Violetta’s revelation dropped like an utter bombshell. The moment the words left her mouth, a strange, breathless surge swelled in my chest. Only then did the identity of the document he had signed and stamped with such absolute focus two weeks ago click into place. Remembering how he had offered that soft smile and said, “It’s something good,” I had to bite my lip to keep from grinning outright.
“Aren’t you touched? Huh? You’ve got to be totally moved!”
“All right, that’s enough out of you.”
Brushing off Violetta as she practically bounced on her heels with excitement, I offered a deliberately calm reply and made a swift departure from the palace. Khalid had broken his engagement. With Isabel. Why? Asking myself felt almost laughable when I was so obviously tied up in the reason. Recalling that fact brought a peculiar, intoxicating thrill along with the rush of emotion. A sudden longing to see his face nearly sent me rushing to his office, but between the maid’s strict reminders that I had to return home early today and the sweet anticipation of seeing him at tonight’s banquet, I managed to firmly clamp down on the urge.
Upon arriving at the townhouse, Madame Gisele was already waiting as promised. Meeting the gaze that sparkled with the same fierce determination as two weeks ago, I spoke resolutely.
“Make me the most beautiful woman in the world.”
“Oh, my.”
Madame Gisele looked thoroughly taken aback, clearly comparing this version of me to the exhausted, unbothered woman she had dealt with a fortnight earlier. Taking in my solemn, resolute stance, she blinked once before breaking into a brilliant smile.
“Of course.”
“After all, you are the star of today’s festivities.”
Madame Gisele’s salon specialized primarily in couture garments and jewelry, but it also offered an impeccable, all-inclusive styling and cosmetic service. Her artistry was so legendary that half the noble debutantes in society owed their grand arrivals to her hands. Settling into the chair before the vanity, I closed my eyes and entrusted myself completely to her assistants as they worked over my hair.
“Shall we sweep her hair up?”
“Put it up so the low back remains completely bare.”
“Should we aim for an elegant touch with the makeup?”
“Keep it as natural as possible. Bring out the Lady’s inherent glow. Don’t think of it as painting a face on her; treat it as draping light over what is already there.”
As they exchanged words from a realm entirely beyond my comprehension, I surrendered myself into Madame Gisele’s hands. The gentle stroke of brushes drawing my locks down only to sweep them up again, the soft dusting of powder across my cheeks, the layering of subtle pigments—no matter how tedious it felt, today I wanted to look breathtaking. Everyone knows that feeling, don’t they? That singular day when you want to look unquestionably at your absolute best for the one you hold dear. Today was clearly that day.
After two grueling hours of an artistic campaign, I was finally permitted to admire Madame Gisele’s ‘masterpiece.’ Good grief. It turns out painting stripes on a pumpkin really can turn it into a watermelon. Staring into the mirror, I gaped in utter shock at the woman gazing back—someone who bore my exact features, yet looked ten times more gorgeous. At the exact same moment, the reflection seemed equally startled.
“Madame Gisele.”
“Did you major in fine arts?”
At this point, wasn’t she an artist?
I had always considered my own cosmetic touch-ups to be something of a mild con, but compared to this, my efforts were little more than a toddler’s scrawl. What proved even more terrifying was that anyone looking could instantly tell the reflection was me, meaning she hadn't created an entirely different person—merely an exceptionally stunning version of Scarlett.
What an absolute miracle of cosmetic alchemy!
This was practically fine art!
Or was it pure sorcery?
I looked toward Madame Gisele with wide eyes. Now I understood why her name was on everyone’s lips throughout the capital. While there were certainly plenty of salons capable of producing a conventionally pretty doll, very few could pinpoint a person’s distinct features so flawlessly and tailor the look to suit them. This was an appreciation born of bitter experience, having once entrusted my face to another salon years ago, only to watch my pumpkin-self emerge as an awkward apple.
“Is it to your liking?”
While claiming the title of the world’s most beautiful woman was perhaps a bit of a stretch—given that my raw foundation was fairly ordinary—this would at least spare me the indignity of being mistaken for a lizard or an insect in the ballroom. As long as I gave a wide berth to the likes of Violetta, Isabel, and Olivia, I might even manage to dodge being labeled plain.
