Translator: Nox

51 - Pieces of the Broken Glass Slipper

Shattered Glass Slipper Shards, Episode 51

==========

Soon the carriage stopped in front of the general store, and I got out with the help of a knight. The store was still crowded with people.

With Marie's help, I squeezed through the crowd and entered the store. Then I called a clerk and ordered them to guide me to the owner.

"Welcome. It's a pleasure to see you again."

The store owner, as if remembering me, showed a wide, beaming smile. He then reached out fussily, intending to kiss the back of my hand, but I politely refused.

"You don't need to stand on ceremony. I'll gratefully accept your kind intentions."

"Oh, what brings you here today?"

"I came to buy paper and quills."

"You're in luck. We've just received some top-quality items that I think you'll adore. Let me show you."

He whispered something to a clerk. After a moment, the clerk returned with a blue box, its subtle embroidered patterns hinting at its luxury.

The owner opened the box and showed me its contents. It held quills of various colors, all ornate and beautiful. The ivory-colored shafts, in particular, looked exceptionally fine at first glance.

"Aren't they exquisite? They're similar to those supplied to the Imperial Palace."

"I see."

I picked up a quill with a reddish hue. Its ornate yet proud demeanor reminded me of Irene de Dibenzel. The shape and feel were undoubtedly of the highest quality. It seemed perfect for a gift.

"This one will do."

"An excellent choice. I knew you would like it."

The owner grinned broadly. He seemed excited that I intended to buy it without haggling. He stated the price of the quill was two gold coins and offered the paper for free. Thanks to that, I received a bundle of the latest fashionable paper.

Having bought everything I planned, I had Marie handle the payment and turned to leave. My next stop was the dress shop to buy a new gown.

However, someone roughly pushed past me, causing me to lose my balance and stumble forward. Or rather, I almost fell. That is, if not for the hand that caught my waist.

A low chuckle drifted into my ear. The calm, soft sound was very familiar.

"This is the second time we've met like this."

Theodore Vitrice. It was him.

"Young Lord Vitrice."

I twisted my body, freeing my waist from his grasp. My startled heart pounded with ragged breaths, but my wariness of him came first. The shock from our last encounter was that profound.

Therefore, displeasure outweighed my gratitude for his help. I disliked this man who sought to twist what I knew. Yet, gratitude for his assistance came first. With a stiff neck, I managed a curt bow.

"Thank you. I seem to be indebted to you again."

"Not at all. Are you planning to head outside? Allow me to escort you."

Young Lord Vitrice extended his hand to me. I gazed down at his hand, clad in a white glove. I had boldly declared I feared no danger before, but now, as he offered his hand, I felt a distinct hesitation.

"I appreciate the offer, but I have a knight accompanying me. Please forgive my rudeness."

"Not at all. You may forgive my rudeness, Your Ladyship."

Before I could react, he grabbed my hand and strode out of the store. I was pulled so suddenly that I had no chance to resist.

Behind me, Marie's voice calling out to me echoed plaintively. The knight who had accompanied me into the store was uselessly lost in the crowd, flustered and unable to act.

I tried to pull my hand away, but it was no use. Was the difference in strength between a man and a woman truly this great? I could only feel it anew. His back, as I saw it, seemed like an unyielding iron wall. A steadfast back, unwavering in any way.

But I could not feel relief. I could only bite my lip, suppressing a quiet, burning anger.

Who are you to dare drag me by the hand!

As soon as we were outside the store, he released my hand. As if to say, 'Don't be angry,' he shrugged his shoulders and wrinkled his nose, which was quite charming. His innocent actions, crossing the delicate line between boy and man, were captivating. The white teeth revealed by his slightly parted lips further enhanced his allure.

So, any ordinary woman would have blushed and merely fiddled with her wrist. Any ordinary woman who felt nothing.

I retorted with a cold tone, mocking his behavior.

"Your Ladyship displays a boyish demeanor."

"It is innocence that is the most dangerous charm."

"And that means there is much to learn."

"Oh dear."

Theodore shrugged again, looking troubled.

"I did ask for your understanding in advance."

"But you did not ask for my consent."

"Then, Your Ladyship, would you bestow your grace upon me? Will you forgive me for not asking for your consent?"

"Is 'forgiveness' the only thing you have to say?"

"Oh dear, you seem quite angry. Then, what must I do to appease your wrath?"

Instead of answering, I stared intently at his face. His brazen countenance, showing no sign of remorse, was infuriatingly handsome. His softly blinking eyes held the sophistication of someone who knew their own charm.

