Chapter 7: Afternoon Tea

The afternoon tea gathering included almost all the children of the Marquises, with only the scions of the two ducal houses absent.

Nearly every high-ranking youth was present, while only a few children of Earls attended, seated in the furthest corner from the Crown Prince, leaning against the hedge walls.

Solene had never participated in a private royal banquet, whereas Caleb had attended several.

Consequently, she was unfamiliar with their customs and decided to proceed with caution, speaking as little as possible.

Though the guests were not in formal attire, a closer look revealed significant effort: meticulous makeup and perfectly tailored necklines.

The young men, in particular, had clearly inquired about the Crown Prince's chosen colors for the day to avoid any sartorial conflict.

Despite the engagement banquet not yet being held, news traveled among the nobility faster than the newspapers could print.

The crowd observed Solene with varying degrees of wariness, though a few looked her up and down with unabashed scrutiny.

"Quiet, everyone," Ian said calmly, raising his hand.

The scene fell silent instantly, all eyes focusing on Solene.

"Good afternoon, everyone. I am Countess Solene of the Vaisman family." She assumed these people wouldn't openly snub her.

However, a woman in a dark green gown raised her lace fan to cover a mocking laugh. "Vaisman? The ward of that parvenu who runs the casinos?"

At this, the ladies at her table joined in the laughter. Solene watched her calmly, offering a slight smile. "Indeed. I am surprised Miss Hill recognizes me."

Hill was the only daughter of the Vane family, whose head was one of the two old Marquises from the earlier meeting. Her brother appeared to be absent today. As a daughter born late in her father's life, Hill enjoyed limitless indulgence.

"Ha," Hill scoffed softly. Solene maintained her smile, though her hand gripped her fan a little tighter.

Ian remained silent at first, merely resting his hand on the back of his chair. Then, with a smile, he said, "Isn't the Vane family's fortune built on brothels? How do you have the nerve to bring up such things? Besides, hasn't Solene abolished the casinos since taking over?"

He kept his smile as he calmly pulled out a chair for Solene and assisted her in sitting before taking his own seat.

Watching Hill's humiliated expression, he continued, "Hill, we grew up together. Control your temper."

Solene was somewhat surprised; it seemed the Crown Prince was not as simple or easily bullied as the rumors suggested.

None of the desserts on the table were the ones Ian had claimed to love. Solene blinked; it appeared the Crown Prince was well aware of his current predicament. But if so, why had he agreed to the engagement?

"Brother Ian!" Hill slammed her fan onto the table with such force that the surface rattled.

A Marquis's daughter at the adjacent table furrowed her brow, clearly displeased by the outburst. She rose gracefully, her voice carrying a hint of detachment: "Your Imperial Highness, I feel slightly unwell. I shall take my leave first."

Ian nodded gently, his tone warm. "Your health has always been delicate. Go as you please."

Solene's gaze remained sharp, tracking the receding figure. She mused to herself—the rumors regarding the rift between Miss Bowen of the Isabelle family and Hill were clearly not groundless. Both were daughters of Marquises and key aides to the Empress; while their subtle rivalry was kept under wraps, today's scene confirmed the private whispers.

Remaining outwardly stoic, Solene felt a surge of inner satisfaction, like a spectator enjoying the infighting of the aristocracy. As long as the fire didn't reach her, these high-society disputes were nothing more than a splendid play. In fact, she secretly hoped the drama would intensify.

Seeing her provocation fail, Hill found nowhere to vent her fury. She turned and, in a near-commanding tone, called upon several noble youths. Usually arrogant, they now acted like startled birds, hurriedly beginning to play instruments and hum tunes, acting like well-rehearsed performers on a stage.

Solene kept her serene smile. When the song ended, she was the first to clap, her applause crisp and clear. She turned to Ian, her eyes gleaming with praise. "That was marvelous. Miss Hill truly has excellent taste."

Ian smiled and nodded in agreement. "It was indeed pleasant to the ear. All performers should be rewarded."

Solene's move was a subtle twist of the knife in Hill's heart. Based on her observations, Hill would not let this rest, though she certainly wouldn't dare strike at her directly.

Hill stood up abruptly, her fluffy, curled silver hair slightly disheveled by her rage. She snapped, "They've sung this song countless times—always this one! They are deliberately patronizing me!" Turning to Ian, she cried, "Brother Ian, I truly think it's awful. I demand a different song!"

Ian pulled back his smile and said sternly, "Enough nonsense."

