Chapter 30
Following Countess Proud, other noble ladies nearby began chiming in.
“I’m curious too. I wonder which artwork the Duchess liked best.”
“Me too. She’s the lady of the famed Camédici Dukedom, so I’m sure she has a more refined opinion than ours.”
“Of course she does! Hohohoho!”
As the women giggled, Asilie’s face grew stiff.
She had already experienced something similar at the Bourbon family’s tea party.
She had decided to attend this exhibition precisely to avoid such a situation, but even among these progressive nobles, Asilie seemed to be someone to exclude.
In the end, deciding to come here had been a mistake.
“It seems the Duchess of Camédici finds my question too difficult to answer,” Countess Proud said loudly, enough for everyone to hear.
It was easy to predict that the longer she stayed silent, the more insults she would receive, but even so, Asilie couldn’t say a word.
She felt pathetic, filled with shame over her own foolishness for not anticipating this, and her arrogance for thinking she could mingle with these people.
“I suppose we should be understanding,” said one lady with a smirk, seeing Asilie as an easy target.
“Ignorance isn’t a crime, and lacking refinement isn’t really something you can blame someone for.”
Countess Proud joined in smoothly.
“Of course. I never blame anyone. I blame myself instead.”
“Oh no, you’ve done nothing wrong to blame yourself for. Why would you say that?”
“Well, I failed to filter out someone lacking basic manners. It’s my fault, because now others here might be seen on the same level.”
“That’s too much. It’s unfortunate, yes, but how could you check someone’s intelligence before really knowing them? It was unavoidable. Don’t let it trouble you, Countess.”
The two ladies exchanged sarcastic remarks with practiced ease, and the surrounding noblewomen burst into laughter.
Everyone was enjoying this—everyone except Asilie.
She had faced countless hostile situations before, but today was different. Her emotions were tangled and hard to control.
Had she become overly optimistic since marrying Esperad?
She had neglected to see reality clearly.
Asilie felt betrayed by herself and disillusioned by their behavior.
Could she really fix everything that had always been wrong, all by herself?
She felt like a single grain of sand in a vast sea.
“It really is hard to hide where one comes from. Hohoho.”
“No matter how fine the clothes or food, can you ignore the environment you grew up in?”
“That’s why I feel sorry for her. To escape the rumors, she had to accept someone without any refinement.”
That last comment snapped her back to attention.
“What did you just say?”
She turned toward the voice, but the noblewomen, who had been so loud just a moment ago, all went silent.
They knew. They knew that if she questioned what was just said, it would not end well for them.
Even if they pretended otherwise, they couldn’t ignore one thing—Asilie had stood up to both Monica, the star of the royal court, and the heir of the Bonaparte family during a royal banquet.
Asilie Camédici was someone they could poke at, but not confront directly.
When they kept silent, Asilie finally spoke.
“…It seems everyone gathered here has quite the discerning eye.”
Anger rose within her as they spoke so casually about her husband Esperad.
Asilie realized something. She couldn’t just let their mockery slide.
This wasn’t just about her being insulted.
Staying silent would mean allowing the Camédici family name to be ridiculed—and more than that, allowing them to make a fool of Esperad.
With that awareness, Asilie slowly met the gaze of each noblewoman, speaking in a low, deliberate tone.
“Since you are all so cultured, perhaps you could help me. I suddenly can’t remember something I once knew.”
“…What do you mean?” one asked.
“You all saw the painting hanging in the center of the gallery, right? If I remember correctly, the title was —, wasn’t it?”
No one answered, and Countess Proud gave a reluctant nod.
“That’s true, but why are you bringing that up…”
“You were curious which artwork I liked most, weren’t you? I found that painting especially remarkable. I was also impressed by the coloring technique used. But now I can’t seem to remember what that technique is called.”
The noblewomen stared at her, tense.
They were afraid she might point to one of them for the answer.
Asilie found their reaction quite amusing.
Just a moment ago, they had been mocking her with such pride, and now they avoided her eyes in fear of being called on.
