Chapter 42
“……”
Michalis sensed something was off even before they reached the center of the ballroom.
His composed expression cooled into a stern, frigid mask.
He wasn’t oblivious—he could clearly see the hostility in the gazes being thrown at Eliana.
“Knights.”
Michalis suddenly stopped walking and turned around.
Ten loyal knights stood behind him, eyes ablaze with readiness.
“Yes, Your Grace!”
Their booming voices echoed as all ten dropped to one knee in unison.
The ballroom, which had been abuzz with whispers and murmurs, immediately fell into an icy silence.
“……”
The Emperor had yet to arrive, which technically made this display acceptable, but it was clear what Michalis meant by showcasing military strength so brazenly—he intended to seize control of the room.
“If anyone dares to sully the honor of House Ascher with slander or lies, bring them before me.”
Michalis’s voice rang clear and sharp through the stunned silence.
Even the orchestra, which had been playing gently in the background, fell abruptly silent—snap.
“Yes, Your Grace!”
Even in the face of such an intimidating command, the knights answered without hesitation.
Gasp!
“……”
The faces of those who had already whispered a few cruel words went pale.
“If anyone wishes to duel me… by all means, keep talking.”
Translation: shut your mouth unless you want to die.
“Rise. Disperse.”
“Honor and loyalty!”
In perfect unison, the knights stood, gave their formal salute, and silently fanned out across the ballroom.
“……”
Just like that, the atmosphere of the celebration froze over.
At his debut into Wespa’s high society, the newly appointed Duke of Ascher had entered and, with a few simple words, seized control of the entire ballroom.
“A tiger truly begets a tiger.”
“Indeed.”
The older nobles whispered to one another, recalling the former Duke’s commanding presence.
The torch had passed from a seasoned old tiger to an even fiercer young one.
‘What do I even do with this atmosphere…?’
Eliana gave an awkward smile, lips stiff with uncertainty.
‘The newspaper photos didn’t even capture a tenth of his looks. So that was one of the worst ones they had…’
(It was indeed the worst photo deliberately chosen by the press.)
‘Ahh! Just one look from him could melt me!’
‘Why is he so handsome?!’
‘My heart’s broken. The Duke is just too charismatic.’
‘Please, Duke—take me instead!’
‘Kyaa! I wouldn’t even mind being whipped if I could be in his arms just once!’
Following the public execution of the tabloid reporter and Goldman, a secret fandom had begun forming around the Duke of Ascher—largely among younger noblewomen.
Today’s dramatic display only added fuel to the fire, though none would dare admit it aloud.
“His Imperial Majesty, the Sun of the Empire, accompanied by Her Majesty the Empress and His Highness the Crown Prince, now enters!”
The herald’s booming voice snapped everyone back to reality.
The orchestra scrambled to resume playing, and nobles on either side quickly parted to clear a path for the royal family.
“We greet the Sun of the Empire!”
In perfect sync, the assembled nobles bowed deeply.
“We greet the Sun of the Empire.”
Standing beside Michalis, Eliana lifted the hem of her gown slightly and lowered herself in a graceful curtsy.
“Ahh, what a joy it is to see so many gathered here on this splendid day!”
The Emperor strode past Eliana, stopping at the steps leading to the dais.
Truthfully, this ennoblement ceremony wasn’t just for the Duke—it was for the Emperor himself.
Although the position of Admiral of the Southern Fleet was typically inherited by the head of House Ascher, the Emperor had chosen to officiate the appointment with grandeur.
It was a symbolic reminder:
Even the mighty House of Ascher serves the Emperor.
In other words, today was less about celebrating Michalis and more about reinforcing imperial authority.
“And so, let us skip the long speeches and begin. Duke of Ascher, step forward.”
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
Michalis moved with precise, measured steps and knelt on one knee before the Emperor.
“I, Siegfried de Wespera, the twelfth Emperor of the Wespera Empire, hereby grant to Duke Michalis Ascher the title of Admiral of the Southern Fleet!”
Silence swept through the room as the Emperor’s voice echoed.
“I, Michalis Ascher, swear unwavering loyalty to the Empire.”
“Then, receive from me the ceremonial sword and epaulet.”
The Emperor stepped forward, sword in hand, and held it out to Michalis.
“The loyal Shield of the South shall protect the Empire.”
Michalis raised both hands to respectfully accept the golden ceremonial sword.
As he grasped the hilt, a chamberlain stepped forward and attached a gold-embroidered epaulet to his shoulder—symbol of the Southern Fleet’s Admiral.
“Admiral Michalis Ascher, rise.”
“Yes, Your Majesty!”
“With this, the ennoblement is complete. Let all gathered here now share in this joy.”
As Michalis stood, the Emperor’s voice rang once more.
“We accept the will of the Sun.”
The nobles, arrayed in neat lines on either side, responded in unison.
And with that, the official ball began in earnest.
“Congratulations on your appointment, Duke. I look forward to placing my full trust in you.”
