Chapter 100
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 100
I followed the attendant deeper into the venue. Despite the efforts to maintain a dignified atmosphere, the place felt strangely crowded.
“There are quite a lot of people here.”
“Yes, My Lady. Since it has been a while since Her Majesty the Empress last hosted a party, she has invited many ladies who are either preparing for their debutante or have only recently made their debut.”
“But I noticed some royalty from other nations earlier as well.”
“Indeed. Guests have arrived from several kingdoms.”
“I see.”
The attendant seemed to be choosing his words carefully, so I didn't press further.
Why throw such a grand party?
Even if it had been a while, a tea party was usually a small-scale affair. Inviting around twenty people would have been more than enough.
Is this something else entirely?
I made my way toward the seats of honor. I could see several young ladies quickly hiding their mouths behind their fans and whispering the moment they recognized me.
They know who I am.
As expected of Tulia.
She had the star power of a devil.
Unlike the foreign royalty, the nobles of the Empire were well-acquainted with Tulia’s notoriety.
Naturally, my seat was prepared at the most prestigious table.
Until the Empress arrived, no one sat down. Instead, they moved about, exchanging greetings and making small talk.
Since I didn't particularly know anyone, I was about to just take my seat, but then...
Tap, tap.
“Tulia…”
“…?”
“My Lady…?”
The voice added the title ‘My Lady’ with a subtle, lingering delay.
“Sandra Frezier?”
Sandra. She was Nigella’s stepdaughter.
The moment she saw me, she scanned my dress from top to bottom before letting out a breath of admiration.
“Oh my, what a beautiful dress. I suppose your circumstances really have changed from before.”
Ho-oh.
The ‘Noble Language Translator’ in Tulia’s head began to whir.
“It’s nothing. This was always my rightful place.”
A small crack appeared in Sandra’s smile.
It was then.
“Ahem.”
Someone let out a blatant, forced cough.
I turned around and was genuinely surprised.
“Uncle Nigella?”
What is with this party?
The invitation Empress Carmi sent originally stated that only ladies under the age of twenty were invited.
Yet, now that I was here, I could see young lords under twenty scattered about as well.
Well, it was obvious that the blonde male lead, Benjamin, and the other princes of the Sorsen Kingdom came specifically for this party.
I could accept that much.
But why was this man, who had to be at least forty, here?
Did he come as Sandra’s guardian?
The Empress and Nigella must be closer than I thought.
I recalled the Statis Plains horse ranch business that had ended in failure.
It seemed they had built a rapport back then, likely through a lot of networking and even more bribes.
After that, several other noblewomen arrived, but they were all people known to be the Empress’s ‘inner circle,’ sharing deep ties with Carmi.
Grandfather despised Empress Carmi, yet his own son was building such close relations with her.
I wonder if Grandfather knows about this.
As I was clicking my tongue inwardly, a voice rang out.
“Mother!”
Sandra called out joyfully, looking behind me. I reflexively turned around and—
Wow.
I gaped inwardly at the woman’s striking fashion.
It wasn't that it was overly revealing. The Imperial Palace was strict, with even the style of clothing being regulated.
However, her dress was so heavily adorned with jewels that it looked obscenely expensive at a glance.
That thing must cost billions of gold.
To think a single outfit could cost that much…
The woman wearing a dress so extravagant that even the Empress might only wear it for a special ceremony was none other than—
“Hello, Lady Merton.”
Belladonna Merton, the mistress of Count Nigella Frezier.
“You may call me Lady Belladonna, Lady Tulia.”
“It is a pleasure, Lady Belladonna.”
“Oh my, hohoho!”
The original Tulia would have utterly ignored Belladonna Merton, outraged that a ‘mere mistress’ dared to act friendly with her.
Or she would have insulted her and started a massive scene.
Looking at it this way, Tulia really wasn't in her right mind either.
Belladonna Merton was beautiful, but she looked incredibly venomous.
And her personality matches.
A beautiful poisonous mushroom.
I suppose one had to be at least that much to occupy the position of mistress to a Great Count.
“By the way, Lady Tulia.”
Belladonna smiled, unfurling her fan.
“Setting me aside, you and Sandra are technically cousins…”
Her purple eyes curved into a seductive arc.
“Rather than the stiff and distant title of ‘Lady Tulia,’ wouldn't it be better to call each other ‘Sister’ more affectionately?”
Belladonna turned to Nigella, who was standing beside her, for confirmation.
“Don't you agree, Count?”
“Ahem. Well, she isn't wrong.”
They’re so obsessed with titles.
Since I still had my identity as Han Ina, I wasn't particularly sensitive about how people addressed me.
However, since the world of The Milk Bread was an aristocratic society, I knew very well that high-ranking nobles were extremely sensitive to titles.
In the first place, Sandra had no right to call me ‘Sister.’
If we were being technical, Sophia was the only one who could even remotely call me that, since she was at least the daughter of a Frezier vassal.
