Chapter 15
Chapter – 15
“Why do you always blame me for leading you on? Maybe examine your own actions sometime.”
Leo toyed with nearby trinkets inside the fitting area as measurements wrapped up. His voice carried a hint of genuine grievance.
She cocked her head in confusion.
“I’ve done nothing to lure you in.”
“So what do you call it?”
“Just pleasing the crowd.”
The attendant finished jotting notes and vanished into the bustle. Tonight’s show outfits demanded their full attention elsewhere.
She had shelled out a fortune, after all, earning her some leeway.
With the room clear, her gaze drifted over the glittering pins and clips on display. She voiced her reasoning aloud.
“Performers thrive on captivating fans. It’s essential.”
Stars never dialed fans for free. Live theater folk mirrored idols more than screen stars, sharing air with spectators. That bond fueled every gesture.
Leo eyed the accessory in her grasp, voice tentative.
“Does that one appeal to you?”
“Definitely.”
“Want me to get it?”
Her face twisted in disbelief.
“You?”
Laughter bubbled up from her.
Leo scowled in response.
“Ouch. That stings.”
Silence hung briefly.
She winced inwardly. What a careless jab at the man destined for the throne.
“My show’s earnings cover trinkets like this easily, Master Leo.”
“A slave handing coin to her owner? Pathetic creature.”
Such words would spin a famous rebel in his tomb.
She summoned a clerk nearby.
“Wrap this one up.”
She selected a fancy bloom-adorned pin from the shelf—luxurious, yet mismatched for her. No matter. It served another purpose.
Passing the package his way, she nodded toward him.
“Let him cover it.”
Leo stared, puzzled by her rejecting his gift only to purchase it herself. Still, he paid without protest.
He must have come prepared to splurge.
Either way, mission accomplished.
“You keep it,” she instructed.
“Me? With that? Master, what do you imagine I am?”
“Not for now. Save it for a girl who steals your heart.”
Take Elena Burbidge, for instance.
In a year and a half, House Burbidge would shield Leo Pierre. The marquisate would knight him into imperial service, slipping him palace access. Elena’s devotion swayed her father crucially. A doting daughter’s crush sweetened the risk of rebellion.
His handsome features proved a lifelong asset, just as he claimed.
Yet this oblivious hero botched romance at every turn. He spurned the heroine’s love, dismissed her aid, courting disaster repeatedly.
“One day, a lady will captivate you. Win her over fully. And whatever you do, heed her wishes.”
Her stare sharpened.
Time to drill sense into this natural charmer who faltered with his true match.
Leo’s gaze on the pin faded to blankness.
“You’re handing this over for my sake?”
His tone shifted oddly.
Was he absorbing her counsel?
Before the thought settled, he lifted his chin, beaming once more.
“Fine. Your turn, Master.”
He thrust it back casually.
This kid defied all logic. She offered veteran wisdom from book knowledge, wasted.
Exasperated, she headed for the exit. Time for costumes.
Then chaos erupted.
Beyond the glass, a severe woman spotted her and glared. Dark tresses swept upward, black gown severe.
Something about her tugged at memory.
The entrance flew wide.
“Luiza Messena. Ignoring family greetings now?”
Her identity clicked instantly.
Luiza’s aunt. That auction house face—ecstatic bidder on the Messena main estate, cheering wildly.
Father scorned my branch line status, but I’ve claimed the heart of it!
Catherine Herotia.
Messena’s collateral kin, she orchestrated the duchy’s ruin. Dragging in her Herotia merchants and grandfather alike, she piled on debts. Now Count Herotia clung to imperial favor, rebuilding power.
Yet when purges hit the emperor’s circle, Herotia slipped overseas unscathed.
While Luiza perished.
A villain worth despising.
Still, potential value lingered.
“Greetings, Aunt. Ages since last.”
Her assessment complete, she curtsied flawlessly—Grand Tour polish from lavish European jaunts.
“Naturally. Tarnishing Messena’s name kept you too occupied to recall kin.”
