Ch#260
Fragment of the Broken Glass Slipper Side Story 1 Episode 5
"...So you're saying you're hiding that filthy personality of yours well from Cisse?"
"Only a fool wouldn't. And watch your words. If His Imperial Majesty took over my work right now, I could visit her every day. I'm probably the first to be worked to death over something other than Knights Order duties."
This was all due to befriending the wrong people—his friend and liege—but he wisely kept that unsaid. Instead, he stared intently at Lady Rosan as if pressuring her.
It was natural for her to bristle at his behavior. Unable to contain her rising ire, Lysette Rosan was about to snap when a sudden thought made her suppress her boiling anger and flash a sweet smile. Her voice dripped like a witch tempting a child.
"So you don't need my advice?"
"If that were true, I wouldn't be wasting time like this."
His haughty chin lift, as if daring her to speak, eerily mirrored the Emperor. Lysette Rosan felt a pang of sorrow that her only confidant was such a man, and slowly opened her mouth.
*Might as well make him squirm a bit,* mischief bubbled up.
Regrettably for him, Lysette Rosan knew exactly how to mentally torment a man like Michael. She knew precisely what irked him.
Indeed, as she probed his weaknesses—sort of—her lips curved in a sly smile while eyeing his face.
"If it were me, I'd send only flowers. I'd present the jewels in front of everyone. The venue? The Debutante Ball hall would be perfect. It'd be just like a scene from a novel—utterly romantic."
Michael's brow furrowed deeply at her words. Accustomed to stares since childhood due to his striking looks, he disliked being the center of attention. He hated the trailing gazes and ensuing whispers.
Thus, her suggestion grated. Political spotlight was one thing, but starring in a romantic spectacle felt awkward, even repulsive. He wondered why she suggested it, knowing his dislikes.
"Be reasonable. Do I seem like the type?"
"But Cisse would love it."
At Cisse's name from Lysette Rosan's lips, Michael's eyes narrowed. He pursed his lips in displeasure, then sighed and muttered, "Continue." Lysette nearly burst into laughter at his reaction.
"And if you care for her, shouldn't you endure that much? You know rumors of you two reuniting are spreading wildly in society. And the nasty talk that follows. Considering her status, it's unavoidable. But if you clasped a necklace around her neck before everyone that day, no one would dare gossip again."
"Edith must be among the gossips."
His words paled Lysette's face. Michael snorted knowingly. He sought her help on romance due to his inexperience, but knew it came laced with politics or selfishness. He was aware not snapping to would let them manipulate him.
"I know hearts don't change easily. But using me to shock him? You're something else."
Lysette murmured defensively in a small voice.
"No. That wasn't my intent. Really. I wasn't even thinking it. You know I'd do anything for him. But I don't want to hurt him."
"Yet His Majesty wounds us without a second thought. Amazing you suggest this, knowing that."
Lysette didn't refute. She acknowledged it. Among their trio, the Emperor was the most inscrutable. Despite years together, she couldn't swear he truly valued their bond.
But his consistent self-centered decisions since childhood no longer repelled her. To survive the imperial jungle, it was necessary.
Yet this Emperor began showing human cracks after Cisse de Bischwaltz appeared.
He'd approached her initially for Michael's sake, tossing playful tests. Soon, greedy eyes fixed on her.
Unspoken, but his veiled intent was terrifyingly obsessive. Without the fair friend's mask, he'd have pursued her openly.
But a thread of caution restrained him, forcing detours that ultimately gave Cisse wings.
Michael Aires remembered the Emperor's prior words. Fierce first love or numb life—life's coin forced front-or-back choices, fair yet harsh.
Fleeting passion burned world-consuming hot, then faded.
Yet their similar affections diverged by a hair because Michael Aires, mere famed knight, had less to lose than the Crown Prince.
Boundless suspicion, rejection, testing—freer for him to bare his heart. As second son, not heir, he approached unburdened.
Crown Prince Iob尔德 chose lofty status, sacrificing much. Mistaking his emotions for summer shower—pouring then drying—kept him cold. Gain was paramount.
To one bloodied by foes since youth, emotional prostration was impossible.
Thus, deeming wavering heart illusion, he arrogantly assumed she'd fall like others to face, status, sweet words—seizing control. His greatest blunder. No, root was his emotional immaturity.
"Kneeling in the ballroom for her? Easy. But the aftermath is so predictable, it's nauseating."
Michael Aires drummed fingers on the chair, continuing. His smooth, expressionless face chilled like ice. As if prior banter were lies, he pierced Duchess Rosan with sharp eyes.
"Lysette Rosan. Don't delude yourself. She's not you. She doesn't think, act, or use like you."
Cisse de Bischwaltz schemed desperately only when House Bischwaltz was involved. That's why Michael adored her. Perfectly selfish, scheming, greedy Cisse. Sweet, soft as fruit flesh to him.
