The Royal Palace Banquet #3
A navy dress worked with elaborate embroidery, jewelry glittering at every point. Even the arrogance that radiated from the tip of her upturned chin was unmistakable.
It was a look one might find on any noble young lady — yet her arrogance and self-assurance felt distinctly different from the rest.
I hesitated over how to answer her.
Telling her I was not a palace servant but a viscount's son would have been easy enough.
But even if I said so, I suspected the reply would amount to something like, So what? She did not seem the type to spare a thought for a mere viscount.
I would probably receive only slightly better treatment than a commoner.
In that situation, there seemed little to gain by revealing I was a viscount's son.
I would be lucky if it did not work against me.
"I received my master's permission to take a brief rest. If I have offended your eyes, my lady, I can only apologize."
Besides, calling myself a servant was not wrong. I was Helena's servant, after all.
So I decided not to correct the woman's misunderstanding and simply accept it as it stood.
I had lived as a servant until now, and for all intents and purposes I would continue to play that role going forward.
"Your master... If you mean your master, you must surely be speaking of His Majesty, the master of this nation. Are you saying you received permission directly from His Majesty?"
"Of course not. But I call the one who directly commands and orders me my master. His Majesty is as lofty as the heavens themselves — he can hardly be expected to take notice of every insignificant creature."
"Hmm. So the one who gives orders is the master. You make a rather sensible point. Indeed, His Majesty would hardly waste words on a mere servant like you. Even if you stretched out your hand, you could never reach the sky."
Having anticipated her arrogant nature, I answered with appropriate deference, and she seemed easily convinced.
Through the exchange I also realized her arrogance was not merely a matter of attitude — her entire way of thinking was thoroughly aristocratic.
She was the perfect specimen of the noble people freely imagined: arrogant and wealthy.
"You look rather young, yet you know your place well. Perhaps that is how you came to work in this palace."
She muttered to herself, nodding.
She seemed a noble of quite high standing, so I would not say much — but something about her felt lacking.
Or perhaps it was simply the result of living in an environment where she had never needed to hide her true feelings.
"Thank you. Once again, I apologize for disturbing your ladyship's peace of mind. Now, if you'll excuse me..."
"Wait."
I had no desire to prolong a conversation with a woman like this.
She was pretty enough, but she had nothing on Helena — not in looks, not in personality, nothing.
Yet something about me had displeased her, and she called me back.
"...What is it, my lady?"
Examining her expression carefully, she did not seem irritated.
If anything, the smile on her face suggested she was in rather good spirits.
It was hard to believe this was the same woman who had worn such a cold look moments before.
"Mm. It's nothing much... I simply find your rather handsome face to my liking. I quite like it."
"I'm grateful for the compliment, but..."
Without so much as asking permission, the woman ran her finger along my jaw — as if checking whether there was dust on a windowsill.
Because of that, I trailed off without meaning to.
I could already guess what she intended.
From the way her eyes raked me up and down as if appraising merchandise, to the way her fingers traced my jaw and various parts of my body...
It was exactly as the rumors painted the noble young ladies — most of whom led dissolute lives.
Young ladies were usually tools of political marriage, so they had to maintain proper conduct.
Noble men preferred pure women, after all.
But that was only the outward appearance... the truth was quite different.
Countless noble ladies would secretly summon servants, attendants, or any man who caught their fancy for trysts.
All to satisfy their own desires.
Rumors about which young lady had slept with whom rarely spread far.
Anyone who spread such gossip risked severe punishment for defamation, or even execution in extreme cases — so people kept quiet.
Thus many young ladies maintained a clean facade.
The filthy discharge of desire beneath the surface.
A world where such things were tacitly tolerated. This, too, was one face of the young ladies' society.
Only those swept up and discarded by that current deserved pity.
Having spent so long in the Krauser Dukedom, I had almost forgotten this fact. I carefully opened my mouth.
"Um... what exactly is this about?"
"Don't you understand? I was appraising you. And... you're rather — no, quite fine. I like you very much."
The woman now openly stroked my thigh, breathing heavily with excitement.
Her cheeks were flushed, and her eyes burned with a faint flame of lust.
Adding the anticipation written across her face, it was clear what she was thinking.
Right now, this woman intended to summon me as a plaything to satisfy her desires.
"Excellent. You — come with me to my room at once. I have something for you to do."
"I'm sorry, but I must return to my post immediately after my rest. If you have business, please find someone else..."
"Pfft! Are you saying a mere head servant outranks me, Agnes Kilinaire? What an ignorant child you are, so utterly unaware of how the world works."
I had thought she came from a high house, but I never imagined she was a daughter of the Kilinaire ducal family.
I had never even seen her face before.
To think she was one of the three great ducal houses that stood shoulder to shoulder with Krauser and Kaliwood.
Still, that did not mean I needed to tread carefully beyond what was necessary. No — I shouldn't.
Helena mattered far more than offending this woman.
And judging by the way things were going, she clearly intended to thoroughly enjoy herself in broad daylight... refusing was the obvious choice.
Of course, there were ways to be more roundabout. I could somehow talk my way around her, buy time, and resolve things peacefully.
