“...Didn’t come?”
“That’s right.”
Tap.
Only then did the maid release Beatty’s wrist, finally letting go.
“Make sure you say it that way from now on.”
As Beatty clutched her reddened wrist, a mocking voice drifted to her ears.
“How do you think I’d feel if some worthless brat spoke to me informally?”
There weren’t many sources from which Beatty could learn.
So... if I speak informally, they’ll get mad at me.
That was why—even when faced with rudeness or outright insults—
“You understand, don’t you? Otherwise... I might get very angry.”
Since no one ever corrected her,
Then, if they get angry, I just have to speak formally.
Young Beatty swallowed the thought whole, believing it to be common sense.
“Yes... No, I mean, yes.”
“Good.”
The maid relished the superiority she felt as she pressed down on the noble child.
“Well done.”
Laughter, thick and sticky like muddy water, filled the corridor.
***
No matter how kind the people here are...
Such warmth was something she was unaccustomed to.
Beatty didn’t want to act improperly and upset the kind people around her.
A half-blood noble using informal speech? They’ll get angry.
Nod.
With that thought in mind, she nodded to herself.
Lost in her brief recollection, she failed to notice the way Aether’s gaze had turned dangerously cold.
“‘Not even a proper noble child’... huh.”
His voice, lowered and steady, coiled like a predator lying in wait.
“Again?”
“Huh...?”
Beatty looked up, puzzled.
By the time she saw Aether’s face, however, his expression had already shifted—his usual bright smile firmly in place, masking all traces of his earlier hostility.
“Have you heard anything else like that?”
“Well...”
It wasn’t something she particularly wanted to say out loud.
“Half-blood?”
Crunch.
‘...Huh?’
It sounded like teeth grinding together.
But when she looked up again, all she saw was Aether’s usual relaxed smile.
“I see...”
His voice had dropped even lower—like a predator lowering itself, ready to pounce on its prey.
“Who said that?”
“Who?”
Faced with the vague question, Beatty tilted her head uncertainly.
“Why? Can’t remember their name?”
“Uh... I don’t know that many names.”
“...‘That many’?”
Aether didn’t miss the implication behind her words.
“Well, everyone in the capital mansion called me that.”
It wasn’t something that could be traced back to a single person—the servants of the mansion had long since made “half-blood” her de facto title.
“I never really heard their names directly...”
Aether’s eyes gleamed—sharp, probing, and laced with something more sinister—as he listened to her hesitant explanation.
Beatty wanted to answer him properly, but the truth was, she didn’t know.
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The servants who delighted in mocking her had never introduced themselves to her politely.
‘They never spoke to me directly... unless it was to torment me.’
Other than those moments, no one had ever really spoken to Beatty.
‘The only names I know are the ones I overheard them using with each other... Should I even say them?’
Fortunately, before she could struggle with that dilemma any further, Aether spoke first.
“‘Everyone,’ huh.”
His eyes darkened further, the chill in them growing more pronounced.
What had been a simple, casual inquiry had suddenly turned into something far uglier than he had anticipated.
He hadn’t expected the very way she spoke to be tainted by that house’s shadow.
‘...Disgusting.’
It felt like getting hit in the head with a rock.
“......”
“Prince Aether?”
Beatty, sensing the prolonged silence, looked up at him with confusion.
“Ah, my bad.”
With a bright smile, Aether finally spoke again.
“I just remembered something I forgot to take care of.”
His smile was still there—but this time, it was ice cold.
***
The First Prince left, saying he had forgotten to pass something along to Carl.
‘So, despite everything, he must get along well with my brother.’
Before leaving, he had also said something strange.
“Oh. From now on, you’d better stop using that formal speech.”
Beatty had been bewildered, unsure what he meant. But then, with that same effortless smile, he added:
“For now, why don’t you try speaking casually with me?”
As if she could! Speaking informally to a prince was unthinkable. Beatty pressed her lips together in silence.
Seeing that, the prince chuckled and decided on his own:
“We’ll practice together next time.”
The First Prince is... kind of a strange person.
That was Beatty’s conclusion. She resolved to avoid him as much as possible from now on.
“If you need anything, my lady, please call for me.”
“Yes, thank you.”
After helping her out of her banquet dress, the maid left the room.
