The outdoor tea room, housed in a glass greenhouse, offers a clear view of the garden. Women, dressed in splendid and elegant attire, had already arrived. They were dressed in luxurious dresses made from expensive imported fabrics and adorned with modest yet sophisticated jewelry.
Most of them are members of the privileged class, including high-ranking nobles, high-ranking officials, and landowners. I had already heard about their appearance and characteristics from Lenny.
Fortunately, Princess Erita was not there.
As expected of Medea, they were the first to greet me, with their jet-black hair, small, white faces, and closely-knit features.
“Hello, nice to meet you.”
“Hello. I’m Diana...”
Claire? Parsene? Allen? Why are there so many names for my surname? I paused for a moment, pondering before speaking again.
“...I’m Diana Parsene. Please call me Diana.”
The woman smiled brightly at my brief self-introduction.
I felt trapped in a flower garden overflowing with a variety of flowers. Unable to adjust to the scent of perfume, powder, and the dazzling array of colors, I just blinked.
Soon, Queen Grace II, dressed in a delicate blue dress, entered, accompanied by her maids of honor. Baroness Mason was also present.
The Queen, who had entered, smiled at me and winked. This is awkward. I don't know what that wink means, but it's sending me into a quagmire of confusion.
The Queen sat elegantly on a chair pulled out for her by her maid and asked me.
“Lady Diana, how is life at the palace?”
“Thank you for making my day so much fun. Thank you.”
The women's gazes turned to me. It felt uncomfortable. I don't like being the center of attention, but I smiled back.
Soon, conversations among the women continued. They talked about their husbands, lovers, and newly acquired luxury items.
Sometimes I would laugh along with them, awkwardly fiddling with my teacup. I wanted to go home.
A table covered in pure white tablecloth covered a table filled with a Sterling pot, teacups, and a strainer adorned with floral patterns. A classic, antique tea set, often purchased in modern times, caught my eye.
A three-tiered tray was filled with scones, cookies, sandwiches, and chocolates. Enjoying tea in ornate, expensive cups and enjoying a leisurely meal is a luxurious experience reserved for the wealthy.
“I guess you’re interested in teacups.”
The Queen asked curiously, perhaps noticing my close observation of the teacup. I nodded slowly.
"Yes. It's like royal porcelain, used only by the royal family. It's light yet sturdy, and the pattern is delicate."
"You have a discerning eye. I'm also very interested in teacups. I enjoy collecting them. It's both a hobby and a pastime."
It seems that I have managed to form a bond with the Queen without being able to do so.
"Me too. It's nice to meet someone with similar interests. Your Majesty, how about Lady Diana joining us for more tea parties? Next time, I'd like to show off my precious teacups."
A graceful and elegant woman with wavy jet-black hair, a round forehead, a high nose, and long, slender eyes joined the group. She had amber eyes and appeared to be in her thirties. She appeared to be the Marchioness Rosalia Wales, wife of the Marquess of Wales, a Privy Councilor and member of the House of Lords.
"Very well, Lady of Wales. I wonder what kind of teacup it is. I would appreciate it if you could also prepare a matching black tea."
"Yes, Your Majesty. A fruity, scented tea would suit you. It comes in a beautiful teacup with a gold rim and a design of pale pink peach blossoms."
“Yes, I think Miss Diana, who is interested in teacups, would like it.”
These kind women, without even asking my opinion, have already decided to force me to participate in future tea parties.
As soon as the Marchioness finished speaking, other women also rushed in, talking passionately about cups and saucers, hoping to be invited to the next tea party.
Anyway, that's how it turned out. I didn't really want to stand out, but it seems I caught the eye of the Queen and the Marchioness.
“By the way, is your mother Medea?”
The Marchioness asked gently. I nodded, recalling the words of Noah and Lieutenant Colonel Groenendaal, who were certain that I was a mixed-race Medea.
“I don’t know much about her, because I only heard she died shortly after I was born. I’ve never seen her before.”
My answer brought a look of regret to the faces of the Queen, the Marchioness, and several other women. Their scrutinizing gazes on my appearance felt burdensome.
“You look a lot like someone.”
The Marchioness quietly set down her teacup and smiled at me. I tried my best to keep my words to myself and simply smiled awkwardly.
The Queen and some people know I'm the admiral's daughter. Even if I'm related to Noah, why would they so readily accept the daughter of an enemy general simply because I have Medea blood?
"Medea's patriotism runs deep. It doesn't matter where you come from, so don't feel too uncomfortable."
As if reading my mind, the Queen spoke in a gentle yet firm tone. Indeed, even in the world I once lived in, there was a case of an officer defecting.
“Yes, thank you, Your Majesty.”
The Marchioness of Wales gave a sweet laugh and looked back and forth between me and the Queen.
