Chapter 11
Chapter 11
“Lady Goldrun.”
Bianca spoke with a soft smile as she began.
“This banquet belongs to Prince Manuel. So why did you approach Prince Luang first, instead of greeting the host first?”
“Uh… excuse me?”
It was a perfectly reasonable question. A light jab thrown straight at her.
Yet Angela had no idea how to respond. She didn’t look upset or offended. She genuinely didn’t understand why it was even an issue.
Bianca narrowed her eyes slightly.
‘What? Could she really have acted without thinking at all?’
Unlike Angela, Bianca Lascacchi had been raised in the heart of proper noble society. The Lascacchi family, Marquises of long-standing, had always sided with the First Prince and even had marital ties with the royal family centuries ago. Naturally, Bianca had become a central figure among the young ladies of her generation.
But such positions weren’t guaranteed by family alone. Social hierarchy among women was sharper than one might think. You didn’t need a sword to strike someone—one word could cut just as deep. Expressions, tone, gaze, even silence—small things determined who was pushed down, who stood above.
Experience surviving in such an environment was invaluable when choosing a marriage match later. It proved that one could manage a large household, navigate the tangled web of society, and handle intricate social relations.
So Bianca needed to maintain her position today. If someone threatened the social balance, even lightly, she had to set boundaries. That’s why she probed Angela with her question.
But her opponent was utterly unprepared. She didn’t flash a cunning smile to escape, didn’t shed a tear to earn sympathy—she just stood there blankly. Bianca felt her own tension deflate.
“Is the Goldrun family trying to favor Prince Luang over Prince Manuel? To display such intentions at Prince Manuel’s banquet… that’s rather bold.”
“Oh, no! I don’t have any authority like that.”
“Then why did you approach Prince Luang first? Can you explain?”
“Well…”
Angela’s lips moved, then froze.
Bianca pressed once more, but stopped herself. She actually knew very little about the Goldrun family. What she had just heard from a servant’s list was all. They were pro-Imperial faction, yes, but who they favored most remained unclear.
Perhaps Angela had been sent by her family? Such a naive type would be more believable if told exactly what to say.
But judging from her reaction, it wasn’t the case. Not acting under orders? Then why?
Her actions defied the norms of noble society. At these events, who you approached first, how long you conversed, and how visibly you smiled—all carried meaning. Especially when princes were involved. Yet Angela had acted as if she didn’t know—or didn’t care.
Even if she wanted to get close to Luang, running up alone like that was improper. Smiling and conversing publicly? That could be interpreted in three ways: insane, lovestruck, or allied with Luang.
Bianca glanced around. No one intervened. They whispered and observed, but nobody stepped in. Goldrun lacked a strong network here.
That meant Bianca could essentially decide how far Angela should be reined in.
‘If I go too far, I’ll look petty.’
Angela wasn’t sly. She wasn’t scheming. She was naïve—so naive it bordered on clueless. Mocking her mercilessly wouldn’t look impressive. It would look cheap. A few sharp words in private should suffice. That would teach her a lesson, and next time she’d avoid this mistake.
Just as Bianca decided this—
“Hey.”
“Huh?! Wh-who—”
A hand suddenly rested on Bianca’s shoulder. The thick, rough palm pressed lightly against her bare skin exposed by her dress. Bianca froze. Literally froze.
For a noblewoman, such contact was more than mere rudeness. It involved her body, her honor, and her family’s reputation. Women’s actions were scrutinized because pregnancy or scandal could not be hidden. Families strictly controlled pre-marital contact.
Bianca had rarely been touched by a man outside her father. That’s why she was so shocked.
Then she turned to identify the audacious man—and was struck silent.
“Bianca, was it?”
“P-Prince Luang?! What… what are you—”
“Hmm? Isn’t this just putting my arm around your shoulder?”
Bianca’s gaze wavered. In public. In front of so many. Casually.
No normal man would do this. Even if he intended mischief, it would usually be done where no one could see. Families didn’t want trouble. But with someone completely unpredictable… the rules didn’t apply.
Her heart raced. She wanted to flee, but couldn’t. His arm was strong, and every touch of his fingers along her shoulder sent shivers down her spine.
The young ladies who had been shooting vicious looks at Angela a moment ago stepped back the instant Luang intervened. From lions, they became terrified cats.
“I heard my name just now. I thought you, Lady Bianca, might want to get closer to me as well.”
“Huh? W-what…?”
“Haha, as I thought. I am very popular.”
Nonsense. Completely nonsense. The scarier part? He believed it.
“Now, what did you talk about?”
“Th-that…”
“Hmm. Difficult to answer? Very well.”
Luang’s gaze moved slowly. The tip of his sword followed. Bianca tensed, thinking it might be aimed at her. But it stopped at Angela.
“Ah, her?”
“Yes. You. Lady Angela.”
The air in the banquet hall noticeably sank.
“Speak honestly. What did she say?”
In that moment, Bianca’s spine chilled. She was completely isolated. A group is strong together; alone, weak. That was her state. If Angela played her cards wisely, it could be over in an instant.
“She insulted me.”
Or, “She interrogated me.” That one line would suffice. Bianca had no idea how Luang would take it, but one thing was clear: her reputation would take a serious hit from his madness.
In high society, the deadliest weapon wasn’t a sword or poison. It was drawing the wrong man’s attention at the wrong time.
Bianca would never hesitate in such a situation—survival depended on it.
She squeezed her eyes shut, almost resigned.
Angela couldn’t believe the situation unfolding before her. Saying “let’s meet again” didn’t mean this, surely. One thing was clear: Luang had saved her.
Until just moments ago, she had been lost, unaware of social norms, and being scolded by Bianca. That much made sense.
The problem was what followed. Luang appeared—and intervened violently.
‘Wait… he did save me, but…’
Angela’s expression shifted slightly as she observed his arm still resting on Bianca’s shoulder.
‘He’s definitely not completely normal. If the Saint were here, she’d soothe him gently… she’s not. What should I do?’
Her mind was complex, but she wasn’t panicked. Angela wasn’t weak. Had she been timid and passive, she never would have dared enter the noble social scene alone.
She hadn’t known what had gone wrong a moment ago. Now she did. The situation was strange. Very strange.
And she reached a very simple conclusion.
‘Still, a man doesn’t just touch a woman like that!’
Angela decided. She had to stop Luang. Even if her judgment, in many ways, reflected how little she understood noble society.