so what. It was not as though this coat held any special value for Delphius. And even if it had been a favorite, he could replace it without the slightest trouble.

But to ask him to remove it? Did she even understand what she was saying? Yet the young woman went so far as to clutch at his sleeve in desperate appeal.

“Or… if you would give me your name, then I—”

“Whose daughter are you?”

“…Are you asking me?”

“Who else would I be asking, when you’re the only one here?”

“Ah…”

Her lips parted slightly. After glancing around the room a few times, as if wary of being overheard, she finally straightened up. The lively, restless energy that had characterized her moments earlier was replaced by the poised bearing of a noblewoman. Bowing her head with practiced formality, she began to speak.

“I am Ilenia, daughter of Count Hildebalt.”

“Ah.”

It was only then that Delphius began to understand her frantic behaviour.

After all, he was the subject of the rumors those gossipmongers had been so eager to spread. For a moment, he remembered the chatterbox who had been talking non-stop not long ago, but then he dismissed the thought.

“So this is what they meant: scraping together money they didn’t have just to increase the value of their product.”

“Pardon?”

Delphius’s eyes swept over Ilenia. Finally, her clumsy behaviour made sense. She bore the marks of training, yes, but it had never truly become second nature. Her awkward movements only made her stand out more. With her stiff, perpetually tense shoulders, it was clear to everyone how nervous she was.

“…Ha.”

A sudden laugh escaped him.

“Your clothes…”

“There’s no need to worry. This much can easily be concealed.”

“But if it’s left like this—”

“I’ll simply throw it away. It’s not something I value particularly.”

Ilenia appeared shocked for a moment, but Delphius ignored it as though he hadn’t noticed.

“Delphius!”

Just then, a voice rang through the hall, calling his name.

“Delphius! You said you were taking a short rest—where have you gone off to?”

It seemed their meeting would end here. Tilting his head toward the voice, he said:

“Then, next time—be more careful where you walk.”

With that, Delphius strode towards the person who had summoned him so brazenly. As expected, they were unimportant, and tedium settled across his face once again.

Amidst the idle chatter, he abruptly turned his head. His sharp gaze swept the crowd until it stopped on one person.

“What is it? Did you see something?”

“Yes.”

The corner of his mouth lifted. It was an unexpected find. Untouched ground, unclaimed by anyone. How brightly would that land shine, harboring such boundless potential?

The predator’s eyes gleamed as they locked onto their prey.

“I believe I’ve found something interesting.”