Compared to the mage in front of her, Ahwin practically seemed like a smooth talker.
Grrrrrk.
A loud rumble echoed from the mage's stomach.
“Haha...”
Seeing the mage staring so intently at the scones, Penelope pushed the plate of scones toward him and, on a whim, poured him a cup of green herb tea.
“Go ahead and eat.”
“Thank you.”
Apparently, the concept of refusing didn’t exist for him.
As he began munching on the scones with gusto, the mage commented,
“You’re far more considerate than I imagined.”
“...Thank you for the compliment.”
Being praised just for sharing scones—it left Penelope wondering how she came across to others. She decided not to ask, though; it seemed like it would only exhaust her.
While Penelope remained silent, the mage surprised her by asking a question.
“You’re acquainted with Lord Rector, aren’t you?”
“I visited the Grand Tower branch in the capital some time ago. He’s more like a business partner now.”
The mage nodded, though he didn’t seem particularly curious. His expression was tinged with boredom.
“I’ve used one of the magical devices you invented, Penelope. The magical engineering circuit was personally refined by the Tower Master. It’s truly an exquisite piece of work.”
“Haha, thank you.”
Now, that was definitely a compliment.
His eyes lit up the moment he mentioned the Tower Master, suggesting this was the topic he’d wanted to broach all along.
With his unkempt gray hair, droopy eyes, and thick glasses, his appearance screamed “mage.” Come to think of it, most of the mages Penelope had met had looked similar.
‘Ahwin’s striking appearance really stands out now that I think about it.’
Penelope suddenly realized she hadn’t asked the most important question.
“What’s your name, by the way?”
“My name is Caserin, but—”
“You can call me Lube,” interrupted a voice out of nowhere, startling Penelope.
She turned to see another mage with dark circles under his eyes grabbing a scone. Clearly, this one was also a follower of the Tower Master.
Naturally, Penelope was alarmed.
“Eek!”
“You mimic a magpie’s cry quite well,” Lube commented, as if it were a compliment.
Was that supposed to be praise?!
Introducing himself as Lube, the mage bit into the scone. Not to be outdone, Caserin shoved a scone into his mouth as well.
Chomp, chomp.
Nom, nom.
Penelope was too weary to be surprised anymore. She poured Lube a cup of herb tea as well, and he gratefully accepted it.
‘I boiled that tea for myself, but these mages clearly don’t understand the concept of declining anything.’
Holding back a sigh, Penelope began boiling more water. Once the tea had steeped, she finally managed to enjoy a brief moment of peace.
After sipping his tea, Lube suddenly spoke up, as if a thought had just occurred to him.
“By the way, how did you manage to win over the Tower Master?”
“...Are you seriously asking me that right now?”
“Well, you’re the only one here who’s managed it,” Lube replied, as though the answer were obvious.
Compared to these two, Ahwin seemed polished enough to attend a high-society banquet.
“I’m not really sure myself. Maybe you should ask Ahwin directly.”
“The Tower Master doesn’t answer those kinds of questions.”
“...And I can’t fathom why he gets so angry about it,” Caserin added, shaking his head in bewilderment.
“So, you’ve already asked him,” Penelope said, stifling a laugh. The thought of Ahwin dealing with these socially inept mages was so amusing that she couldn’t help but smile.
Just then, a cool yet low voice sounded from behind her.
“What’s going on here?”
“Tower Master!”
“You’re awake?”
Caserin and Lube lit up like children caught red-handed but still hopeful for approval. It almost seemed like tails were wagging behind them.
A vein bulged on Ahwin’s forehead.
“How could I sleep with all this racket?”
“...”
“Did you raise your voices on purpose to wake me up?”
“That wasn’t our—”
“Be quiet.”
“Yes, sir.”
Ahwin glared sharply at the two mages, who had visibly shrunk under his gaze, and issued a warning.
“Let me make this clear—don’t say anything strange to Penelope.”
