Chapter 4
4.
Cornelia’s eyes sparkled as she asked if there was any more juicy gossip.
She was clearly referring to what had happened at Count Cale’s recent banquet.
Lobelin pricked up her ears, wondering if there was any other information she might have missed.
Brian let out a heavy, bone-weary sigh and shook his head.
“Haa... He told me to find that woman no matter what it takes... but I’m at a total loss. I have no idea how.”
“Do you really have no clue who she is? Truly?”
“None. All I know is that she wore a white dress and has brown hair.”
“Brown?”
At Brian’s words, Lobelin felt her heart drop into her stomach.
Watching Lobelin instinctively reach up to touch her own hair, Brian shook his head.
“Don’t worry, Bell. I guarantee His Highness’s memory is faulty. The man can’t even remember what a maid he just passed looks like.”
...I think he remembered it correctly this time, though.
However, since it was a blessing that Brian was barking up the wrong tree, Lobelin decided to keep her mouth shut.
Meanwhile, Cornelia, knowing nothing, asked with genuine disappointment at the lack of evidence.
“Then doesn't that mean there are no clues at all? You can't even be sure about the color of the dress.”
“Ah, that much is certain. There’s physical evidence.”
Brian reached into his pocket and pulled out a small scrap of white cloth.
It was the proof of the woman that Ian had shoved into his hand before he left for the day.
‘Good heavens, Your Highness, what exactly is your taste...?’
‘Put those ridiculous assumptions away this instant.’
Ian had protested against Brian’s judgmental gaze, insisting that the sort of scandalous, vigorous activity Brian was imagining had definitely not taken place.
...In any case, since it was a piece of the dress the woman had worn that night, it was decisive evidence.
‘No, why do you have that?!’
Meanwhile, Lobelin, who recognized her dress immediately, felt like she was falling back into hell.
She knew the skirt had been torn, but she never imagined Ian would actually pick up the scrap and carry it around.
“Have either of you ever seen a dress made from this fabric?”
“Oh, wait, this is...”
Cornelia tilted her head as she looked at the white cloth subtly embroidered with white silk flowers.
Then, with a pure and innocent smile, she asked.
“Bell, didn’t you have something like this among your dresses? I think I’ve seen it before.”
“Is that true, Bell?”
“N-No! It’s my first time seeing it!”
Driven by a guilty conscience, Lobelin shrieked her denial.
“Co-Connie, you’re mistaken. I’ve never seen fabric like this in my life.”
“Hmm, I guess so. I thought we could find the culprit by investigating the boutique where you get your dresses, but if it’s not yours, then nothing can be done.”
Since she didn't particularly suspect her friend, Cornelia readily accepted Lobelin’s words.
“Come to think of it, almost everyone was wearing white that day. There must be at least twenty young ladies with a dress like this.”
“Exactly, exactly.”
Lobelin nodded vigorously in agreement with Cornelia.
However, she couldn't bring herself to look Brian in the eye.
‘I’m sorry, Bri. The person you’re looking for... is me...’
Seeing Brian mutter, “Well, nothing to be done then,” with empty eyes, Lobelin felt her conscience prickling.
But she couldn't exactly step forward for the sake of her friend.
Her life was on the line.
Anyway, since the other side had so little information about her, she figured she wouldn't be caught as long as she was careful.
‘After a few dead ends, Ian will eventually give up... though Brian will suffer a bit.’
Lobelin stole a glance at Brian.
Unaware of the truth, Brian was merely sipping his tea with a dejected expression.
*
The members of the Heriet Imperial Family often gathered for breakfast.
It was intended to be an intimate time for the four of them—the Emperor, the Empress, and their two sons—but for Ian, it was always a familiar yet uncomfortable occasion.
“Crown Prince, I hear you’ve been attending banquets frequently lately?”
“...Ah, yes.”
“High society is all well and good, but rumors tend to follow wherever people gather. It would be wise to be cautious.”
The Empress spoke, casting a sidelong glance toward the Emperor.
Just as the Empress said, Ian had attended every single banquet over the past few days in order to find the woman.
Thanks to that, a fluttering breeze of excitement had blown through the hearts of the unwed ladies as spring approached.
But he still hadn't found the woman he was looking for.
“I was planning on cutting back regardless.”
Ian decided to stop going to banquets, wondering if the woman was intentionally avoiding him.
Besides, he was getting sick of those gatherings where everyone turned up with the same dresses and hairstyles.