Now dressed in comfortable indoor clothes, Beatty plopped down onto her bed.
‘Normally, I’d be asleep by now.’
Her father, ever concerned about health, had instilled the habit of early bedtime, and she was used to it.
But tonight, sleep didn’t come at all.
Maybe it’s because I attended such a big banquet for the first time.
So many people had been there.
The banquets she had only ever read about in books had been far more dazzling than she had imagined.
Of course, what she didn’t know was that Duke Aslan had poured in enough funds to host ten banquets elsewhere just to ensure his daughter’s first one was perfect.
Completely unaware of this, Beatty simply thought all banquets were naturally that extravagant, setting an impossibly high standard in her mind.
As she happily reflected on how well the event had gone—
“Oh!”
She suddenly remembered something, sitting up abruptly.
On her desk, a lone glass bottle sat untouched.
‘I was supposed to bring that to Father!’
It was a transparent potion bottle, tinged with a faint green hue—the most refined version of the Wermut Potion Tea she had produced.
‘Now that I think about it, I should probably report to him, too.’
After all, it was her father who had given her permission to present both the macramé decorations and the Wermut Potion Tea at the banquet.
And since they had both received a positive reception, she thought it only right to report the results to him.
‘Who knows, maybe he’ll even invest in the business later.’
If she continued accumulating small successes like this, then someday—in the distant future, when she established her own trading company—perhaps she could secure a small initial investment from him.
A perfectly logical calculation.
Nodding to herself, Beatty picked up the potion bottle, placed it in her beloved bag, and set off toward the Duke’s office with light steps.
Just as she was about to turn the corner leading to the Duke’s office—
‘Huh?’
Beatty’s steps halted.
She sensed something strange in the air.
The Duke’s office was always surrounded by a solemn atmosphere. Even the aides passing through usually spoke in hushed voices.
But tonight, there was an unusual commotion.
‘What’s going on?’
It was odd.
Tilting her head, Beatty carefully hid herself behind the corner, peeking out just enough to see.
‘So many people...’
She had never seen so many gathered outside the Duke’s office before.
Something big must be happening.
Maybe she should come back later?
As she hesitated, her gaze darted around.
And then—
She saw something.
“!”
Her eyes widened in shock.
Someone familiar.
In an unexpected situation.
***
“W-why are you doing this to me?!”
Her upper body tightly bound, Pirina shrieked as she was dragged into the room.
‘No... my plan couldn’t have been exposed, could it?’
Her eyes darted around, searching for an ally, but then—
Her gaze met the Duke’s.
The quiet murderous intent emanating from him was suffocating.
“Hiiik!”
A hideous wheezing sound escaped her lips—like a punctured bellows—as an instinctive fear overtook her.
“...Viscount Siurus.”
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The Duke’s voice, filled with restrained fury, carried a low growl, barely suppressing the dangerous bloodlust boiling beneath the surface.
The deep, guttural snarl of a beast made the hairs on Pirina’s body stand on end.
For a moment—without realizing it—she nearly turned around to flee.
“Oh no, you don’t.”
“Ahk! How dare—!”
The soldiers restraining her yanked the ropes tighter. Pirina clenched her teeth in frustration, her voice rising.
“You—! Do you think you’ll get away with this?! You lowly mongrels!”
She thrashed like a flailing fish, her bound torso writhing as she hurled curses.
The soldiers holding her frowned in disgust.
“I am a viscount with access to the royal palace! I can even request an audience with the Second Queen herself! And yet, you dare treat me like a criminal?!”
Her face flushed red, veins bulging from screaming so loudly.
She took a deep breath to continue—
But—
Step. Step.
She couldn’t say another word.
The Duke was approaching.
Like a predator deciding when to break its prey’s neck, his gaze locked onto her—tightening around her throat without touching her.
The moment his piercing golden eyes landed on her, she was completely paralyzed by terror.
“......”
Those unblinking, silent eyes held a deadly promise—that at any moment, he could tear her apart.
“D-Duke...”
Her frozen tongue barely managed to form words.
“This... this is all a misunderstanding.”
“A misunderstanding, you say...”
Srrrrng.
A blade rang as it was drawn from its sheath.
The air thickened with murderous intent.
The Duke’s voice, heavy with undeniable threat, sliced through the silence.