The Emperor, who had signaled the beginning of the ball, offered Michalis his congratulations with a warm smile.
“I shall answer the Sun’s faith with loyalty.”
“Haha, well, I must move along to greet the others. Please excuse me now.”
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
As the Emperor ascended the steps and settled onto the imperial throne, the scene unfolded just as expected—guests swarmed toward Michalis with congratulations.
“Duke Ascher, congratulations on your appointment!”
“My deepest congratulations!”
“A heartfelt salute on becoming the Admiral!”
So many came at once that Eliana’s smaller frame was nearly swallowed by the crowd.
“Your Grace, you were truly magnificent earlier!”
“Ahem, some people need to be properly shown their place when they speak carelessly.”
“Indeed! You did splendidly.”
Surrounded by sycophants praising him while seeking favor with House Ascher, Michalis found himself swept into a whirlwind of meaningless chatter.
“Ah—”
Overwhelmed, Eliana quickly stepped away from the throng. If she remained still any longer, she risked being pushed by those crowding in toward Michalis. Falling here would be a public embarrassment that the nobles would gossip about for years.
“Oh my, you must be the Duchess of Ascher? It’s a pleasure to meet you. I am the Marchioness of Ibisergun.”
“A pleasure to meet you, Marchioness. I’m Eliana Ascher.”
“Lady Ascher, what a pleasure. I’m Lady Gituzern, daughter of Count Gituzern. Your dress is simply stunning.”
“Thank you, Lady Gituzern.”
“How lovely to meet you, Duchess. I’m the Countess of Hogisin. I’ve been wanting to make your acquaintance.”
“And I yours, Countess Hogisin.”
“So happy to finally meet you, Duchess. I’m Lady Geunsapine from the East.”
“Likewise, Lady Geunsapine.”
While Eliana tried to catch her breath in a quiet corner, a pack of well-dressed hyenas—wrapped in jealousy, hostility, and curiosity—began to circle.
“Oh my, you really do have such delicate skin. Must be because you’re from the North.”
“Ah, thank you. And Lady Gituzern, your dress is quite beautiful as well.”
“I heard you had some health issues recently. Are you doing well now?”
Despite their sympathetic tones, their sharp eyes scanned Eliana’s figure intently—searching her body as if hunting for wounds.
“Yes, I heard there was an incident on your way down south. How terrifying it must’ve been…”
The Countess of Hogisin casually brought up the suicide rumors, her voice dripping with mock concern.
“I’m fine now.”
Eliana replied with a faint smile, eyes flickering with cool detachment.
“It’s all in the past.”
“Hmm, I suppose His Grace the Duke must be more generous than he appears,” the Marchioness of Ibisergun remarked, narrowing her eyes and letting her gaze settle on Eliana’s exposed shoulders—looking for any hint of bruises or scars beneath her gown.
‘These women…’
Eliana could feel the predatory gazes trying to pierce her clothing. Her patience began to fray.
“Seeing His Grace earlier… he seemed rather frightening. Is married life… alright for you?”
The pack of hyenas couldn’t stand it—this weak-looking Northern baron’s daughter had somehow secured the arm of a young, handsome, powerful duke. It made their blood boil.
They desperately hoped to find strangulation marks or whip scars on the fragile-looking duchess. That way, their vicious jealousy could be repackaged as pity and spread through high society with delightful cruelty.
“Yes, he did look terribly intimidating earlier. Duchess, I truly worry for you…”
Especially in bed, don’t you think?
Their expressions dripped with feigned concern, masking the malicious glee beneath.
Now was the time. Eliana was newly married, still uncertain of her position, and appeared weak—this season was their only chance to tear her down.
“Oh, there’s no need to worry, Marchioness of Ibisergun.”
Eliana let out a soft sigh and spoke with a clear, resonant voice.
The moment she opened her mouth, the gathering of predatory noblewomen fell quiet, their eyes riveted.
“My husband…”
‘My husband’…?
Their eyes widened at the affectionate term. It wasn’t “His Grace” or “the Duke,” but a personal, familiar word.
“…is incredibly sweet and caring.”
With a calm and confident smile, Eliana said it as though she were stating the most natural truth in the world.
Mountains are mountains, rivers are rivers.
Michalis’s tenderness was a fact as simple and absolute as that.
“Pfft! Oh—pardon me. I must’ve gotten a speck of dust in my throat. Ahem.”
Lady Gituzern stifled a laugh, failing to fully conceal the mocking snort that escaped her lips.
To her, Eliana’s words sounded like a desperate delusion—a pitiful woman struggling to convince herself she was happy.
“My, how fortunate. That’s certainly a relief,” said the Countess of Hogisin, fanning herself slowly to veil her smug smile.
“Indeed. We wish you nothing but bliss in your marriage, Duchess,” another added, her tone thick with mockery.
Eliana had spoken sincerely—but not one of them believed her.
Not with the infamous image the Duke of Ascher had in the capital.
To them, he was still the cruel, tyrannical beast of the South.