“Do take care of your conduct. Many eyes are watching.”
The Empress finished her sentence with a cunning smile.
It was a smile of satisfaction at having painted Ian as a pathetic man who spent his time chasing after banquets.
Ian let out a short, hollow laugh at his stepmother’s transparent intentions, but he didn't bother to confront her.
It wouldn't matter anyway; the Empress couldn't defeat him.
“Brother, could you take me to a banquet next time?”
“Maxim!”
That was because her biological son, Maximilian, was failing to live up to her expectations at all.
The youngest prince, Maximilian Heriet, who was less than half Ian's age, unfortunately adored Ian, unlike his mother.
Sculpted good looks, tall stature, and the dignified, upright bearing of an adult.
To the young prince, Ian was the ideal adult he wanted to emulate.
The Empress, however, found this displeasing.
“Maxim, do not speak of such trivial things before His Majesty. Your tutor will be arriving soon, so finish your meal quickly.”
The Empress urged her son.
She was particularly sensitive because Maxim’s progress was significantly slower than Ian’s had been at that age.
Ian knew this well, so he didn't feel the need to be wary of his younger brother.
He only hoped the Empress would learn her place sooner rather than later.
“Honestly, do set an example for your younger brother, Crown Prince.”
“Yes, I will keep that in mind.”
In the end, it’s my fault again.
Ian lifted his glass with an indifferent expression and swallowed his wine.
Watching Carola glare at him with sharp eyes, a childhood memory suddenly surfaced.
‘I’ll be honest with you. Ian Heriet, I dislike you. I intend to trample over you for the sake of the son I will have. That is what power is.’
Those were the words Carola had spat at him the first time she met him, when he was a child not even ten years old.
He had long since given up on expecting maternal affection from such a cold woman.
It was bitter, but what could he do? Like she said, that was the nature of power.
“More importantly, Ian.”
The Emperor, who had been listening silently to the conversation until now, spoke up.
“I intend to proceed with your engagement soon. What do you think?”
“An engagement?”
“Yes. I hear Lady Bennett is of impeccable conduct.”
Ian nodded at the Emperor’s words, showing no surprise.
The Bennett family, wealthy and long-standing central nobles, were always the first to be considered as candidates for the next Crown Princess.
But unlike the composed Ian, Carola looked as if she had just received a death sentence.
“I-I have also heard that the Marquis’s daughter is beautiful and virtuous, Your Majesty.”
“Indeed. And the size of the dowry she would bring is unmatched.”
The Emperor looked particularly satisfied as he added that last part.
To him, it was the most important condition for a daughter-in-law.
‘An old man who cares for nothing but wealth and power.’
Ian muttered inwardly at his father’s materialistic words.
However, he had no reason to oppose the Emperor.
He wasn't expecting some grand romance that would culminate in marriage anyway.
As long as she could solidify his position, it didn't matter if it was a Bennett or anyone else.
From the start, that was what an imperial marriage was.
“O-Oh my. Hohoho. How wonderful it would be if our Maxim could also welcome a wife from such a family.”
“Mother, I’m not as distinguished as my brother, so I’m not very confident.”
“Please, Maxim!”
And seeing that tiresome Empress’s face twist at the news was quite a sight to behold.
‘If the young lady were only two years younger, she would have tried to pawn her off on that dim-witted Maximilian.’
The thought of Maxim, who was two heads shorter, standing with a blank expression next to a veiled bride made him let out a small laugh.
In terms of dealing a blow to the Empress, this talk of engagement was quite meaningful.
‘Did Lady Bennett attend the last banquet?’
Ian thought of Count Cale’s eldest son, who had been frantically reciting the names of the attendees at his side.
He seemed to recall hearing her name. And.
‘...That woman was there too.’
The woman who had been dominating Ian’s thoughts for the past few days came to mind again.
The memories flickered in and out like primroses blooming at night.
Most of them were of those heated moments on the bed.
Every time, Ian tried to focus on recalling the woman’s face, but his body always reacted before his mind could, leading to repeated failure.
Even now, the thought of the woman’s soft, breathtaking white curves made his mind grow hazy as if he were dreaming—
“Brother? His Majesty asked you a question.”
“...Ah.”
At Maximilian’s call, Ian finally snapped back to reality.
With slightly flushed cheeks, Ian looked around.
The Emperor, the Empress, and the Prince were all staring at him.
“Ian, what is the matter? Is there perhaps another woman you have in mind?”