“I’m sure such refined ladies like yourselves must know the name of the coloring technique I’ve forgotten. Don’t you?”
Asilie asked the question to everyone.
She didn’t want to hear excuses later like “I knew it but didn’t want to speak.”
The once lively space went completely silent.
Not one of the women who had just spoken about her lack of knowledge could now answer her question.
They couldn’t even open their mouths.
It was just as Asilie had expected. So she continued, calm and composed.
“What an amusing coincidence. For all of us to forget the same thing at the same time.”
The Santerre coloring method had only recently been introduced to Astel. Unless someone was deeply interested in art, they wouldn’t know it.
Asilie knew it because she had died seven years after it became popular.
But here, unless the artist themselves had painted the piece, it was unlikely anyone would know.
Even though she had clearly mocked them, the exhibition room remained quiet.
The women who had just called her ignorant and unrefined were now completely silent.
It was enough. Asilie turned her gaze to Countess Proud.
But her reaction was strange.
She turned pale and looked away as soon as she met Asilie’s eyes.
What is this?
Asilie felt something was off.
She was about to consider it further when suddenly Baroness Morningwit snapped at her.
“Just because we’re appreciating art doesn’t mean we have to know every technique. The beauty of a painting is something you feel, not something you calculate with theory.”
Asilie almost laughed.
She barely managed to hold it in, but some of her amusement must’ve shown on her face.
Baroness Morningwit seemed offended by her expression. She glared at Asilie, then turned sharply toward Countess Proud.
“Why don’t you clarify it yourself, Countess Proud? Of course, it would be best if the one who used the technique could name it directly.”
Even as she pressed her attack, Asilie chuckled softly.
But she didn’t say more. There was no need.
She had crushed their pride. Now it was Countess Proud’s turn to handle things.
Countess Proud had surely realized she needed to be more careful now.
Asilie followed Baroness Morningwit’s lead and looked at Countess Proud. But the woman didn’t speak right away.
Asilie got the impression that it wasn’t hesitation but complete ignorance.
Maybe it wasn’t that she wouldn’t speak—but that she couldn’t.
“Countess?”
Even the other noblewomen looked at her strangely.
Could it be…
Asilie suddenly wondered if the painting hadn’t been done by Countess Proud at all.
If that were the case, her confusion and visible panic made sense.
“I… the coloring technique I used in that piece…”
Countess Proud began in a small, trembling voice.
But she couldn’t finish her sentence.
And that was when Asilie became certain.
Countess Proud had submitted a painting she didn’t make.
Displaying a forgery at an exhibition was an insult to the guests—and if exposed, one would be completely exiled from society.
Of course, submitting forgeries wasn’t rare—it was practically an open secret.
Because even if you suspected a forgery, proving it meant confronting not just the host, but every noble involved, making you a social enemy. No one wanted that.
So people stayed quiet.
But suspecting a piece was forged and proving it in front of everyone were two very different things.
If Countess Proud had truly submitted a fake, her entire family—and even their relatives—would be disgraced.
Countess Proud closed her eyes tightly, already bracing for what was to come.
Then—
“Ah, you used the Santerre technique. I remember now.”
Asilie finished the sentence for her. Because she hadn’t forgotten what she needed to do.
It was wiser to make her an ally—even by force—than to create an irreconcilable enemy.
That was why Asilie had answered on her behalf.
Now, Countess Proud would never be able to ignore her again.
“The Santerre technique hasn’t been in Astel long, so most people wouldn’t know about it.”
At those words, Countess Proud’s face froze.
She seemed to realize that Asilie had uncovered her secret.
Asilie looked directly into her eyes, full of mixed emotions, and smiled.
“And yet, you used it. Very skillfully, I might add.”
“…Yes, I did.”
Countess Proud barely nodded in agreement.
Her face was flushed with embarrassment and fear.
“That’s why the painting left such an impression on me. I believe that answers what everyone here wanted to know.”
Silence fell over the exhibition hall.
Aside from the footsteps of guests who hadn’t noticed the tension, the room was still.
After some time, Countess Proud finally regained her composure and forced a smile.