Pfft.
Noticing me gaze into the mirror with deep emotion, Madame Gisele spoke up.
“Shall we put on the gown now?”
“Yes. Let’s.”
Seeing the fire of ambition burning a hundred times brighter in my eyes than before, Madame Gisele wore a satisfied smile.
The dress fit like a glove, just as it had during the previous fitting. The only difference was the additional layers of structured crinoline underskirts that slightly restricted my movement, but other than that small inconvenience, it was utterly flawless. Once the diamond-encrusted headband was placed atop my updo, the knotted ribbon securing it trailed behind in an airy, fluttering wave of pure grace.
Per Madame Gisele’s advice, I opted out of wearing any necklace or earrings. The reasoning was that pairing a gown already lavishly embroidered with intricate beadwork with flamboyant jewelry would only create a chaotic impression and detract from its charm. Finding myself in complete agreement, I had substantially pared down the accessories overall.
Standing before the full-length mirror once everything was in place, the billowing sweep of the skirt proved so magnificent that even the large glass could hardly contain it. The overlapping tiers of silk falling into graceful, rolling ripples looked so breathtaking that I couldn't help letting out a small, proud lift of my chin. When Carlyle arrived to collect the bill on my behalf, his stunned reaction alone brought immense satisfaction. Of course, he appeared far more awestruck by Madame Gisele’s craft in transforming me than by my actual looks—one can hardly be struck by beauty that was never there to begin with.
“And lastly, my Lady, though my congratulations come late, allow me to offer my heartfelt praise for your magnificent accomplishments during the treaty negotiations.”
“Congratulations, my Lady.”
When Madame Gisele and her assistants bowed in unison after seeing to every final detail, I answered with a warm smile.
“Thank you all for your hard work.”
At my words, she gathered the hem of her skirts in an elegant curtsy before stepping out of the chamber alongside her staff. Watching their departure, I waited for Carlyle, who had agreed to serve as my escort, and answered the subsequent knock at the door before heading out.
Carlyle, the Crown Prince of Winchester, stared down at my face as if it were a rare, exotic curiosity, peering at me over and over until I had to smack his arm several times. Only after this man, who had become a father just a month ago, winced in exaggerated pain at my swatting did I finally cease battering Winchester’s heir to the throne.
“How is Her Highness the Crown Princess?”
“Still resting at the Proms villa. Ah, she asked me to pass along her congratulations in her stead.”
I had already received a letter from her a few days prior. She had written to explain that, having so recently given birth, she was in no physical condition to attend the banquet in person, promising that the moment she returned to the capital, I would be the first person invited to the royal residence. I had replied assuring her that it was perfectly fine, expressing my longing to meet my twin royal nieces someday, and had sent along an array of presents to celebrate the births.
Unlike my cousins, whom I casually addressed by name in private, Crown Princess Sharon always carried an air of slight distance, yet she seemed remarkably fond of me despite being only two years my senior, which I found endearing. Before his marriage, Carlyle had often escorted me when I lacked a partner, and following his wedding, he seemed genuinely regretful that my polite refusals prevented us from crossing paths more often.
Well, of course I refused. I had enough tact to know better. Drawing the line at my childhood shame of sleeping wedged between my parents, I figured it was high time to bring an end to my history of intruding upon married couples.
Thanks to that, and largely by her own suggestion, I was able to take Carlyle’s arm once more and walk into the banquet hall beside him.
“Walking you in like this makes it feel like I’m marrying you off.”
“Where on earth did you get such a ridiculous idea?”
“Will our little Scarlett ever even get married? When is it going to happen? Come on, give me some nieces or nephews.”
“…Becoming a father has really ruined your dignity, hasn’t it?”
It seemed Carlyle’s habitual teasing and nonsense were past the point of repair. Standing before the grand double doors of the hall, I raised my foot to kick his shin when he put on an exaggerated, tearful face, only to stop myself just in time as I remembered the sheer volume of the gown I was wearing.
“Announcing His Royal Highness, the Crown Prince of Winchester, and the Lady of House Dirnant!”