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“What exactly qualifies as strange—”
“Shut up. Just don’t talk to Penelope at all.”
“...Understood,” Caserin muttered dejectedly. Lube, however, glanced at Penelope as though he still had something to say.
Ahwin pressed down on the back of Lube’s neck with his palm, forcing him forward, and added,
“If you’ve eaten enough, go back to your rooms and sleep.”
“Yes, sir,” both mages replied in unison.
Caserin grabbed Lube by the sleeve and dragged him out of the kitchen.
Despite their appearances—both of them seemed older than Ahwin by a significant margin—they were utterly subservient to the Tower Master.
Finally, the kitchen grew quiet again. Ahwin rubbed his temples, looking both exasperated and drained.
Penelope broke the silence.
“Would you like a cup of tea?”
“...Sure.”
Penelope handed him a cup of perfectly steeped green herb tea. Ahwin accepted it without protest, taking a sip.
“Why are you up at this hour? Couldn’t sleep?”
“Is there any gift you’d like? Think carefully about it.”
Both of them spoke at the same time, then paused, glancing at each other before falling silent.
Ahwin raised an eyebrow.
“Don’t tell me you lost sleep over this?”
“Not to that extent. I was just curious,” Penelope replied, avoiding his gaze. Ahwin smirked knowingly.
“As I’ve said before, I think gifts should reflect the giver’s thoughtfulness. It doesn’t matter what it is, as long as you pick it yourself.”
He seemed blissfully unaware of the universal truth that the hardest option is always “anything.”
“You could at least give me a hint.”
“A hint? Have you been influenced by those mages after spending time with them?”
“Never mind. I’ll think about it myself, so no nagging.”
Ahwin nodded as if that were perfectly reasonable. Penelope pursed her lips but refrained from arguing further. Instead, she glanced at the stove, an idea forming in her mind.
“The Emperor and Empress gifted me a townhouse and a baronial title.”
“I heard.”
“...It’s fine to accept them, right?”
“Didn’t you already gleefully accept them?”
Penelope pressed her lips together, staring daggers at Ahwin. Her fiery gaze seemed to say, What was I supposed to do? Turn down gifts from the Emperor himself?
Ahwin’s shoulders stiffened, and he quickly held up both hands in surrender.
“Okay, okay. If you have something to say, just say it.”
“Now that I think about it, taking such grand gifts so easily might not have been a good idea. Don’t big gifts usually come with big strings attached?”
“And you’re just realizing this now?”
Penelope glared, her eyes practically daring him to say more. Realizing he was on thin ice, Ahwin softened his tone.
“You’re probably going to face a lot more scrutiny moving forward.”
“Of course I will.”
Ahwin answered without hesitation, and Penelope let out an exasperated huff. He flinched slightly, his ears visibly reddening.
She couldn’t help but find his reaction endearing, which only made her feel more sullen.
This is exactly why I didn’t want to attract attention.
But avoiding notice was no longer an option. The newspapers had already broadcasted her name across the capital, and even her retainers were reading about her so-called love life in scandal sheets.
Setting aside the humiliation, the real issue was that she couldn’t afford to leave this unchecked.
I’ve already become too conspicuous. Someone’s bound to start making moves against me.
Penelope was certain. In this world, powerful factions didn’t let rising stars go unchallenged.
Even Elizabeth, the female lead of this story, had to overcome countless obstacles to seize the Emperor’s throne. It was inevitable that malicious forces would start targeting Penelope as well.
Come to think of it, even Rianel’s brother already sees me as a thorn in his side.
Penelope clenched her fists and made a decision.
“If that’s the case, I’ll strike first.”
***
As always, Countess Hinas’ salon was bustling with noblewomen.
The lives of the ladies of high society were marked by elegance and leisure.
They gathered to drink tea, hold book readings, practice embroidery and flower arranging, or enjoy artworks by renowned painters. Some days, they invited opera singers to perform for them.
And lately, whenever they convened, their discussions inevitably turned to the stories that were setting the capital abuzz.