“The auction, you mean? Yet you hustled hardest, urging servants to snag bargains like ‘grab them cheap.’ I watched.”
Her query landed flat.
Catherine’s features warped. She pivoted sharply.
“Auction alone? What of theater scandals with that actor, in your late father’s haunt? Unwed, invading your betrothed’s home! Shameless!”
“Oh, that. Right.”
She dipped her head calmly.
“Kept me occupied, yes.”
Eyes flicked to Leo lingering back there. Join me.
His golden gaze fixed on Catherine with veiled intensity.
Did he place her too?
Calinan’s ally would seethe.
She yanked him close, flashing a triumphant grin. Parading her prize.
“Isn’t he stunning? My latest purchase.”
“W-what?!”
Catherine gaped, glee flickering beneath shock.
She’d banked on inheriting after brother’s death. Grandfather picked Luiza instead.
Jealousy gnawed her existence, driving that reckless estate grab.
Delight now stemmed from the chosen heir’s foolish whims.
Twisted soul.
“No surprise Father misjudged heirs. Blindly backing a dimwit like you…”
“Dimwit.”
Pre-fall, no side branch dared slur the duke’s heir.
Power gone, words flowed free.
True Luiza would rage, storm out, fueling gossip.
Not her style.
“Boys like this? Pure gold. Ticket sales boomed—I’ll rebuild wealth fast!”
Smile radiant.
Leo watched sidelong; she ignored.
Catherine’s laugh rang empty.
“You’ve shifted. Never this bubbly.”
Scheming glint emerged.
“Head lost in fantasies. Your fault the duchy crumbled, yet men consume you.”
Pretending concern, her hand grazed the cheek.
Revulsion surged.
Contact crossed a line.
“Pity my naive niece. News: a grand gala at Messena main estate soon.”
Predictable.
Original tale confirmed it—post-purchase bashes to flaunt, lacking status. Daughter’s suitors needed luring.
Vain, eyeing noble crowds. Luiza bait sweetened it.
“Handsome crowds?”
“Plenty. Invitation yours.”
Magnanimous, trap sprung in her eyes.
She’d hooked deeper.
A star actor prospect awaited there.
“Bring fiancé… or this actor pet. A show would thrill. Count Arno’s too rigid.”
Blunt swap for fiancé, humiliation ploy.
Perfect.
Ideal stage for her vision before the talent.
Feigning reluctance.
“Might need a gown. No payout yet—funds tight. No dress, no performance…”
“Eh?”
“Guess I’ll skip…”
“I’ll fund it!”
Catherine blurted, tense. Desperation clear.
Theater buzz spread far.
Pitiful mask on.
“Plus Romeo’s garb here…”
“That too…!”
Leo slid an arm round her waist gently, interrupting.
“Madam’s aid feels unwise. Her coffers seem strained.”
Eyes locked on Catherine.
“Isn’t that so?”
Bold taunt.
He backed her play perfectly—noted her grift, mirrored her cues.
Eye shift pre-punchline, audience gaze on delivery. Masterful.
Catherine scowled.
“I’ll handle everything. Herotia grips firm anchors—Messena lacked them.”
Firm anchor.
Inner chuckle rose.
Snapped soon enough.
Costumes secured—victory.
Theater arrived, cast tardy as predicted.
Save one.
“Benvolio?”
The pink-haired actor hunched over lines, soft features intent.
His actual name escaped her.
He jolted, toppling rearward.
“Eep! M-Milady! Apologies! Early rehearsal, nothing more… not lurking!”
“I’m delayed, really.”
Others worse.
Bemused by his flush, she sat.
He flapped silently, bursting odd.
“Er… be rough with me, please!”
Stunned pause.
A chill sigh echoed.
“Insolence. Shall I end him?”
Leo’s ice edged the words.
Right—future Sword Master.
Face soured at the reminder.
“Stand down. No replacement—show crumbles.”
“Eek! Wrong intent! I-I… aspire to act!”
Who phrases it thus?
Expression soured further.