But Sandra literally had no connection to the Frezier bloodline. She was simply a case where Count Nigella had forced her into the family registry.
She was a ‘Frezier’ who had signed a contract stating she would receive no dowry or gifts from the Frezier family funds when she married or had her debutante.
Even if I weren't Tulia but just some ordinary noble lady, I would find this incredibly offensive.
In fact, even Nigella wasn't ‘demanding’ it; he was cautiously watching my reaction.
Of course, if I said no here, the three of them would probably attack me, right?
“Go ahead then. Call me Sister.”
Belladonna’s fan, which had been moving gracefully, came to a slight halt.
“…Oh?”
“Then I’ll call you Sister!” Sandra shouted quickly.
“Sure.”
Perhaps because my reaction was a bit—no, extremely—underwhelming, Belladonna’s expression turned strange. She tried to hide it, but she was scanning me with searching eyes.
Let her call me whatever she wants.
If she wanted to call me ‘Brother’ or ‘Oppa,’ I was more than willing to let her.
I wasn't bored enough to get hung up on something as trivial as a title.
“But what brings Lady Belladonna to the Imperial Palace?”
This was what I was truly curious about.
How did Belladonna Merton, who was nothing more than a mistress, receive an invitation to a party at the Empress’s Palace?
Had Nigella become that much of a confidant to the Empress?
“Hoho, you’ll find out soon enough. There is a very surprising and joyous occasion coming up. Oh, Count! There is Marchioness Allen! Let’s go and greet her!”
In an instant, Nigella and Belladonna vanished.
I was left with a strange, lingering sense of unease.
A joyous occasion.
Out of all the Freziers, only I and Count Nigella’s family were invited.
I couldn't fathom the Empress’s intentions.
Then, a sudden thought occurred to me.
Wait… it couldn't be, right?
Come to think of it, Sophia, who was an adopted daughter, was already engaged to Crown Prince Ferdinand.
Don't tell me she wants to use my status.
She isn't planning to engage me to her son—that hooligan madman, Second Prince Dave—is she?
Is that why she excluded Grandfather, who would never stand for it, and only invited Count Nigella’s family, who would take her side…?
The sudden thought sent chills down my spine.
No, no. That would be a disaster.
No matter how powerful Empress Carmi was—no, even if it were Emperor Alexander himself—they couldn't pull off something that significant without Grandfather’s consent.
“Sister. Aren't you being a bit rude?”
Sandra’s voice broke through my thoughts.
“About what?”
“My mother is still older than you. Technically, she’s your aunt.”
Sandra continued primly, lightly fluttering her ornate, jewel-encrusted fan.
“Even so, when my mother calls you ‘My Lady,’ you should have had the tact to politely decline.”
Since she had been invited by the Empress and we weren't in the Grand Duchy, Sandra didn't even bother to watch her tone, speaking to me informally.
Is she… did she go crazy just because I told her to call me sister…?
I’m already a bit sensitive because of the terrible thought I just had, you know?
I am Tulia.
The biggest piece of trash in this neighborhood.
I countered with a kind smile.
“And why should I?”
“What?”
“Why didn't you just tell Uncle Nigella yourself, Sandra?”
“But it’s only proper that you bring it up first!”
“Proper? Ah, right. That’s important. Propriety.”
I grinned brightly, like a thug who had just found an excuse to start a fight.
“Right, Sandra. I wasn't thinking clearly.”
“Right?! Then later, when Mother comes back…”
“Don't tell Uncle Nigella. Tell Grandfather, Sandra.”
The moment I mentioned Grandfather, Sandra’s expression froze in panic.
“…What?”
“Think about it. Using a title that lowers my status is directly linked to the honor of the Frezier family. So, it’s only right that you tell Grandfather, the Head of House Frezier, ‘directly,’ isn't it?”
Sandra immediately began to tremble.
“H-how could I say such a thing to His Grace…! Then you should be the one to tell him! You’re the one who enjoys all of his favor!”
“I don't want to.”
Sandra’s mouth snapped shut.
“Why should I do something so useless?”
“Sister! Are you trying to insult me right now?!”
“You’re the one insulting me right now, Sandra.”
I now knew how to easily resolve ‘situations’ as Tulia.
I just had to glare at her like a vengeful spirit.
And ask her in a voice that sounded like a devil’s whisper.
“Did I ever give you permission to speak to me informally?”
You’re the one who turned me into the ultimate stickler for hierarchy, Sandra.
“I told you to call me Sister. I never said you could drop the formalities.”
“Sis—!”
“Go ahead, scream. Unless you want to have your hair grabbed in front of everyone.”
Sandra flinched and stiffened.
“D-do you really think you can grab my hair when both my father and mother are right here…?!”
“Is that so?”
The corners of my mouth curled up into a wide, sinister grin.
“Do you really think… I couldn't?”