Noah and I headed to the Marquis of Wales's mansion for a formal dinner and social gathering in time for dinner.
I wanted to use the usual excuse of being sick and not being able to go, but...
If that happened, the Marchioness might come storming into the mansion again, leading Daniel with a cannon-like fruit juice in one hand.
I sat quietly in the passenger seat, wearing a simple Art Nouveau dress with a curved silhouette.
The new trend these days is activewear with minimal lace or decoration, and I like that design too.
The reason is that with my short hair and cold, dry face, lovely and cute dresses do not suit me at all.
Noah, wearing a dark blue suit with narrow diagonal stripes, asked me why I was wearing gloves when it wasn't cold. What kind of remark would a man with a diamond-encrusted fountain pen in his breast pocket say at a social party?
I decided not to ask or inquire, as the way he looked with his hair pulled back was quite sensual. On the way, I learned that his complaint was that the ring on his ring finger wasn't noticeable.
The Marquis's Mansion was located in one of the many luxurious mansions clustered in the wealthy neighborhood of Loganfield, to the right of Tempshire Palace, towards Riverbridge.
The mansions here, where politicians and high-ranking officials mainly live, are all built with good materials and have a luxurious appearance.
Arriving at the mansion and passing through the iron gate, after a while, I saw a row of people who appeared to be butlers, maids, and servants standing on the portico side.
In the foyer leading into the mansion, the Marchioness, dressed in a yellow empire tunic, stood alongside her son to greet the crowd.
“You’re here! Come on in.”
The Marchioness greeted us with a bright face. Her son, with his hair neatly slicked back and a bow tie, also greeted us.
“Hello, Marchioness. Hello? Uh... Master Cledor?”
“This is Klad Wales.”
“Ah, yes, yes.”
I smiled awkwardly at Klad and entered the hall where the party was being held with Noah.
A band played soft music, and people walked around tables with white tablecloths, drinks, and food, and greeted each other.
The Marquis of Wales found Noah, smiled politely, and shook his hand.
“Rosalia, this person has been a great help to me.”
The Marchioness gave a polite smile as the Marquis raised his glass of champagne towards Noah.
At the entrance, I saw the Duke of Hessen and Daniel entering together. Daniel, wearing a bow tie, sweater vest, shirt, and shorts, approached me as soon as he saw me and shook my hand.
He seemed to have grown taller. He looked up at me with his bright red eyes.
“I missed you, Sister. The Royal Polo Tournament starts next week.”
“I’ve never been there before, but it sounds fun.”
“Let’s go together. There’s a polo player I like...”
Noah interjected and shook his head.
“No. We’re busy preparing for our wedding.”
“My sister said it would be fun.”
“She didn’t say she was going, did she?”
The two bickered every time they met. When Noah, seemingly seeking my approval, smiled, Daniel looked troubled, and the Duke of Hessen stepped forward to dissuade him.
“Daniel, she said she was busy, so let’s go together next time.”
Noah began to flaunt the wristwatch I'd given him, brushing his hair back in a showy manner. The kind-hearted Duke of Hessen responded to his eagerness to show it off.
“It looks like you bought a new watch.”
“Diana bought it for me.”
“Yeah. That sounds good.”
The Duke of Hessen smiled bitterly, playing with the wedding ring on his hand.
“Get remarried quickly. I don’t want to see you whining.”
"Thank you for your concern. You're still annoying. Miss Diana, can I punch him in the mouth?"
Noah raised his chin proudly as the Duke of Hessen smiled generously and raised his hand. I hastily tried to stop him.
“You’ll figure it out. When I die, will you quickly find someone new?”
"No. I'll die with you. Then we can be reborn around the same time and meet again."
The Duke, who was listening to our conversation, burst into laughter.
"My wife asked me that question when we were dating. I said I'd go with her, but I couldn't, since she left our son behind."
The more I look at the Duke, the more pitiful it becomes.
The man who once thought of dying now seems determined to live for his son, and he plans to return to Loganfield to be with Daniel.
While Noah and the Duke were having a difficult conversation, I went to get dessert and saw Erita sitting far away.
Erita was seen surrounded by women, wearing a purple velvet dress and a feather decoration on her head, receiving all kinds of praise and compliments.
It's similar to the clothes I wore last time. The hair, too, I get the strong feeling that she's copying me. Yeah, well...I guess she could copy me similarly.
I was trying to ignore the situation and just eat dessert, but I raised my head and looked around because I heard people talking and looking somewhere.
The Marquis of Wales, standing like a statue, had a hard, frozen face. He stood behind Erita, his shoulders hunched, watching the woman.
A woman with a strange appearance, heavy makeup, and a very timid demeanor. I realized belatedly that she was Ayla.
“What are those clothes...?”