Hearing his tone, Hill clenched her fists and strode over to the singing woman, delivering a sharp slap—as if that blow were meant for Solene.

Solene laughed inwardly; the fish had taken the bait. She furrowed her brow slightly, saying with feigned concern, "Miss Hill, please let her go. She only sang a song."

But Hill seemed even more agitated. Hearing this, she delivered another slap. The struck woman sat on the ground, staring at Hill with reddened eyes. "What are you looking at? The Bruce family hasn't been fit for a Marquis's title for a long time."

It was true; the Bruce family was on the brink of bankruptcy, now relying entirely on the allied Heather family.

A man playing the piano stood up, shielding the woman. He gripped Hill's hand firmly and flung it away. He then led the woman toward Ian, saying, "Your Imperial Highness, my fiancée and I will take our leave now."

On the surface, Solene looked worriedly at the struck woman, but internally she felt nothing. She had done this intentionally so the focus would shift away from her. Outwardly, she was pulling the singer into her camp, but in reality, she was using her as a shield.

To offend two children of Marquises at once—both from venerable families highly regarded by the commoners and both part of the Empress's faction—Hill, you truly are your father's daughter.

"Hill, I shall suggest to your father that you refrain from going out for a while. Calm your mind and restrain your temper before you venture out again."

With those words, the afternoon tea ended on a sour note. Solene caught a glimpse of the Empress's niece watching the scene from the side; she wore a cold sneer, her gaze piercingly icy.

Solene did her best to remain composed as she followed Ian out, though her palms were slick with sweat. Clearly, the other woman had seen through her ruse.

As they boarded the carriage, Ian noticed her damp hands and asked with a slight frown, "Did Hill frighten you?"

Solene looked down in silence, eventually shaking her head. "The summer heat is intense, and I was a bit nervous meeting your friends."

Ian comforted her with a smile. "Don't be nervous. They are just ordinary friends. Hill is merely a sacrifice in the friendly dealings between families."

Having said this, he paused abruptly and waved goodbye. "Remember to write to me. You are on my mother's side; your letters won't be intercepted."

For some reason, he always felt the urge to confide in Solene.

Solene froze for a moment, then nodded and sat back in the carriage. So, the Crown Prince knew everything all along.

What did "sacrifice" truly mean? Solene fell into deep thought. Hill was so insolent before the Prince, suggesting she had behaved this way before, yet Ian had never disciplined her much. Her personality was a result of everyone's indulgence, leading her step by step into an abyss she didn't perceive.

Solene had thought her little scheme was a success, only to realize it was part of a pre-arranged outcome; she was merely the feather that finally tipped the scales. She clenched her fists, sighing inwardly: the world of the Imperial royalty was far more complex and cruel than she had imagined.

The engagement banquet was set for three months later, at the transition between late autumn and early winter. During this time, the Crown Prince and she frequently attended banquets together, took cruises to admire the scenery, sketched flowers, and watched the latest plays, becoming an enviable couple.

After a play promoting the gemstones, the Empress also agreed to her plan.

For some reason, since meeting Ian, Solene began recording the daily events. Her mother had once revealed a secret about the Church—a mysterious artifact known only to the Saintess and the Priest. Once leaked, the speaker would be cursed to a miserable death. Solene stole the artifact and accidentally discovered the Saintess's secret—she could not control her holy power at all.

The script on the Oracle Book was indecipherable to ordinary people; only a Saintess recognized by the Goddess could interpret it. It appeared the Priest's daughter was not recognized by the Goddess but had stolen the original Saintess's power. Solene wrote an anonymous letter to the Priest, exposing the secrets of the entire Church. Now, the Church was under her thumb. Since the artifact was missing and the curse on it threatened everyone's safety, the Priest dared not make the matter public.

Meanwhile, Solene was secretly absorbing the power of the mana stones Ian had given her, leaving only the pink magic stone untouched. Thanks to Hill's "help," Solene successfully reached private agreements with the Bruce and Heather families. These families were desperate for funding, which Solene possessed in abundance; she, in turn, needed the recognition of the old nobility and the commoners of the Upper City.

Thus, Solene began winning over the people by donating to orphanages and providing free medical supplies. Her charitable acts appeared frequently in major newspapers, eventually catching the Empress's attention. But the Empress assumed this was merely a marketing tactic for Solene's gemstone brand.

As the engagement banquet arrived, everything seemed to be going according to plan. However, at this seemingly peaceful gala, Solene quietly slipped an aphrodisiac into Ian's wine...

Ian, I'm bored of playing with you.