Unlike Michael, Rosan, and the Emperor—who knew no bounds—Cisse drew lines and stayed within.
Cruel to some, not all—astonishing. A social rarity.
Ridiculously, perfectly flawed. Seemingly using others ruthlessly yet anxious—drawing their focus. Same yet different, filling voids. Vividly ecstatic.
Of course, desires differed. Michael wanted her unchanged; Rosan, like herself; Emperor, to wield Lady Bischwaltz selfishly. Thus, Rosan and Crown Prince united to corner her naturally.
Lysette Rosan aided the Emperor's desire for Cisse. Emperors took multiple consorts; mistresses weren't infidelity.
If politics burdened Empress, co-consorts weren't bad. *Could grasp friendship and love?* The dream shone until Cisse kicked it away splendidly.
"...His Majesty must learn 'give up.' And Mel, I swear, my prior advice was pure mischief. Believe me. He never thought it. Really. Or maybe unconsciously."
Her dry tone twisted Aires's face in contempt. He rubbed his face, muttering like a sigh.
"You're truly vicious."
"If you won't believe, I won't beg. But clarify. Being despised like this irks me. You sought me—remember. So, Sir Aires, what will you do?"
"Solid advice. But..."
Michael Aires gazed out the window. Cloudless sky strikingly blue.
"I'm curious if our great Emperor can endure it."
***
Debutante Ball date set, the capital's shops bustled with crowds. High-status or wealthy summoned merchants home, but Madame Dobigne's wasn't to be dismissed lightly.
Society's elite wore her designs to avoid outdated whispers. Thus, Cisse squeezed time to visit.
Long time no see? She welcomed Cisse warmly. Famous as the Duchesses' friend, all boutique eyes turned.
"Here for your debutante dress? I have ideas ready."
She showed sketch-filled sheets with confident smile.
Society buzzed she was the ball's star. Madame marveled at the once-frozen girl now here, eyeing Cisse studying sheets.
Time womanized her; cat-like mischief, lush figure bloomed.
"This dress..."
Cisse paused on one, trailing. Seemingly simple, bold off-shoulder silhouette familiar.
*Roena's engagement dress! Around now, right?*
"Like it? Excellent taste, Lady."
At Madame Dobigne's praise, Cisse swallowed a wry smile, murmuring thanks. Drawn to it amid great options meant past-bound.
Yet fatefully, she must wear it. Composing turmoil, she said.
"Suits me?"
It suited Roena—the great beauty. Face overwhelmed; why ornate clothes?
Thus, Cisse worried despite urge. No Roena-level beauty.
Plain brown hair unlike sunlit gold. Voluptuous bust mismatched elegant dress.
But Madame smiled reassuringly.
"That's why I'm here. Magic to suit perfectly. You'll be stunning."
"Lucky you. Already excited."
Cisse rose, thanking. Roena's blue dress swirled in mind, gracefully dancing with Crown Prince's hand.
***
People smiled slyly at Cisse, prying about Michael Aires.
Curious if his heart was whim or true love—to gauge her position.
Impotent husband, toying ex-lover—juicier tale?
Pitying her, they craved more misfortune. Mercy for muddied required superiority.
But Michael Aires scoffed, carving more time for her amid piled desk rumors.
Nay, near rebellion. Furious at Emperor's mad workload—opera escape "crime," more papers.
Knights training days, documents nights—withering. Thus, escaped again—second easier—casually visited Cisse for theater, dinner, salon games.
Picnics by river, hand-holding, chaste kisses, lounging idly. Napped to her reading lullabies; glared icily at hunt men.
Chief: inspect ordered jewels. Aesthetic keenly refined—unmanly—rejected designs repeatedly. Imperfect unworthy of fortune.
Jeweler sweated under Ice Knight's twitching brow, ominous aura, fawning.
Nightlong toil yielded masterpiece necklace, earrings, bracelet set. Delivery day, face decade-worn.
Infuriatingly, Michael dubbed the artwork "Finally decent."
Generous pay justified arrogance, but belittling stung tears.
Not blind work—Cisse portrait-based! Designed to evoke her; retort: "Blind? Her beauty this paltry?"
After dozens revisions, jeweler swallowed urge to curse, forced grin. Vowed no more commissions.
Unknowing he'd craft Bischwaltz Countess ring within a year.
Fragment of the Broken Glass Slipper
Novel by Yeolmae
Author: Yeolmae
Publisher: Kwon Tae-wan, Woo Cheon-je
eBook Publication Date: 2017-12-22
Production: CL Production
Address: 1108-ho, 41 Digital-ro 31-gil, Guro-gu, Seoul
This book is published as an eBook by KWBOOKS under contract with the copyright holder.
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