The slight upward curve of his lips, hinting at mischief, was filled with amusement at the current situation. Because of this, I realized. No matter what I asked for, he would not respond sincerely.

"No, I spoke out of turn."

"Your Ladyship is far more generous than I thought."

Young Lord Vitrice's tone was unreserved. I felt dumbfounded by his way of speaking, which so readily broke down the walls between strangers. He spoke as if he and I were something more than we were.

If I were to retort angrily now, it would undoubtedly lead to an endless verbal spat, so I responded by pressing my lips together tightly.

"What brings you to the store this time?"

"Personal matters."

I replied quickly and moved on. I decided to ignore him, without even a perfunctory greeting. But Vitrice's actions were swift.

He began walking beside me, as if I had granted him permission to accompany me. He stopped when I stopped, and walked when I walked, clearly wanting to continue the conversation. It was very different from last time, when he had said his piece and disappeared.

So, I asked him directly. My intention was to peer into each other's true feelings rather than waste time on empty conversation.

"Is there something you wish to say to me?"

"Don't you have something you wish to ask me?"

"Not at all."

"Nor do I."

"Then are we going the same way?"

"You seem uncomfortable with my presence, Your Ladyship."

Good heavens. I let out a low gasp and said to him,

"You clearly haven't learned the virtue of consideration! How can you be so rude?"

"Oh dear, I didn't intend to make you angry."

My patience, which had been hanging by a thread, was about to snap at his words. I swallowed the sigh that threatened to escape and stopped walking. Then, suppressing the urge to slap that brazen face, I spoke calmly.

"Haven't I already thanked you for your help? If you have no ill will in attaching a scandal to a girl who hasn't even debuted in society, wouldn't it be best to withdraw now?"

"Why do you keep being so wary?"

"Wary?"

"If not..."

Young Lord Vitrice chuckled, a sound that rumbled in his throat, and reached out to me. He then gently tucked a strand of hair behind my ear and whispered tenderly, but even this simple gesture sent a shiver of fear through me, as if my heart had frozen.

"How can your eyes not tremble like this?"

I felt like I was about to scream. His gaze, which seemed to pierce my very soul, sent a chill down my spine.

But if I were to evade him now, it would be exactly as he wished, so I forced my trembling lips into a smile. Hoping my voice would sound normal.

"It's because Your Ladyship has come so close that I'm embarrassed. You're truly too much. To make me say such things."

Thinking back, our first conversation had been about Madame de Chateauroux. He had called himself a 'beast that craves bones with flesh still on them' and admitted to being a dangerous person.

And in subsequent encounters, he had mentioned Benjamin Chocquet, once again signaling his interest in Madame de Chateauroux. Like a riddle, an unknown entity. Afterward, he would step back and watch my reaction, as if expecting something.

So, I couldn't understand. What exactly did he want me to do?

To tremble in fear? To spill my heart out without reservation? Or to gauge something? What, precisely?

A moment of silence followed. It was not a sweet silence in response to my embarrassment, but a silent battle between us.

After a short while, Theodore Vitrice spoke.

"I heard that Madame Chateauroux is paying attention to a certain young lady these days. It seems she plans to invite that lady to the palace soon with the Emperor's approval. Do you happen to know anything about this?"

"This is the first I've heard of it."

He reached out and took my hand again. Then he bowed his head and kissed the back of my hand. The touch of another's lips on my skin was chillingly cold. Goosebumps seemed to erupt from where his lips met my skin.

"Then I have the honor of being the first to inform you. I hope you have a pleasant time."

And then, as if he had been following me all along, he turned and disappeared without a backward glance.

I did not stop him as he left. His cryptic words, uttered at every meeting, bothered me, and I had no desire to continue the conversation.

As in the past, Madame de Chateauroux was a tremendous scandal-maker, and every one of her actions caused a stir.

Therefore, the matter approved by the Emperor would have undoubtedly spread throughout the palace, and there was no reason why this man wouldn't have heard of it. The problem lay in his attitude, which was convinced that the 'young lady' in question was me.

Could a mere Young Lord, with a title that was likely insignificant, possibly verify the contents of a letter addressed to Madame de Chateauroux? It was absurd. Would the security surrounding the Emperor's favored mistress be so lax?

Therefore, I need information. I truly need it. I need someone who can tell me everything about the palace's secret affairs for my sake. Those who can manipulate rumors and gossip, whores!

I recalled the face of someone who had acted like a haughty cat and bit my lip.

Perinnil.

I must call her.