Translator: Nox

Chapter 58

~Chapter 58~

“Really. I came out for a change of pace, but what on earth is this.”

Everyone was watching Daphne carefully. But Daphne seemed oblivious to their words.

“It wasn’t without value—your love, Lady. The one without value was that man.”

Why had those words brought her such comfort?

Just moments ago, surging emotions had sent tears spilling from her eyes. But after crying her heart out, her chest no longer felt heavy or constricted.

‘My love wasn’t without value…….’

Harriet had said it with unyielding resolve, allowing no shred of doubt. To Daphne, it felt like a clear judgment: “You did nothing wrong.”

It was the single sentence that had liberated her from the weight that had crushed her for so long—the nagging question, “Was it my fault?”

‘My love was sincere. He was the one who betrayed it.’

Daphne drew in a deep breath. For the first time in ages, air filled her lungs to the very depths.

“Daphne?”

Someone called to her.

But she made no reply. Instead, she untied the knot of her scarf beneath her chin. The scarf slipped away smoothly, and her hat tumbled softly onto her lap.

A breeze blowing in through the carriage window sent her dazzling silver hair fluttering. Her friends stared at her in astonishment, but Daphne paid them no heed. She murmured softly.

“Did we really know that person at all?”

“Huh? Who?”

“Lady Harriet Listerwell. She seems… so much different from what I imagined.”

Her friends were thinking the same thing.

Reflecting on Harriet’s words from moments before, it hadn’t been some petty, jealous attempt to tear Bella down. If anything, it had been an effort to comfort and encourage Daphne.

“No way… that can’t be…”

Even the friend who denied it sounded uncertain.

‘Harriet Listerwell… could I see her again?’

Daphne gazed out the window with distant eyes. Harriet’s sharp, vivid gaze lingered deeply in her mind.

The popularity of the soap produced at Saint Clarissa Convent showed no signs of fading. Once word spread of the royal supply contract, it sold out day after day.

[The Royal Family’s Patronage for the Marginalized, Embodied in Soap]

[<Angelique>’s New Royal Contract]

[Hearing <Angelique> Anecdotes Straight from the Model Herself]

Even the newspapers from the past few days that Harriet hadn’t gotten around to reading were filled cover to cover with news of the royal contract.

But Harriet felt no excitement whatsoever.

‘This has to be the Duke of Kailas’s handiwork.’

It was Cedric and his mother who had pushed through the royal contract. And Cedric wasn’t the sort to quietly hide away such accomplishments.

Still, she hadn’t expected the papers to spotlight her as the model—or to request an interview, no less.

Harriet’s face flushed red as she looked at the article featuring her photo.

“…enough to stir up scandal—Lady Harriet Listerwell is beautiful enough to make one’s eyes light up. Concerned for her reputation, her guardian sent her to Saint Clarissa Convent for a year. There, Lady Harriet made soap with her own hands while reflecting on sacred teachings…”

The rest of the article went on about the immense care put into making the soap, the purity and luxury of its ingredients, and how the profits supported the convent.

None of that was an issue.

But portraying her as “beautiful enough to invite scandal” was utterly absurd.

‘They make it sound like the scandal happened because I was pretty…….’

Her past was being strangely romanticized. She had no idea if that was good or bad.

It left her feeling a little hollow, too. Her skin had improved, sure, but nothing else had changed—yet people’s gazes kept shifting more and more.

Truth be told, Harriet considered herself utterly ordinary. Average at best, maybe a touch above.

She had grown up in the shadow of her cousin, one of society’s most renowned beauties, so it was only natural to see herself that way.

‘Around fifteen, that’s when they started calling me ugly?’

She had believed it back then.

But looking back now, she wondered if it had all been rumors spread by Bella or her uncle. Maybe even the talk of Bella being society’s top beauty was part of it.

Either way, everything was changing now.

‘I said I was ashamed because I was so ugly, remember, Bella? So you must be over the moon seeing me turn into a beauty, right?’

