Ch#261
Fragment of the Broken Glass Slipper Side Story 1 Episode 6
"You've finally brought something decent. Good work."
Michael was slightly irritated by the jeweler's sluggish pace in completing the piece just one day before the Debutante Ball, so his naturally gruff tone slipped out.
Unaware of his own excessively picky aesthetic sense being the issue, he was furious only at how close they'd come to ruining everything.
But the long wait had yielded a truly perfect piece. Even imperial household members likely didn't possess such a masterpiece. Thus, he suppressed his boiling temper and carefully packed the jewels. The flowers were already arranged with the head maid and butler of House Bischwaltz to fill Cisse's room while she slept.
Handing over the jewels was up to him, but the chaperone was the problem. Rumors said Duchess Debenzel had graciously stepped forward for Cisse.
'Why doesn't she reach out to me? Restoring lost trust is harder than I thought, Mel. It's hopeless. I can never stroke a cat's back carelessly again. And yet she maintains the name of friendship—what a joke.'
Lysette Rosan fumed at the rumor, but others praised the Duchess's magnanimity in volunteering for Cisse. They marveled anew at Cisse's connections in securing such a noble chaperone, gradually softening their past criticisms. With her former lover back by her side, they had little left to bite at.
'Even I'd seek another with that impotent fool for a husband. And the man is Michael Aires! Who could resist? Better than tearing at one's thighs in loneliness. Besides, did they even consummate the wedding night? We should pity her.'
'Indeed. Such things are no longer scandals in society. Countess Bischwaltz should be praised for fully integrating into noble circles.'
'I agree. Better than acting all high and mighty alone. How outdated, harping on chastity. If so, join a temple and live alone forever.'
Despite the Emperor often mingling with her during his Crown Prince days, they avoided mentioning mistresses out of deference to Lysette Rosan. Thus, within allowable bounds, they indulged in vulgar imaginings, preparing to welcome her.
***
The Debutante Ball was undoubtedly the most romantic day for any girl, but no one began theirs as romantically as Cisse de Bischwaltz.
On debut day, unlike usual, she slept in late. She'd worked tirelessly until late the previous night.
Cisse managed the family in place of Viscount Rad de Bischwaltz, publicly bedridden, keeping her extremely busy.
She handled commerce and even politically entangled ducal affairs with mere two-hour naps daily.
Like the distrustful Emperor, past betrayals made her handle everything alone. She chugged awakening tea like water, holing up in the study all day.
To relatives, Cisse of House Bischwaltz was a tyrant. Unlike the previous head, she aggressively built the house, mercilessly crushing dissenters to fortify her kingdom.
With prior memories of seizing control, she tightened their leashes precisely, but clueless relatives felt maddened as she stabbed and twisted their weaknesses.
They'd barely resisted before victory tilted to her, leaving them wretchedly awaiting the family head's judgment.
Despite briefly appointing Laden as new head, many relatives were ousted, most bankrupted and exiled to remote countryside.
No matter their outraged screams of impropriety, she gripped real power, rendering protests futile.
Some pointed fingers calling her shameless, greedy, but with Duchess Debenzel behind her, criticism halted.
Only sycophantic relatives now entered House Bischwaltz, flattering Cisse for favor—only those she deemed useful as chess pieces, considering public eyes.
Thus, exhausted from purging surroundings these months—like a suppressed volcano on the verge—she'd finally slept deeply, impossible to wake early. Despite maids and servants bustling from dawn, she slept on.
Cisse awoke around noon, three hours later than usual.
Tingled by fresh scent at her nose, she opened bleary eyes, turning her head blankly before realizing the bed—no, the entire room—was covered in roses.
Startled upright, the thick rose fragrance hit her. Bed, nightstands, floor—everywhere brimmed with roses.
"What is this?"
Murmuring lowly in shock, Marie entered hugging flowers, beaming cheerfully.
"Madam, you're awake?"
"Head maid, what's all this?"
Marie arranged flowers in vases, responding dramatically.
"A gift from Sir Ailes. He prepared it secretly to surprise you. So romantic!"
"From Sir Ailes?"
"Yes."
Naturally, his prior question about favorite flowers flashed in her mind.
Cisse cradled her face, emitting a low groan. She'd casually said roses lacking preferences—leading to this. No wonder he'd beamed at her answer.
Rising, she slowly surveyed Sir Ailes's gift. Like transplanting an entire rose garden—all roses. Filling this room required unimaginable quantities. Immense.