The double doors swung open, revealing the upper landing of the grand staircase. The ballroom below stretched out so vast it seemed impossible to take in all at once, yet right in the center of it, so easily, so very easily… Hm?
Holding onto Carlyle’s arm as we steadily descended the steps, I smoothed over my expression and flashed a radiant smile. Women in breathtaking gowns gathered their skirts to curtsy with polished grace, while gentlemen in sharp, tailored evening coats bowed with hands resting respectfully between shoulder and heart. Naturally, His Majesty the King was nowhere to be seen, having yet to make his grand entrance.
Reaching the foot of the stairs, I finally caught sight of Violetta standing near the base. Instead of her usual opulent wine-red silk, she had opted for a muted, deep blue-black gown, though she looked undeniably striking regardless.
The moment the gathered guests dispersed back into their small conversational circles, Violetta strode over. The frantic, thrill-seeking excitement from this afternoon had vanished without a trace, replaced by an expression of pure, unadulterated irritation. The very first question out of her mouth concerned Isabel, matching my expectations to the letter.
“Hey, have you seen that bitch Isabel lately?”
“Can’t say I have.”
Violetta shook her head in sheer disbelief. Following her gaze, Carlyle and I tilted our heads slightly, only to spot Isabel standing with the poise of a pristine swan, surrounded by a flutter of noble ladies.
“No matter how shameless she is, what on earth is she thinking?”
“Hmm. Doing it to spite me?”
“Spite is one thing, but this is ridiculous. How dare she show up in a white dress?”
A dry curl touched the edge of my lips. It wasn't born of joy, but rather the hollow amusement stemming from plain annoyance and resignation. Still, riding the high of hearing Khalid had broken off their engagement this afternoon, I felt generous enough to overlook her antics.
Scanning the room, Isabel undeniably stood out, draped in a white confection brimming with lavish feathers, sparkling gemstones, and cascades of ruffles. Against her striking features, the white fabric lent her the pure, ethereal aura of an angel. Violetta bit down hard on her lower lip, glaring as though ready to commit murder on the spot, before finally snapping her head back toward me.
“Does she think the rest of us don’t know how to look pretty?”
“Word is already out that Madame Gisele personally took charge of your ensemble. Any noblewoman with a scrap of common sense would have checked to see what gown you—the central figure of tonight’s celebration—would be wearing.”
“Everyone deliberately wore muted tones for your sake! Does she have no sense at all? And you didn’t even snap at her?”
Violetta’s indignation left me with nothing to do but laugh softly. No, that probably wasn’t it. Isabel had always had a penchant for bright, airy dresses since we were children. White and pink had always been her favorites.
Typically, my wardrobe remained entirely the responsibility of my personal maids. What was more, as someone who seldom enjoyed frequenting high society, I neither understood nor cared to learn the unspoken social codes floating around the ballroom.
Even so, I was well aware that wearing a shade more conspicuous than the guest of honor was considered dreadfully poor form. Of course, on an evening like this, I hadn’t thought of myself as the sole star, so it hardly bothered me; besides, my own dress wasn't in a particularly loud shade anyway.
If anything, I could only marvel at the sheer nerve it took to don such a dazzling white dress to a royal banquet.
“Good grief. But of all things, pure white…”
Glancing across the hall, nearly everyone, Violetta included, had dressed in restrained, low-saturation shades. Accustomed to choosing dark garments when attending the palace to avoid clashing with the royal family's colors, I hadn't found anything amiss. In the midst of all that subdued fabric, Isabel’s brilliant, eye-catching presence leaped out unmistakably. While even Carlyle wore a bemused, complicated look, I merely offered a light, unbothered chuckle.
“Leave it be. She must be a mess inside after having her engagement broken.”
She had likely dressed up just to show her ex-fiancé what he was missing.
Violetta let out a sharp scoff at my reasoning.
“Not a chance. That’s not it at all. The annulment document hasn’t even been formally announced yet. The official declaration isn’t until tomorrow.”
“What? Then how did you find out?”
Announced or not, the only thing that mattered to me was the fact that Khalid had put forward the annulment document, yet I couldn't help asking in surprise upon realizing she knew something that hadn't even been made public.