"We'll be in touch often, Lady Diana. Her Majesty the Queen seems quite fond of you."
You like me? Why?
“It is an honor for me.”
I nodded, trying to hide my embarrassment. Perhaps only my mouth was smiling. Seeing my creaking smile, the Queen covered her mouth and smiled elegantly.
“I guess this place still feels awkward. You’re cute.”
“Cute... Yes. Thank you.”
I wish everyone would just ignore me, but the women stare at me with curious eyes, never leaving me alone. They keep talking to me, smiling and giggling, and every time I answer, they laugh out loud. I desperately want to go home.
When a lady with turquoise eyes complained that her husband had given her a peridot instead of a diamond, her few quiet words drew a torrent of attention.
"I guess the jewel reminded him of Madam. Your eyes are as beautiful as peridot. The meaning is important."
“Oh my, there’s no way he would think that...”
Her cheeks flushed brightly, and several women clapped in agreement.
"That's right. How romantic. I guess Lady Diana's fiancé is that affectionate."
That's how the story of Noah, known as my fiancé, came up. Single women eagerly joined in the conversation. It was all about how to seduce a man, how to make him fall in love with you. I was exhausted, sharing my own strategies, drawn from my countless romantic experiences.
Some of them seemed so impressed by my story that they even tried to make plans to meet with me privately. "This is difficult," the Queen said, picking up a cookie and turning to the Marchioness.
“Madam, has Prince Hessen arrived today?”
“Yes, Clad and the Prince should be in the garden by now. He said he’d come to greet the Queen.”
“It was a good thing I prepared Young Master's favorite dessert.”
The Queen raised the corners of her lips and smiled faintly. A blush appeared on her cheeks. Who was the Prince that she couldn't hide her joy?
While I was immersed in my own thoughts, a welcoming atmosphere formed as everyone hurriedly touched up their makeup and adjusted their clothes. The two-hour tea party, which felt like two years, finally came to an end.
As I was dragging my tired body back to my room, I saw a tall, muscular man leaning against the wall at the entrance of the hallway, his arms crossed. As he turned, his hair, now almost back to its original color, swayed with his movements.
“Diana, I’ve come to pick you up.”
Noah's eyes narrowed kindly as he looked at me. The women, on their way back to their quarters, saw us and greeted us with a bird-like laughter as they passed by.
They looked at me with affectionate, envious expressions, but this man was clearly there to spy on me. I deliberately looked at Noah with sad, flounder-like eyes.
“I haven’t made any friends yet.”
At my words, Noah's face brightened, and the corners of his mouth curved in delight.
“I knew this would happen, so I came to comfort you.”
I knew it! It was a strangely unpleasant remark, but I laughed mockingly.
"But I received an offer to continue attending the tea party. We also made plans to meet separately."
“Well... that worked out.”
“If this continues, I’ll be able to make a lot of friends, right?”
He was blatantly displeased. I lifted my nose in triumph. As we walked back to my room, Noah told me about a new cafe that had opened in the square.
“Let’s go together next time. The coffee there is delicious.”
“Isn’t it delicious?”
"The employee there broke my coffee three times while bringing it to me. I guess it's a differentiating strategy."
She must have stumbled while looking at Noah's face as she brought it. The scene is so obvious, it's almost as if it's a picture. After all, this man is handsome. This is an objective judgment, not a judgment based on preconceived notions.
Is this guy bragging to me? I hope he's not seeing through my plan to make him feel a sense of crisis.
As I entered the arched hallway leading to the central corridor, doubts welling in my mind, I saw a black-haired boy who looked to be about seven years old running towards me quickly.
Contrary to my expectation that the child would simply pass by and find his mother, he flew like a bird and came to me, nestled in the folds of my skirt.
“Who, who are you?”
I was so flustered by the sudden hug from a stranger that I even stuttered.
The child clutched the hem of my skirt tightly with his tiny hands, his face buried in sorrow. As the boy rubbed his head, static electricity surged through it, causing a few strands of hair to stand upright.
His small shoulders, barely two spans tall, occasionally trembled. A sob escaped the child, who buried his face in my arms.
I looked at Noah with puzzled eyes, then down at the boy's round head. Noah, who had been quietly looking down at the boy, spoke in a serious voice.
“Stay away from my fiancée.”
What on earth is this guy talking about to that kid?
The child who had been holding onto the hem of my skirt and constantly shedding tears and snot raised his head.
Oh my, what a beautiful face, with black hair and red eyes, already adorned with beauty. His moist, red eyes, brimming with tears, looked up at me with pity.
Despite Noah's warning, the child's tiny hands wrapped tightly around my waist. He buried his face in my arms again, sniffing and whining like a puppy, then slowly raised his head.