The Marquis muttered, his face flushed with embarrassment, as he looked at his former mistress. She was dressed in revealing attire, completely unsuited to a high-society party, and her head was bowed.
She wore red lipstick and tacky eye makeup that didn't suit her innocent face. It must have been Erita's doing. When bringing in a servant, it's customary to dress them neatly and cleanly for the sake of appearance.
Erita, who had regained her composure, asked the Marquis.
“Why are you doing this, Marquis of Wales?”
"No."
The Marchioness looked at her husband with a sharp gaze.
"It's nothing to do with you anymore, is it? You probably liked that kind of clothing. Are you interested in something different?"
“Madam, that’s not it.”
Erita, who saw Ayla timidly covering her chest under the gathering gaze, laughed happily as if she were looking at a clown and began to badmouth her in a loud voice.
“She was still so vain that she even stole one of my rings. But I forgave her generously.”
It was like a child's smile of joy as she tore the wings of her sleeping bag. It was just a toy, a childish play.
Although covered with makeup, bruises and scars were briefly visible. The Marquis saw them too, but he quickly smiled nonchalantly and turned away, blending in with the upper-class crowd.
He ignores the accusatory words and contemptuous looks that follow him as if they have nothing to do with him.
It wasn't her choice alone. I felt dirty, as if I'd just watched an absurd and unsettling movie. I knew she had to stand there for hours, humiliated.
I moistened my throat with champagne to relieve my discomfort.
“Is this an image transformation?”
“Stop looking. You’ll get hurt.”
"Yes."
Noah, who was quick-witted, bent down, observed my darkened complexion, and asked quietly.
“Don’t you want to see it?”
“Yes. Well, if someone comes forward, they’ll just find fault and start a fight.”
"All right."
Noah, with a look that suggested he trusted only himself, approached Ayla leisurely, holding a glass of wine. "What are you trying to do? Everything you're trying to do is strange!"
Before I could stop him, the wine glass in Noah's hand tilted towards him.
I sighed and rubbed my eyes as I watched the red wine being mercilessly poured onto the poor woman's chest. Everyone else fell silent and looked in that direction.
Cold air mixed with silence drifted through the room.
"Sorry, I made a mistake. While you're here, you might as well take off that clown makeup."
He spoke with a very bright face. Even though it was obvious to anyone that he was being deliberate, Noah whispered something to Ayla, holding an empty wine glass.
Finally, she, who had been standing there blankly, burst into tears. The vast, silent hall was filled with the sound of her sobs.
Daniel approached the sobbing Ayla and wiped her face with a handkerchief. Ayla forced a smile at the child's gentle touch.
"Maid, don't cry. I'll scold that guy."
Daniel, who had briefly stayed at the Marquis of Wales, seemed to recognize her as a maid. An elderly lady wearing a pearl necklace stepped forward and wrapped the shawl she was wearing around Ayla.
“It’s so hard, follow me. Let’s go to the bathroom and wash up, and change into fresh clothes.”
Starting with Daniel and the noblewoman, several people approached her here and there, offering comfort or offering to give her new clothes.
It seemed he had been looking at her with pity from the beginning. Ayla, her face wet with tears, sobbed softly and looked at Noah with blurry eyes.
It was a cry closer to emotion than resentment or anger. Noah came straight toward me and whispered softly in my ear.
“Yes, is that enough?”
“What was your intention in doing that?”
"You said you didn't want to see it. I just created a clear situation and opportunity for someone to step forward. Making people cry is my specialty."
Noah, arms crossed and a glass of wine in one hand, smiled innocently at me. I was still mulling over his unkind explanation and watching the belated kindnesses directed at Ayla.
Some people may have felt compassion, but were unable to easily help the woman who was being laughed at and ridiculed because of their pride and the gaze of others.
If I did anything wrong, I'd be entangled with the government or even criticized. As the fiancée of a man who had made a deliberate mistake, I felt embarrassed and ashamed to remain silent, so I quickly approached Ayla.
"I'm sorry, my fiancé made a mistake, so I'll take responsibility. There's a spare set of clothes in the car. Lady of Wales, may I use the bathroom?"
"Yes. There's a bathroom in the basement for the servants. Since she has a tendency to steal, the upstairs wouldn't be suitable."
I wanted to use the usual excuse of being sick and not being able to go, but...
If that happened, the Marchioness might come storming into the mansion again, leading Daniel with a cannon-like fruit juice in one hand.
I sat quietly in the passenger seat, wearing a simple Art Nouveau dress with a curved silhouette.
The new trend these days is activewear with minimal lace or decoration, and I like that design too.
The reason is that with my short hair and cold, dry face, lovely and cute dresses do not suit me at all.
Noah, wearing a dark blue suit with narrow diagonal stripes, asked me why I was wearing gloves when it wasn't cold. What kind of remark would a man with a diamond-encrusted fountain pen in his breast pocket say at a social party?
