The Empress began issuing instructions to the attendant at her side.

“And inform the prince that selecting the guests carefully will be the most important matter.”

Henrietta nodded obediently.

Her thoughts drifted back to the wedding she had once held in Sersenfers, a day filled with pure joy and sincere blessings, where everyone laughed and danced freely, spinning together without formality, where even children could wander in and join without being stopped.

That perfect, unrestrained day on a late spring night, just before the arrival of summer.

Moments that had felt like miracles beneath the moonlight.

Familiar faces that made her eyes sting with tears the moment they met.

Rough melodies and simple, humble food.

It was only natural that the thought of a new wedding made her feel as though those beautiful memories would be tarnished.

Beneath the table, Henrietta brushed her fingers over the ring on her hand.

“And you must go to the Lorenzo Salon today.”

Her wandering thoughts were cut short as she was forced to face the sudden, overwhelming reality before her.

“Today…?”

The salon of Countess Lorenzo was, without question, the most prestigious in all of Baron Cohen.

It could well be called a condensed version of high society itself—every noblewoman in the country longed to be admitted there.

Now that she had become the Crown Princess, she had known, vaguely, that she would one day have to go.

But she had never expected it to happen so suddenly.

“Yes, today is their regular tea gathering. If not today, there may not be another opportunity.”

The Empress handed her an envelope, its corners lavishly gilded in gold.

With trembling hands, Henrietta opened it.

Her name was written inside.

A simple invitation—to attend the Lorenzo Salon’s tea gathering.

Everyone wished to enter that salon but not everyone could.

And an invitation, once given, was never guaranteed to continue.

If a family became entangled in scandal or fell into decline and failed to receive their annual invitation, it was no different from being cast out of high society entirely.

That was why even the most prominent families considered it a grave disgrace not to receive an invitation from Countess Lorenzo.

“Because of you, I’ve been subjected to this kind of humiliation. To think they dared send this to me on the very day.”

Sending an invitation on the same day implied something clear, they would invite her, but did not truly want her there.

It was a petty tactic often used by powerful families to assert dominance.

And even knowing that there was no choice but to go.

It was outright tyranny.

“I publicly acknowledged you as my daughter-in-law, so they couldn’t refuse to invite you. But they clearly think you don’t fit their standards.”

The Empress glanced at Henrietta.

Her gaze held nothing but displeasure and doubt.

“So go—and conduct yourself properly.”

Things like this had happened countless times at the Schutzman estate. But Henrietta had never once been at the center of it all.

She had never even been considered worthy of joining such childish, petty games.

“Endure a certain degree of humiliation. For now, what matters is simply that you attend that salon.”

***

The Empress instructed Henrietta to prepare within the palace.

With the help of the imperial attendants, she was made to look perfect in no time — flawless in every detail.

As she stepped down from the carriage, she clenched her fists and looked up at the elegant mansion before her.

Although one of the Empress’s attendants had accompanied her, she felt more like she was under surveillance than receiving support.

… Ha!

Steadying herself, she felt the weight of her dress pulling her down, as if her body were being forced to bear the burden, too.

‘I don’t want to go in.’

Shaking off the feeling of trudging through soaked mud, Henrietta gripped the hem of her skirt tightly.

If she could just endure a little longer, everything would end without issue.

Repeating those words like a mantra, she recalled the summer forest of Hangderhood.

The thought that she might one day return and walk those forest paths again brought her a small sense of calm.

Passing through the grand entrance and into the hall, she was met with a forked passage.

As she hesitated, unsure which way to go, Countess Lorenzo appeared before her.

“Your Highness, you’re a little late.”

“My apologies.”

“There’s no need to apologize.”

Though she was well past forty, the Countess of Lorenzo moved with the grace of a young girl.

The lively rhythm of her steps, the gentle rise and fall of her shoulders, and the playful smile that lingered on her lips made her seem much younger than her years.

Henrietta had seen her a few times at the Schutzman estate, but this was the first time they had stood face to face at such close range.

Judging by appearances alone, she hardly seemed capable of commanding high society.

“Being fashionably late is also a virtue of a noblewoman, so don’t trouble yourself.”

Despite her youthful appearance, her voice was composed and measured.

Her figure was full, yet her slender neck gave her an overall graceful, refreshing presence.

In every way, she was undoubtedly a woman capable of captivating people’s hearts.

“We have quite a number of guests today, so both halls have been opened.”

The two halls she referred to were the rooms on either side of the long gallery.

The countess led Henrietta through the gallery and into the larger hall on the left.

“I do apologize for sending the invitation on the same day. But I hope you can understand, Your Highness. I, too, have to be mindful of appearances.”

Henrietta was taken aback by her bluntness.

She was far more direct than Henrietta had anticipated.

After a brief pause, Henrietta simply nodded and offered a faint smile.

Even breathing felt like it required careful control.

The hall was already filled with people.

It was too small to be a banquet, yet too crowded for a simple tea gathering.

Only married women — or, at the very least, those who were engaged — had been invited to the Lorenzo Salon’s tea party.

Considering that, it almost felt as though every prominent noblewoman in the capital had gathered there.

In the center of the room stood a long table reminiscent of a formal dining hall, with women seated here and there along it.

Several smaller, round tables were neatly arranged around it.

Some faces were familiar, but most were not.

“Well then, I’ll leave you to it. Enjoy yourself. And… I do hope you come through this unscathed.”

The Countess of Lorenzo smiled gently as she left her at the entrance to the hall before quickly disappearing.

Her hurried departure made it clear that she really did need to watch where she was putting her feet.

However, given Henrietta’s precarious position, it didn’t feel like an insult.

As she looked around, she noticed the glances — furtive, sideways looks slipping in her direction.

Everyone was clearly aware of her arrival, yet not a single person stood up or acknowledged her.

The more they behaved this way, the straighter Henrietta held her posture, fixing her gaze firmly ahead.

For these noblewomen, such treatment would have been a lifelong humiliation — something to dwell on endlessly.

But for her, it was as natural as breathing.

In that sense, perhaps nothing could truly be called the worst.

The days she had endured at the Schutzman estate were proving useful now.

Around her, the women were engaged in lively conversation about an upcoming exhibition the following month.

Their brief discussion of artistic theory soon turned to which painter each of them planned to sponsor.

Stories of young artists and the noblewomen who supported them often stirred the social scene.

It seemed that a painter named Holland was the most celebrated of the year.

The conversation then turned to the story of a viscountess who had caused a scandal with a young artist the previous year and consequently had not been invited this time.

At that point, Henrietta began to look for somewhere to sit.

Even if she had stood here the whole time and left without sitting down, it wouldn’t have been particularly humiliating. But such a thing was unthinkable for the Crown Princess.

However, it would have been absurd to take a seat when nobody had invited her.

As she let out a long, restrained breath, a young man who appeared to be a butler approached her.

“Your Highness.”

At his voice, every gaze in the hall turned toward her.

“His Highness the Prince has sent a letter.”

A flicker of surprise passed through her, but Henrietta accepted the letter with slow, composed movements.

“Thank you.”

As she read, an almost unnatural silence fell over the hall, as if everyone had been watching her from the beginning.

The weight of those open stares made her temples throb, but Henrietta steadied herself and stood firm, determined not to falter.

The letter was not long.

It was just like him: concise yet gentle, as though he were speaking to her in a quiet, reassuring voice.

“It seems His Highness is quite a kind man.”

At that moment, someone finally spoke to her.