The words the pretty boy spoke to me were like a bolt from the blue, as if the Earth were splitting in half.
Most of them are members of the privileged class, including high-ranking nobles, high-ranking officials, and landowners. I had already heard about their appearance and characteristics from Lenny.
Fortunately, Princess Erita was not there.
As expected of Medea, they were the first to greet me, with their jet-black hair, small, white faces, and closely-knit features.
“Hello, nice to meet you.”
“Hello. I’m Diana...”
Claire? Parsene? Allen? Why are there so many names for my surname? I paused for a moment, pondering before speaking again.
“...I’m Diana Parsene. Please call me Diana.”
The woman smiled brightly at my brief self-introduction.
I felt trapped in a flower garden overflowing with a variety of flowers. Unable to adjust to the scent of perfume, powder, and the dazzling array of colors, I just blinked.
Soon, Queen Grace II, dressed in a delicate blue dress, entered, accompanied by her maids of honor. Baroness Mason was also present.
The Queen, who had entered, smiled at me and winked. This is awkward. I don't know what that wink means, but it's sending me into a quagmire of confusion.
The Queen sat elegantly on a chair pulled out for her by her maid and asked me.
“Lady Diana, how is life at the palace?”
“Thank you for making my day so much fun. Thank you.”
The women's gazes turned to me. It felt uncomfortable. I don't like being the center of attention, but I smiled back.
Soon, conversations among the women continued. They talked about their husbands, lovers, and newly acquired luxury items.
Sometimes I would laugh along with them, awkwardly fiddling with my teacup. I wanted to go home.
A table covered in pure white tablecloth covered a table filled with a Sterling pot, teacups, and a strainer adorned with floral patterns. A classic, antique tea set, often purchased in modern times, caught my eye.
A three-tiered tray was filled with scones, cookies, sandwiches, and chocolates. Enjoying tea in ornate, expensive cups and enjoying a leisurely meal is a luxurious experience reserved for the wealthy.
“I guess you’re interested in teacups.”
The Queen asked curiously, perhaps noticing my close observation of the teacup. I nodded slowly.
"Yes. It's like royal porcelain, used only by the royal family. It's light yet sturdy, and the pattern is delicate."
"You have a discerning eye. I'm also very interested in teacups. I enjoy collecting them. It's both a hobby and a pastime."
It seems that I have managed to form a bond with the Queen without being able to do so.
"Me too. It's nice to meet someone with similar interests. Your Majesty, how about Lady Diana joining us for more tea parties? Next time, I'd like to show off my precious teacups."
A graceful and elegant woman with wavy jet-black hair, a round forehead, a high nose, and long, slender eyes joined the group. She had amber eyes and appeared to be in her thirties. She appeared to be the Marchioness Rosalia Wales, wife of the Marquess of Wales, a Privy Councilor and member of the House of Lords.
"Very well, Lady of Wales. I wonder what kind of teacup it is. I would appreciate it if you could also prepare a matching black tea."
"Yes, Your Majesty. A fruity, scented tea would suit you. It comes in a beautiful teacup with a gold rim and a design of pale pink peach blossoms."
“Yes, I think Miss Diana, who is interested in teacups, would like it.”
These kind women, without even asking my opinion, have already decided to force me to participate in future tea parties.
As soon as the Marchioness finished speaking, other women also rushed in, talking passionately about cups and saucers, hoping to be invited to the next tea party.
Anyway, that's how it turned out. I didn't really want to stand out, but it seems I caught the eye of the Queen and the Marchioness.
“By the way, is your mother Medea?”
The Marchioness asked gently. I nodded, recalling the words of Noah and Lieutenant Colonel Groenendaal, who were certain that I was a mixed-race Medea.
“I don’t know much about her, because I only heard she died shortly after I was born. I’ve never seen her before.”
My answer brought a look of regret to the faces of the Queen, the Marchioness, and several other women. Their scrutinizing gazes on my appearance felt burdensome.
“You look a lot like someone.”
The Marchioness quietly set down her teacup and smiled at me. I tried my best to keep my words to myself and simply smiled awkwardly.
The Queen and some people know I'm the admiral's daughter. Even if I'm related to Noah, why would they so readily accept the daughter of an enemy general simply because I have Medea blood?
"Medea's patriotism runs deep. It doesn't matter where you come from, so don't feel too uncomfortable."
As if reading my mind, the Queen spoke in a gentle yet firm tone. Indeed, even in the world I once lived in, there was a case of an officer defecting.
“Yes, thank you, Your Majesty.”
The Marchioness of Wales gave a sweet laugh and looked back and forth between me and the Queen.
"We'll be in touch often, Lady Diana. Her Majesty the Queen seems quite fond of you."