But I doubted I could manage such a thing, and more importantly, I had no desire to.
It might create friction between the ducal houses, but if I bowed too low, it could wound my pride.
Of course, someone like me talking about a ducal house's pride was laughable in itself.
Even so, I felt it was right to make an exception for someone this pushy.
I would maintain basic courtesy, but people of this sort were likely to invent words that never existed anyway.
In the end, since friction with a woman like Agnes had already arisen, I concluded that somewhat rough methods were the only way to resolve it.
It would cause considerable trouble, but there was no helping it.
"That isn't the case. But my master is waiting, so as someone who works under her, isn't it only natural that I hurry back? I apologize to your ladyship, but I will be returning to my post."
In situations like this, most people would be so intimidated they would agree to go along.
So Agnes turned her back as if she did not even need to hear my answer. She was already leading the way, assuming I would follow.
Naturally, then, the expression she revealed as she turned warped.
"You... are you refusing my invitation? A mere servant like you?"
"...Forgive me."
This time I turned my back, intending to leave the rose garden.
There seemed no point in drawing out the conversation any further.
It was somewhat rude, but I felt the need to be firm if I was going to get out of this situation.
Besides, the one trying to drag a man into her bed in broad daylight was the strange one here.
"Stop right there! Do you want to die?!"
Agnes raised her voice. The fact that she was asking if I wanted to die suggested she was thoroughly enraged.
Should I ignore her? Or not?
I hesitated for a moment at the crossroads of choice, then decided to turn my head after all.
I was curious what expression Agnes was making, and I wanted to confirm what she would say next.
When I looked back, Agnes's expression was exactly what one might have expected.
A face twisted with humiliation and shame, flushed red. Even her hands were trembling.
It was the look of a woman whose pride had been wounded.
"Are you going to kill me?"
"You think I won't?! Not only did you dare refuse my invitation — you humiliated me like this!"
"Your ladyship is mistaken in calling it humiliation. I am simply going to do my work. Fulfilling one's assigned duties is only right and proper, and I believe Duke Kilinaire himself would say the same... would he not?"
"How dare that filthy mouth of yours invoke even my father!"
Agnes huffed and closed the distance until she stood right in front of my nose.
Close enough that she could touch me if she reached out. What would she say next?
"You lowborn thing who doesn't know your place!"
Slap!
Without thinking, I pressed my palm to my burning cheek.
Saying whatever she liked was one thing — but I never imagined she would actually slap me across the face.
It felt like I had been struck hard on the back of the head.
"Do you really think you can treat me so rudely... and walk away unscathed?"
Having slapped me, the woman seemed to have cooled somewhat, steadying her ragged breathing.
She was clearly a woman who had lived a life where the world adjusted itself to her, rather than the other way around.
So I could understand why her boiling point was so low.
But that did not mean I was not angry at all.
Part of me wanted to pull the dirk from my coat and at least threaten her, but doing so would almost certainly escalate into a major incident.
So I decided the best course was to answer as blandly as possible, wearing the coldest look I could manage.
"You wouldn't casually harm someone simply trying their best at their work. Everyone here understands honor, after all. Now, if you'll excuse me."
I put weight on the word everyone, then left the rose garden.
If she contradicted me, it would leave room to interpret her as someone who treated those devoted to their duties like discarded trash — or as someone who knew nothing of honor.
That, I thought, was why she could not find a reply.
"Tsk."
I sighed and made my way toward Helena's chambers.
Even if I had smoothed things over for the moment, given Agnes's temperament, she seemed likely to dig her claws in and not let go.
With this type, avoidance was the only real solution...
"I might end up causing trouble."
My flushed cheek seemed to have cooled enough, and it was not noticeable.
Before entering Helena's room, I had checked my face in the mirror in my own quarters, so I thought there would be no problem.
But I was wrong.
"Zion. That cheek... where did you get hit?"
Helena barely finished welcoming me before asking about my cheek.
I had checked and thought it looked fine, yet she noticed like a ghost. Under normal circumstances, my heart would have dropped.
"How did you know?"
I asked, calming the slight skip of my heartbeat. The way her expression transformed in an instant, those bottomless eyes — I was all too familiar with both.
Obsession was a sickness one could never truly get used to, no matter how hard one tried — yet strangely, a sense of resignation came first.
"I can just tell by looking. So — who hit you?"
"Agnes Kilinaire."
It felt a bit like tattling like a child, but I could not lie to Helena about something like this.
Besides, if I tried to brush it off to avoid friction, I might end up being misunderstood as protecting Agnes.
Clearing up a misunderstanding would not be hard, but it would be tedious — so it was wiser not to give it a chance to start.
"Agnes...? That reeking whore laid a hand on my Zion?"
Words cold as ice spilled from Helena's lips. At the same time, the edge of the bed she was gripping gave a sharp crack. She was clearly furious.
And whether it was fortunate or unfortunate —
Unlike the atmosphere that suggested she might cause an incident at any moment, she showed a cold, calculating side, intent on grasping the situation first.
"I can guess the reason, but... I'll ask to be sure. Why did that bitch put her hands on you?"