The adjoining small parlor overflowed too, clearly scraped from every capital florist. Thorns trimmed, vividly fresh as just-picked.
"Madam, aren't you happy?"
Marie asked puzzled. Expecting joyful squeals or teary delight, Cisse's calm reaction puzzled her.
Cisse shook her head, sitting on the sofa, ordering stationery and ink. Marie left disappointed.
"Too much. Bad for the heart."
Alone, she sighed, pressing her chest. Surrounded by roses, her cheeks mimicked them. Heating face softened rigid lips into delighted twitches.
Cisse thrilled and delighted by the situation, yet more bewildered and flustered. Never receiving such affection before, she lacked boldness to brush it off. Calming her startled heart came first.
"Rumors must be rampant now. What was he thinking...?"
She murmured, toying with petals like lovers. Contrary to troubled tone, her face slipped reason's control.
Indeed, oblivious to flushed cheekbones and smiling lips' long arc.
"Sending this many—what about cleanup? Drying them will be a chore. No idea what he was thinking."
Fussing alone with petals, she suddenly giggled foolishly. Imagining shy Sir Ailes ordering flowers amused her.
No—correcting herself. Recalling his fierce, ruthless quarrels with family knights, he wouldn't shy over flowers. Likely commanded coldly, arrogantly. Still, differing from his Ice Knight moniker, her heart tickled.
Crouching knees to face, she stroked soft petals with the other hand, sighing sweetly.
Thus, debut anxieties—even Emperor dread—melted away.
"Sir Ailes protecting me. Unintentionally, you're shielding me again. Astonishingly."
Moreover, his affection would silence all past gossips.
They might even envy her most romantic morning.
Soon Marie returned. Cisse eyed the head maid entering with stationery and ink, followed by another maid carrying a basket piled with letters.
Indeed, rumors of Sir Ailes's deed had spread. She chuckled wryly again.
The sweetest, most perfect morning across past and present.
***
Today's Debutante Ball would be the most hastily held in imperial history. Unlike last year, it was smaller, somewhat shabby. Though Emperor-approved, ongoing rebel arrests made lavish spectacle tactless.
This morning, another suspected noble—a mere viscount with central political ties—was seized. Three years prior, letters with the late Empress surfaced, unveiling suspicions, leading to arrest. Tragic: his eighteen-year-old daughter was debuting today.
Thus, hall faces were grim. Just afternoon tea time, they'd buzzed enviously over Cisse de Bischwaltz's flowers, gnashing teeth, biting handkerchiefs novel-like. Yet hours later, a new victim emerged.
Victim.
Yes, no fitter word. Nobles swallowed dryly envisioning the bloodied viscount in prison.
Emperor loyalists foamed at ongoing rebel evidence, but all knew it mere pretext to suppress nobles.
The great Emperor struggled for absolute power, targeting easy marks whose absence gaped voids. So-called "examples" drove bloody purges.
"No need to make examples even today. Terrifying lately."
"Indeed. How tight must the leash go? Look at those ashen faces. How to liven up?"
"First such shabby Debutante Ball. Last year was grand. Wouldn't have happened without Duchess Debenzel."
"Lady Sorin funded it—saved from disaster. How much did that spoiled girl pour in?"
Normally, beautiful gentlewomen and cheerful gentlemen would dance joyfully.
Or sip wine to soft music, gossip hot topics over cards at corner tables, flaunt jewels.
But all wore gloomy expressions, moods sunk. New faces entered trembling like doomed—who could cheer?
Rumors swirled a debutante dragged by hair; all wore funeral faces. One lady, gripping chaperone's hand, scanned fearfully upon entry, tripping spectacularly.
Everything disastrous. People cradled foreheads, sighing. Emperor's foul mood spawned worst ball. They'd gladly rewind to flower-gossip joy.
Fortunately, mood eased with Duchess Rosan's entrance. Mild and thoughtful herself, but chatty clueless Lady Sorin accompanying drew eyes—multiply so.
Duchess Rosan arriving with followers heightened intrigue. Knowing their Empress contest, all watched eagerly for clashes.
Topic sparked lively chatter, grand gestures. Some danced to music.
Interest in new faces grew; jokes eased frozen girls. Casual politics amid smoking card-playing men signaled thawed mood.
Cisse de Bischwaltz entered as the ball peaked. With chaperone Duchess Debenzel, but beside her stood not husband Viscount Rad de Bischwaltz—but Sir Michael Aires.
All hushed, staring at today's star.
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
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