I decided not to ask or inquire, as the way he looked with his hair pulled back was quite sensual. On the way, I learned that his complaint was that the ring on his ring finger wasn't noticeable.
The Marquis's Mansion was located in one of the many luxurious mansions clustered in the wealthy neighborhood of Loganfield, to the right of Tempshire Palace, towards Riverbridge.
The mansions here, where politicians and high-ranking officials mainly live, are all built with good materials and have a luxurious appearance.
Arriving at the mansion and passing through the iron gate, after a while, I saw a row of people who appeared to be butlers, maids, and servants standing on the portico side.
In the foyer leading into the mansion, the Marchioness, dressed in a yellow empire tunic, stood alongside her son to greet the crowd.
“You’re here! Come on in.”
The Marchioness greeted us with a bright face. Her son, with his hair neatly slicked back and a bow tie, also greeted us.
“Hello, Marchioness. Hello? Uh... Master Cledor?”
“This is Klad Wales.”
“Ah, yes, yes.”
I smiled awkwardly at Klad and entered the hall where the party was being held with Noah.
A band played soft music, and people walked around tables with white tablecloths, drinks, and food, and greeted each other.
The Marquis of Wales found Noah, smiled politely, and shook his hand.
“Rosalia, this person has been a great help to me.”
The Marchioness gave a polite smile as the Marquis raised his glass of champagne towards Noah.
At the entrance, I saw the Duke of Hessen and Daniel entering together. Daniel, wearing a bow tie, sweater vest, shirt, and shorts, approached me as soon as he saw me and shook my hand.
He seemed to have grown taller. He looked up at me with his bright red eyes.
“I missed you, Sister. The Royal Polo Tournament starts next week.”
“I’ve never been there before, but it sounds fun.”
“Let’s go together. There’s a polo player I like...”
Noah interjected and shook his head.
“No. We’re busy preparing for our wedding.”
“My sister said it would be fun.”
“She didn’t say she was going, did she?”
The two bickered every time they met. When Noah, seemingly seeking my approval, smiled, Daniel looked troubled, and the Duke of Hessen stepped forward to dissuade him.
“Daniel, she said she was busy, so let’s go together next time.”
Noah began to flaunt the wristwatch I'd given him, brushing his hair back in a showy manner. The kind-hearted Duke of Hessen responded to his eagerness to show it off.
“It looks like you bought a new watch.”
“Diana bought it for me.”
“Yeah. That sounds good.”
The Duke of Hessen smiled bitterly, playing with the wedding ring on his hand.
“Get remarried quickly. I don’t want to see you whining.”
"Thank you for your concern. You're still annoying. Miss Diana, can I punch him in the mouth?"
Noah raised his chin proudly as the Duke of Hessen smiled generously and raised his hand. I hastily tried to stop him.
“You’ll figure it out. When I die, will you quickly find someone new?”
"No. I'll die with you. Then we can be reborn around the same time and meet again."
The Duke, who was listening to our conversation, burst into laughter.
"My wife asked me that question when we were dating. I said I'd go with her, but I couldn't, since she left our son behind."
The more I look at the Duke, the more pitiful it becomes.
The man who once thought of dying now seems determined to live for his son, and he plans to return to Loganfield to be with Daniel.
While Noah and the Duke were having a difficult conversation, I went to get dessert and saw Erita sitting far away.
Erita was seen surrounded by women, wearing a purple velvet dress and a feather decoration on her head, receiving all kinds of praise and compliments.
It's similar to the clothes I wore last time. The hair, too, I get the strong feeling that she's copying me. Yeah, well...I guess she could copy me similarly.
I was trying to ignore the situation and just eat dessert, but I raised my head and looked around because I heard people talking and looking somewhere.
The Marquis of Wales, standing like a statue, had a hard, frozen face. He stood behind Erita, his shoulders hunched, watching the woman.
A woman with a strange appearance, heavy makeup, and a very timid demeanor. I realized belatedly that she was Ayla.
“What are those clothes...?”
The Marquis muttered, his face flushed with embarrassment, as he looked at his former mistress. She was dressed in revealing attire, completely unsuited to a high-society party, and her head was bowed.
She wore red lipstick and tacky eye makeup that didn't suit her innocent face. It must have been Erita's doing. When bringing in a servant, it's customary to dress them neatly and cleanly for the sake of appearance.
Erita, who had regained her composure, asked the Marquis.
“Why are you doing this, Marquis of Wales?”
"No."
The Marchioness looked at her husband with a sharp gaze.
"It's nothing to do with you anymore, is it? You probably liked that kind of clothing. Are you interested in something different?"
“Madam, that’s not it.”
Erita, who saw Ayla timidly covering her chest under the gathering gaze, laughed happily as if she were looking at a clown and began to badmouth her in a loud voice.