Imagining Bella ripping the newspaper to shreds in a fury, Harriet burst out laughing.

“Are you the head of the company that makes this medicine?”

“Yes, Your Highness. It’s an honor to meet you.”

Albert knelt on one knee before Second Prince Michael Ron Leopold and bowed deeply.

His expression was courteous, but inside, joy threatened to burst forth.

‘Albert! Word is Second Prince His Highness’s condition improved after taking Angelique!’

Just days ago, when Benedict had delivered the news, Albert had seen it as simply good tidings. He never dreamed he’d face the prince this soon.

Second Prince Michael Ron Leopold was a twenty-five-year-old with the Empress’s golden hair and blue eyes. He was set to wed next year.

Unfortunately, he had suffered from depression and insomnia for the past two or three years.

‘I heard no medicine had any effect… but Angelique truly worked! Incredible!’

Albert had learned from the Firman pharmacist that Angelique was a “medicine for those driven mad by sorrow.” Even so, he hadn’t anticipated such dramatic results.

Moreover, the prince himself serving as proof of its efficacy was an enormous opportunity.

“Your company’s medicine has lifted my spirits immensely. I’ve been sleeping soundly too. I summoned you to offer my thanks.”

“You honor me far too much. If I may presume to ask, Your Highness—how did you first come across Angelique?”

“A friend handed it to me, calling it a ‘mood-lifting medicine.’ Truth be told, I had no great expectations…”

He had assumed it was something like the stimulants people popped at parties.

But Angelique was different. It stirred his libido a touch, but that was beside the point. What truly astonished him was how his low, depressive mood soared in an instant.

Drowning in depression and apathy, Michael had finally begun living like a person again, thanks to Angelique. He could rise from bed, take walks, write letters, eat proper meals.

“You are my lifesaver. I feared I’d never even marry, but now I can live like an ordinary man.”

“It is my greatest honor to bring Your Highness such happiness.”

Albert thrilled with genuine excitement.

Even if Angelique had originally been crafted for nobles’ indulgences, its power to aid a depression sufferer made him feel as if he’d saved all humanity.

But he had no intention of stopping at mere delight. This was far too golden an opportunity.

“Your Highness, if I may make so bold as to request one small favor?”

“Speak it. I’ll aid my benefactor in anything.”

Just the response Albert had hoped for.

“It’s nothing momentous. Merely, if anyone should try to sabotage my business in the future, I hope Your Highness might lend your strength.”

“Hm? Sabotage your business? Is there trouble?”

“Not at present. But as Your Highness knows well, success breeds envy. Should Angelique achieve great triumph, there will doubtless be those blinded by jealousy who seek to tear it down.”

Michael nodded decisively.

“True enough. There are always those who’d destroy what they can’t have themselves.”

“If such a thing occurs, I hope Your Highness would speak out personally on Angelique’s virtues. Only then could I sustain the business and keep producing the medicine.”

Life without Angelique was now unimaginable to Michael.

It was his sole lifeline to living like everyone else. Production must never cease.

“Of course! I’ll back you. This medicine must never run out!”

“My deepest thanks. As a gesture of gratitude, I wish to send Your Highness a month’s supply every month.”

“Hm? Then I’d be the one feeling indebted!”

“Not at all. Witnessing Your Highness’s recovery brings me profound meaning and fulfillment. And it’s hardly expensive, so please accept.”

Michael took two 5-gram packets of powder daily—a month’s worth ran about 3,000 dirams, pocket change for a prince.

Thus, he laughed heartily and accepted it as Albert’s earnest gesture.

Albert, however, had been holding his breath inwardly, fearing refusal.

‘Soon enough, he won’t survive without it. So I must reel him in slowly.

Even at a gold coin per gram down the line, His Highness won’t quit.’

Albert breathed a vast sigh of relief at grasping a royal tie he could never betray.