“That was a truly wonderful review. I don’t think a higher compliment could be given.”
“I’m glad you’re satisfied, Countess.”
“More than satisfied. I’m sure everyone here learned a lot thanks to you…”
When she returned home, it was already completely dark outside.
“Shall I prepare a hot bath? I brought some nice scented oil along with the new tea leaves this time. If you’re okay with it, I’ll add it to the water.”
“Please do.”
“I’ll get it ready right away, ma’am.”
Thanks to Mrs. Marce, who always handled things thoroughly, Asilie didn’t have to wait long before she could soak herself in the bath.
The warm bathwater helped relax the muscles that had tensed up all day, but it couldn’t ease her troubled heart.
She didn’t feel good.
She hadn’t actually wasted anything, but still, she felt like she had wasted an entire day for nothing.
She had turned down Esperad’s suggestion and separated from him just to join a social gathering and try to find a group she could fit in with.
She was angry that the decision had been her own.
She had clearly shown at the exhibition that she wasn’t someone to be underestimated, but that was it.
Even if people acted more careful outwardly, their deep-rooted scorn wouldn’t change.
“What kind of things will they start saying about me now?”
She felt disgusted.
So far, she had been judged as a lucky but foolish and ignorant country girl.
Now, wouldn’t they say she was a sharp-tongued, nasty country girl instead?
Asilie had no reason to be treated that way.
She had realized it when she experienced death.
No one deserves disgrace or death as something natural.
“Haah…”
Still, no one would agree with Asilie’s thoughts—especially not among the nobles.
Unable to shake off her heavy heart, she got out of the bathtub and dried herself with a bitter feeling.
She returned to her bedroom and sat blankly without even taking off her bathrobe. Then Mrs. Marce carefully asked,
“Would you like some tea? I heard the new tea leaves that came in this afternoon are really good…”
At first, Mrs. Marce had been cautious because Asilie suspected her colleagues. But now, her loyalty was sincere.
Seeing Asilie act as a capable mistress had made her follow Asilie from the heart.
Now, seeing Asilie looking so defeated without Esperad, Mrs. Marce truly felt concerned.
“That would be nice.”
Because she understood that feeling, Asilie agreed to have the tea brought in.
As Mrs. Marce quickly left to prepare it, Asilie tried to make up for the wasted time by reading through a few documents she had brought from her office.
It was useless. Nothing entered her head.
She felt upset.
If Esperad had been here, it might have felt different.
If he had seen her like this, he would have gently rubbed her back with his big hand and quietly comforted her.
Or maybe he would’ve gotten angry at the rude noblewomen at the exhibition, just like he did when she had a fight with Joseph at the palace banquet.
As Asilie imagined the various ways Esperad might have acted, she realized something
In none of those scenarios did he fail to take her side.
She felt strange.
When had she started thinking of Esperad as a complete “team”?
She couldn’t point to a specific time. He had slowly melted into her life, and that made it feel even stranger.
Knock knock—
The door opened, and Mrs. Marce came in carefully.
“I picked a tea from the new leaves that’s especially good for sleep.”
“Thank you. You can go now. I’ll be turning off the lights and going to bed soon.”
“Yes, ma’am. Should I wake you up early tomorrow morning as well?”
“It’s fine. I’d like to sleep in a bit today.”
“Understood.”
After Mrs. Marce left the room, Asilie also put away the unreadable documents, changed into her nightclothes, and lay down on the bed.
Her head throbbed.
She felt like she wouldn’t be able to calm her restless heart or escape all the thoughts that haunted her unless she slept.
After drinking all the tea Mrs. Marce had prepared, Asilie blew out the candle and closed her eyes.
‘This scent feels familiar.’
It wasn’t that the tea itself was familiar, but the taste and smell reminded her of something she had experienced before.
Like a grassy smell with a hint of metal…
She tried to remember when it had been, but at some point, her fading consciousness completely slipped away.
Maybe it was the tea’s effect.
Right before she fully lost consciousness, Asilie gave herself a small bit of comfort.
That tomorrow would be a new day.
So, it would be okay.
