Chapter 44
…Killing intent?
The weight of stares was nothing new to Joel. Surrounded by ladies as always, he nonetheless did not miss the sharp flicker of killing intent that had brushed past him like a pinprick.
“……”
His eyes met Freya’s.
“Good day. I’m Freya of the House of Espensen. It’s a pleasure to meet you,” Freya greeted with a bright, flower-like smile.
“I’m Joel Terius, personal escort to Her Grace, the Duchess of Ascher.”
Terius? Of course. Tch.
As she exchanged pleasantries with Joel, Freya dug her nails into the hem of her slightly lifted gown. Even if they assigned her a knight, of all people they had to give her him. Her plan to isolate the Duchess from society had been ruined before it even began.
And this man—this knight—wasn’t someone easily ignored. He had already swept away the carefully planted rumors of the Duchess’s supposed suicide attempt like they were nothing.
She’s no ordinary woman.
Joel, a man with a deep understanding of social currents, sensed it immediately. The energy surrounding Freya wasn’t that of a naïve young lady—it had the seasoned sharpness of an older, battle-hardened matron.
The Duke really made a foolish move.
In the brief moment they locked eyes, Freya came up with a deceptively simple idea. This unnecessarily handsome escort knight could be the perfect material to bury the Duchess socially.
All it would take was one whispered rumor.
Late at night, the Duchess and her escort knight were seen leaving the stables alone… disheveled.
Such rumors never needed confirmation. The hyenas of society, driven by envy and jealousy, would tear the Duchess apart on instinct.
And when the planned poisoning occurred a few days later, it would be dismissed as another suicide attempt. After all, she already had a precedent.
“Good day, Duchess of Ascher. Congratulations on His Grace’s recent elevation in rank.”
A clear, graceful voice drew Freya’s attention.
She had nearly forgotten. The original first target—momentarily pushed aside due to other variables. The daughter of Marquess Rancelloti, head of the Emperor’s faction. The woman who had become Crown Princess in three of Eliana’s past four lives.
“Ah, thank you.”
“I’m Riela of House Rancelloti. It’s truly an honor to meet you.”
“I’m pleased to meet you as well, Lady Rancelloti.”
Caught off guard by the unexpected figure, Eliana responded with a hint of confusion. Riela had appeared in the early chapters of the original story. The first of Freya’s many victims.
“Why are you just sitting there today, Crown Prince?”
The Empress’s voice was sharp as she scanned the ballroom. She didn’t bother hiding her disapproval.
“Are you feeling unwell lately?”
The Emperor, seated on his throne sipping champagne, glanced at his son, who had grown visibly thinner.
“No, I am well. I simply don’t feel inclined tonight.”
The Crown Prince’s voice was quiet, distant, his gaze unfocused. He knew he shouldn’t be this way… that he should erase this maddening affection, forget it. But no matter how he tried, it was useless. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw that silver-haired fairy smiling beneath the wisteria. For days now, he hadn’t been able to sleep.
Shainels, Crown Prince of the Wesperan Empire, was suffering the fever of a hopeless, first love. His fairy sparkled beautifully in the distance, yet he dared not approach her. He could only hope this torturous banquet would end quickly.
“Even so, you must dance. Begin with Lady Espensen.”
“What? He must dance the first with Lady Rancelloti, surely?”
Not tonight, please…
It began again—his parents’ endless tug-of-war. Shainels was growing sick of it.
“I cannot abide that Rancelloti man!”
“Ha! As if I’m thrilled about Count Espensen either. Spare me the tricks, Your Majesty.”
“Tricks? Are you implying I’m scheming, Empress? Have you lost all decorum?”
“That’s rich, coming from you! If anyone’s scheming, it’s you and your underhanded imperial plotting!”
“You forget yourself! I’ve warned you before.”
Sigh. “Then I’ll do as I please.”
Left unchecked, this would only further fuel the gossip of discord between the Emperor and Empress. Not wanting to ignite another scandal, Shainels had no choice but to rise from his seat.
“……”
With all three of them in the room, he had only one clear path.
Thump.
Thump.
Thump.
With each step toward his destination, his heartbeat grew faster.
Just once. Let me dance with her, just once. The first dance with her… the second with Lady Rancelloti… the third with Lady Espensen.
He could pretend the first was merely a congratulatory gesture to today’s main figure. And if he followed it with two more dances, few would question it.
Rustle.
It was a subtle ripple. But for a room so attuned to its every movement, the Crown Prince’s rising was enough to stir the air.
The atmosphere’s shifting.
Joel, ever alert to social currents, noticed it instantly. The flow had changed. The center of attention was moving.
“……”
Joel quickly identified the one drawing all eyes. His body tensed. The Crown Prince was approaching.
His gaze…
Joel steadied his breath, eyes trained calmly on the prince’s line of sight.
No. No, no, no. It’s her. My lady…
Trouble. Serious trouble. His lord had entrusted him with protecting the Duchess. He was to handle everything with discretion. But if the Crown Prince danced with her, that trust could shatter today.
This is bad.