You like me? Why?
“It is an honor for me.”
I nodded, trying to hide my embarrassment. Perhaps only my mouth was smiling. Seeing my creaking smile, the Queen covered her mouth and smiled elegantly.
“I guess this place still feels awkward. You’re cute.”
“Cute... Yes. Thank you.”
I wish everyone would just ignore me, but the women stare at me with curious eyes, never leaving me alone. They keep talking to me, smiling and giggling, and every time I answer, they laugh out loud. I desperately want to go home.
When a lady with turquoise eyes complained that her husband had given her a peridot instead of a diamond, her few quiet words drew a torrent of attention.
"I guess the jewel reminded him of Madam. Your eyes are as beautiful as peridot. The meaning is important."
“Oh my, there’s no way he would think that...”
Her cheeks flushed brightly, and several women clapped in agreement.
"That's right. How romantic. I guess Lady Diana's fiancé is that affectionate."
That's how the story of Noah, known as my fiancé, came up. Single women eagerly joined in the conversation. It was all about how to seduce a man, how to make him fall in love with you. I was exhausted, sharing my own strategies, drawn from my countless romantic experiences.
Some of them seemed so impressed by my story that they even tried to make plans to meet with me privately. "This is difficult," the Queen said, picking up a cookie and turning to the Marchioness.
“Madam, has Prince Hessen arrived today?”
“Yes, Clad and the Prince should be in the garden by now. He said he’d come to greet the Queen.”
“It was a good thing I prepared Young Master's favorite dessert.”
The Queen raised the corners of her lips and smiled faintly. A blush appeared on her cheeks. Who was the Prince that she couldn't hide her joy?
While I was immersed in my own thoughts, a welcoming atmosphere formed as everyone hurriedly touched up their makeup and adjusted their clothes. The two-hour tea party, which felt like two years, finally came to an end.
As I was dragging my tired body back to my room, I saw a tall, muscular man leaning against the wall at the entrance of the hallway, his arms crossed. As he turned, his hair, now almost back to its original color, swayed with his movements.
“Diana, I’ve come to pick you up.”
Noah's eyes narrowed kindly as he looked at me. The women, on their way back to their quarters, saw us and greeted us with a bird-like laughter as they passed by.
They looked at me with affectionate, envious expressions, but this man was clearly there to spy on me. I deliberately looked at Noah with sad, flounder-like eyes.
“I haven’t made any friends yet.”
At my words, Noah's face brightened, and the corners of his mouth curved in delight.
“I knew this would happen, so I came to comfort you.”
I knew it! It was a strangely unpleasant remark, but I laughed mockingly.
"But I received an offer to continue attending the tea party. We also made plans to meet separately."
“Well... that worked out.”
“If this continues, I’ll be able to make a lot of friends, right?”
He was blatantly displeased. I lifted my nose in triumph. As we walked back to my room, Noah told me about a new cafe that had opened in the square.
“Let’s go together next time. The coffee there is delicious.”
“Isn’t it delicious?”
"The employee there broke my coffee three times while bringing it to me. I guess it's a differentiating strategy."
She must have stumbled while looking at Noah's face as she brought it. The scene is so obvious, it's almost as if it's a picture. After all, this man is handsome. This is an objective judgment, not a judgment based on preconceived notions.
Is this guy bragging to me? I hope he's not seeing through my plan to make him feel a sense of crisis.
As I entered the arched hallway leading to the central corridor, doubts welling in my mind, I saw a black-haired boy who looked to be about seven years old running towards me quickly.
Contrary to my expectation that the child would simply pass by and find his mother, he flew like a bird and came to me, nestled in the folds of my skirt.
“Who, who are you?”
I was so flustered by the sudden hug from a stranger that I even stuttered.
The child clutched the hem of my skirt tightly with his tiny hands, his face buried in sorrow. As the boy rubbed his head, static electricity surged through it, causing a few strands of hair to stand upright.
His small shoulders, barely two spans tall, occasionally trembled. A sob escaped the child, who buried his face in my arms.
I looked at Noah with puzzled eyes, then down at the boy's round head. Noah, who had been quietly looking down at the boy, spoke in a serious voice.
“Stay away from my fiancée.”
What on earth is this guy talking about to that kid?
The child who had been holding onto the hem of my skirt and constantly shedding tears and snot raised his head.
Oh my, what a beautiful face, with black hair and red eyes, already adorned with beauty. His moist, red eyes, brimming with tears, looked up at me with pity.
Despite Noah's warning, the child's tiny hands wrapped tightly around my waist. He buried his face in my arms again, sniffing and whining like a puppy, then slowly raised his head.
The words the pretty boy spoke to me were like a bolt from the blue, as if the Earth were splitting in half.
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