“She was still so vain that she even stole one of my rings. But I forgave her generously.”
It was like a child's smile of joy as she tore the wings of her sleeping bag. It was just a toy, a childish play.
Although covered with makeup, bruises and scars were briefly visible. The Marquis saw them too, but he quickly smiled nonchalantly and turned away, blending in with the upper-class crowd.
He ignores the accusatory words and contemptuous looks that follow him as if they have nothing to do with him.
It wasn't her choice alone. I felt dirty, as if I'd just watched an absurd and unsettling movie. I knew she had to stand there for hours, humiliated.
I moistened my throat with champagne to relieve my discomfort.
“Is this an image transformation?”
Noah glanced at Aila, tilted his head, and stroked his chin. That's not it—it's a trick!
"Yes."
Noah, who was quick-witted, bent down, observed my darkened complexion, and asked quietly.
“Don’t you want to see it?”
“Yes. Well, if someone comes forward, they’ll just find fault and start a fight.”
"All right."
Noah, with a look that suggested he trusted only himself, approached Ayla leisurely, holding a glass of wine. "What are you trying to do? Everything you're trying to do is strange!"
Before I could stop him, the wine glass in Noah's hand tilted towards him.
I sighed and rubbed my eyes as I watched the red wine being mercilessly poured onto the poor woman's chest. Everyone else fell silent and looked in that direction.
Cold air mixed with silence drifted through the room.
"Sorry, I made a mistake. While you're here, you might as well take off that clown makeup."
He spoke with a very bright face. Even though it was obvious to anyone that he was being deliberate, Noah whispered something to Ayla, holding an empty wine glass.
Finally, she, who had been standing there blankly, burst into tears. The vast, silent hall was filled with the sound of her sobs.
Daniel approached the sobbing Ayla and wiped her face with a handkerchief. Ayla forced a smile at the child's gentle touch.
"Maid, don't cry. I'll scold that guy."
Daniel, who had briefly stayed at the Marquis of Wales, seemed to recognize her as a maid. An elderly lady wearing a pearl necklace stepped forward and wrapped the shawl she was wearing around Ayla.
“It’s so hard, follow me. Let’s go to the bathroom and wash up, and change into fresh clothes.”
Starting with Daniel and the noblewoman, several people approached her here and there, offering comfort or offering to give her new clothes.
It seemed he had been looking at her with pity from the beginning. Ayla, her face wet with tears, sobbed softly and looked at Noah with blurry eyes.
It was a cry closer to emotion than resentment or anger. Noah came straight toward me and whispered softly in my ear.
“Yes, is that enough?”
“What was your intention in doing that?”
"You said you didn't want to see it. I just created a clear situation and opportunity for someone to step forward. Making people cry is my specialty."
Noah, arms crossed and a glass of wine in one hand, smiled innocently at me. I was still mulling over his unkind explanation and watching the belated kindnesses directed at Ayla.
Some people may have felt compassion, but were unable to easily help the woman who was being laughed at and ridiculed because of their pride and the gaze of others.
If I did anything wrong, I'd be entangled with the government or even criticized. As the fiancée of a man who had made a deliberate mistake, I felt embarrassed and ashamed to remain silent, so I quickly approached Ayla.
"I'm sorry, my fiancé made a mistake, so I'll take responsibility. There's a spare set of clothes in the car. Lady of Wales, may I use the bathroom?"
"Yes. There's a bathroom in the basement for the servants. Since she has a tendency to steal, the upstairs wouldn't be suitable."
The Marchioness answered, looking at me with a cold gaze. As I was leading Ayla away, wrapping my arms around her shoulders, the lady wearing the pearl necklace who had first stepped forward followed.
Entering the bathroom, she rolled up her sleeves, turned on the bathtub faucet, and began to fill it with water. Seeing her status as a noblewoman, she seemed to be a woman of virtue, even personally helping the maid by filling the bath water.
"I'll help, too. I've been feeling so pitiful lately that I couldn't bear it. She's still so young, and you're making a fool of her so openly. You're really the Princess."
"Thank you."
“I am Maria Ruben, wife of Count Sebastian Ruben, the Supreme Court Justice.”
“Yes, Countess. My name is Diana Parsene.”
Countess Ruben smiled kindly. The wrinkles around her eyes were kind and appealing. She took my hand in hers, her wrinkled yet delicate and soft, and quietly persuaded me.
"Oh, Miss Parsene. Think carefully about getting married. That man will be so mean to his wife."
Ayla, who had been undressing silently at the Countess's words, opened her tightly shut mouth and spoke softly.
“No, Countess. He is not at fault.”
“Didn’t he shame you by pouring wine on you? He even made you cry.”
“He poured me some wine and said,"
Ayla paused for a moment, her eyes becoming blurry, and tears began to fall again.
Comments
Post a Comment