To make matters worse, the prince’s steps were picking up speed. Joel had to act—and fast. He needed a way to prevent this without offending the Imperial family or breaking his lord’s trust.
“You there! Bring me champagne—quickly!”
As the Crown Prince steadily approached, Eliana began to feel lightheaded. Just then, Joel halted a servant passing with a silver tray.
“My lady, on such a celebratory day, champagne is a must.”
He picked up two glasses from the tray and offered one to Eliana.
“Sir Joel… I’m not very good with alcohol, and in this kind of setting, it’s a little…”
Eliana hesitated at the unexpected offer. In her previous life as Eunchae, she could’ve downed a whole bottle of champagne without blinking. But in this body, her tolerance seemed to cap out at about 200ml of beer.
Forgive me, my lady!
Sensing her hesitation, Joel mentally braced himself, closed his eyes, and lied—smoothly.
“Of course. It’s non-alcoholic champagne.”
In other words, it was practically soda, with only a trace amount of alcohol.
“Oh, really? Then that should be fine.”
After dealing with the crowd and talking so much, she had become quite thirsty.
“To His Grace’s new title—cheers!”
“Cheers!”
Caught off guard, Eliana clinked glasses with Joel and took a sip.
Gulp.
The sweet, slightly bitter taste of the champagne slid down her throat.
“Oh… this is delicious.”
That familiar tingly sensation as it tickled down her esophagus—
Wow… is non-alcoholic always this tasty?!
She was genuinely surprised. For such minimal alcohol content, the flavor was impressive. Perhaps alcohol production in this world was more advanced than she had thought.
I’m truly sorry, my lady. I will accept whatever punishment comes my way.
Joel swallowed hard. If his lady ordered him to grovel on the floor, he’d do so without a word of protest. He had told the lie far too smoothly.
“If you enjoy it, please have another. It’s non-alcoholic, after all.”
“Well, if that’s the case… I suppose one or two glasses should be fine.”
“Oh my, do include me as well!”
“Kyaah! Me too, please!”
“M-May I join as well?”
The moment they saw an opening, the ladies swarmed in—each desperate for a chance to exchange even a few words with Joel.
“But of course, everyone’s welcome.”
“Kyaa!”
And in that instant, Joel’s once-closed dimples reappeared—and chaos ensued.
“M-Me too! I’ll have a glass!”
“You there, servant! Bring more champagne!”
“Kyaa! Kyaa!”
Drawn in by the power of his dimples, the crowd surged forward like fish chasing bait. Before long, they had completely blocked the Crown Prince’s path across the hall.
“Well then—cheers, everyone!”
“Cheers!”
Gulp, gulp.
Eliana, ever the enthusiastic Korean college student at heart, couldn’t help but join in. Smiling brightly, she raised her glass and polished off her second champagne.
“I was swept up by the festive mood.”
A calm but clear voice—gentle, yet firm—cut through the air. The shift in atmosphere was immediate.
It was the Crown Prince. He had finally broken through the crowd and was now standing just a few steps away.
“We greet the Little Sun of the Empire.”
Startled by his sudden presence, the ladies—too fixated on Joel—quickly stepped aside and curtsied in unison.
“We greet the Little Sun of the Empire.”
“We greet the Little Sun of the Empire.”
Joel and Eliana also swiftly lowered themselves in greeting.
“Today is a joyous occasion. Let us set formalities aside, just for the night.”
With his eyes still fixed on Eliana, the Crown Prince smiled gently, his eyes curving like crescent moons—radiant as sunlight breaking through the dawn.
“Yes, Your Highness.”
His gaze was so direct, Eliana blinked, visibly flustered.
Why… is the Crown Prince approaching me?
According to the original story, the Crown Prince was supposed to dance the first waltz with Lady Rancelloti, followed by a second with Freya.
“Duchess of Ascher, may I request a dance in celebration?”
Shainels extended his hand toward her as naturally as water flowing downhill. Eliana, eyes wide, looked stunned.
“Hic!”
She answered with a hiccup.
“Hic!”
It was the champagne—two full glasses of it, each boasting 12% alcohol. Her body couldn’t keep up.
“Hic!”
The repeated hiccups of the Duchess of Ascher sent a wave of stunned silence across the grand hall.
“Hic! Jo—hic! Jo—hic! El—hic! Sir Joel!”
Her accusatory gaze stabbed Joel like a dagger.
“Your Highness, as you can see, Her Grace is currently not in the best state for dancing. Please allow me to offer her apologies in her stead.”
“……”
Shainels froze in place, caught off guard by Joel’s impeccably polite and silky-smooth response.
“Hic! Hic!”
Meanwhile, Eliana’s hiccups only grew louder.
“I apologize, my lady. It seems I was mistaken. Allow me to escort you to the terrace for some fresh air.”
“Y-Yes… there’s no helping it now.”
With his hand awkwardly withdrawn, Shainels stood rooted, helpless, as Joel coolly carried out his “extraction” mission—escorting Eliana away while the prince could only watch, dazed and defeated.
