The Price of a Reputation
The rumors that Lady Laila was personally arranging government contracts for her troupe's actors spread like wildfire.
“I suppose all that high-minded posturing was just a means to drive up their price,” they whispered.
Such sneers were constant.
Yet, regardless of the mockery, countless eyes were fixed firmly on Laila’s salon and the Marelle Troupe. A significant number of nobles and wealthy magnates coveted the troupe’s lead actors, and a fierce, cutthroat competition had erupted, particularly over Luna and Sion.
People tried every possible way to slip Laila a business card inscribed with a bid, but perhaps fearing the rumors, Laila barely participated in social circles that month and remained in seclusion. The annex of the Andex estate where she resided, as well as the Wisteria Annex of the Klaus Duchy, had their front doors firmly shut; there was nowhere to leave a contact address under the guise of a visit.
Besides, one could hardly broach such dishonorable matters in a letter. Anyone with ears to the ground knew of the rumors, but they remained strictly under-the-table. One could not openly insult a noblewoman to her face.
Of course, in the shadows, even more scandalous things were being said. In truth, what most people were dying to know was, “Who will be the one to finally claim Laila?”
If she was selling off the actors of the Marelle Troupe, there was no reason she wouldn't sell her own beauty as well. Her elegance was merely a facade; at her core, she was likely nothing more than a vulgar woman.
Roella was immensely satisfied with these reactions. It felt as though a long-standing indigestion had finally been cleared away.
“Finally, everyone’s eyes are open.”
Roella spoke with delight, surrendering her head to the hands that were massaging oil into her hair. Even among high-class courtesans, there were women who boasted enough popularity to shake the social world, and if that was the kind of fame Laila had, it was something she could turn a blind eye to.
Caroline, who was standing by her side acting as a conversational partner, spoke softly.
“It is not yet time to be at ease. The rumors are branching out in strange directions.”
“Strange directions?”
“Yes. Sion Miller, you know who that is, right?”
“I do. Who doesn’t know that name these days?”
No matter how popular he was, Roella had no intention of watching The Curtain Opens. However, even though quite some time had passed, the face of the lead actor she had seen at the Imperial Music Salon remained etched in her memory. He was slightly outside of Roella’s personal taste, but that didn't mean he wasn't handsome.
Caroline continued.
“It seems there is a woman who has already claimed that Sion Miller.”
“Are they getting married or something?”
“If they were getting married, it wouldn’t have become this loud. At first, there was a rumor that it was the Countess of Albesleben.”
The Countess of Albesleben was a fervent fan of The Curtain Opens and an incredibly wealthy widow. She was not one to hide her desires, and she possessed enough wealth to be a secret patron to Sion Miller.
But seeing Caroline speak this way, it seemed that wasn't the case. Roella, who had been purring like a cat while surrendering her head to the massage, opened her eyes with interest and cast a gaze at her.
“Someone beat the Countess of Albesleben with money? I can’t think of anyone capable of that.”
“That is why it has become such a rumor. They are saying the criteria might not simply be financial gain.”
“Even so, it’s just a lowly act of selling laughter. Only those desperate to engage in such dirty business would care.”
Roella scoffed and closed her eyes again.
As the masseuse working on her hair signaled, a maid brought a basin of warm water. Feeling the warm water being poured over her scalp, Roella muttered in a sleepy voice.
“In the end, Laila is too afraid of the rumors to even open her salon. Now, it’s become difficult to tell if those are even real rumors anymore.”
Caroline could not respond with affirmation. It was certainly because of the rumors that Laila was unable to open a second salon. If the Wisteria Annex salon were to open now, it would only be attended by lecherous people blinded by their own desires, so it was better not to open it at all.
However, it didn't feel like Laila would fall so easily. She was a woman who had risen to fame by becoming the eye of the storm the moment she appeared in high society. It was unlikely she could be toppled so easily.
‘Perhaps I am overthinking things.’
Caroline suppressed her anxiety and kept her mouth shut. Roella seemed to have lost interest in the conversation; she yawned as the towel was wrapped around her hair, and soon, she began to breathe rhythmically, truly falling asleep.
If Roella had known where Olivia was at that moment, she would never have been able to sleep so peacefully.
Olivia was sitting at a table beneath a willow tree in the garden of a certain mansion.
It was a house with a garden so vast that even in the middle of the capital, no noise could reach it. The building itself was small, but the garden was wide and the fences were high. When she first passed through the gates, it felt like entering a prison, but once she was fully inside, the openness was such that she didn't feel confined at all.
The sunset stained the sky a deep purple, and the strong sunlight, just before fading, seeped through the swaying willow leaves. There were no flowers decorating the table, but a subtle fragrance lingered in the air, as if they were blooming somewhere nearby.
It was a romantic scene, but Olivia’s heart was as sharp as a blade. Although she had failed to receive the invitation she wanted, she had not come here to be crushed like a flower petal.
“Would you like a glass of champagne?”
The elderly butler waiting by the table asked politely. She smiled and nodded.
“Please.”
Soon, a bottle of wine in an ice bucket and a small plate of nuts appeared. The golden liquid poured into the beautiful glass was neither too sweet nor too bitter, and the temperature was perfect.
Olivia did not have a high tolerance for alcohol. Since she had to be careful with what she drank today, she merely moistened her lips and set the glass down.
It was then that Ezekiel arrived.
He had no guards with him, and he was dressed comfortably, with his jacket buttons undone and his tie loosened. The butlers stood at attention to greet him, but Olivia neither stood up nor looked back.
“A rude guest. The host has arrived, yet you don’t even look at him.”
She arrogantly swirled the glass in her hand.
“The rude one is you, Duke. You invite a lady and then show up late. Besides, what is with that attire?”
“I didn't expect to be criticized for that. Are we still not on comfortable enough terms for this?”
It was an absurd statement. After all, this was the first time they had met alone like this.
However, it was not a bad sign. Ezekiel was not yet angry with her, nor did he intend to flip the game board. If so, she might be able to escape without incident.
“Sit down.”
Instead of responding to his words, Olivia spoke generously, as if she were the owner of the house. Ezekiel chuckled and sat in the opposite chair, and instead of asking for his own glass, he took the one from between her fingers and brought it to his lips.
“You seem to be in a good mood.”
“Well. There is something I am still debating whether to consider a good mood or not.”
“What is it?”
“Becoming the person everyone in high society is most curious about.”
“The Duke’s recent affairs are always what everyone is most curious about. That’s nothing new.”
“Lately, it seems the position of being the master of a certain woman is more famous.”
He said it as if he were teasing her. Olivia, acting the part of an offended noblewoman, turned her head with a cold expression.
“I don’t know what you are talking about.”
“Shall I give you a business card?”
Ezekiel laughed, as if everything would be decided the moment he gave it to her. Under the table, his foot reached out and slid beneath the hem of Olivia’s skirt. She knew it was happening, but she didn't move her feet to avoid it; she stayed right where she was.
Ezekiel’s shoe rested quietly atop the pointed toe of the shoe she was wearing. As if debating whether to step down or not. Yet, his face remained fixed in a smile.