Chapter 57
Chapter 57
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 57
Chapter Title: The Princess's Greenhouse Party
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"Her Highness the Princess specifically asked me to convey that she hopes you will attend."
The driver cautiously urged Dever, who for some reason showed no sign of getting into the car.
Dever knew full well what this invitation meant.
The main victory banquet wouldn't begin until the night after the army arrived. And the one hosting the first night of those grand festivities was Princess Raphaelle.
Celebrating the start of the ceasefire with the beloved princess had somehow become a tradition in Nexus.
"Where to?"
At that moment, a roar of cheers erupted. It was soon drowned out by the boisterous singing of the crowd and the fireworks painting the sky, all tangled in chaotic symphony.
Dever got into the car without waiting for an answer. The faint furrow in his brow and the sigh he let out spoke volumes of his exhaustion.
The princess's banquet was for everyone in Wayne, but the secretive gathering known only to high society unfolded in Raphaelle's greenhouse garden.
Raphaelle tended her garden obsessively for this one day. The world's rarest flowers were drawn to it, and the moment they trended, she ruthlessly uprooted them from her own beds.
It was a garden of true extravagance.
Dever could already imagine the cloying floral scent assaulting his nose, so he rolled down the window. The biting winter wind slashed across his face through the moving car window, but he gazed out with an expression that betrayed no sensation at all.
Another night without Beth was beginning.
Just another night, nothing more.
"Your Highness. You're growing more beautiful by the day."
"Oh, hardly, Lord Ronald."
"The rarest jewel of the manor royal family is none other than Princess Raphaelle."
"You're too kind. Look at all these lovely ladies here."
Raphaelle touched her pink-tinged cheeks as she parried the man's sweet words. That single gesture brightened the faces of the men surrounding her.
She had a natural talent for handling men like candy on her tongue. She was grateful to have inherited at least this one thing from her mother.
The greenhouse garden, oblivious to the night, shone brighter than the stars in the sky.
White wisteria draped the glass ceiling like a galaxy, while in the center, a fountain rose gently to the tune of soft melodies, captivating everyone's attention.
Raphaelle leisurely admired her creation as she stepped lightly forward.
Every time she moved, men approached with words, and ladies eager to get close to the princess showered her with excited compliments.
Raphaelle took her place in the center of the greenhouse, with a clear view of the entrance. Her garden was already packed to the brim with invitees— all the most eligible bachelors from Nexus's prominent noble houses.
"What a beautiful garden, Your Highness."
"The faces gathering here are even more beautiful than the garden."
Raphaelle let a subtle smile play on her lips.
She knew the base desires of these people, who entered puffed up in their finery.
Men kept mistresses on the side but wanted chaste, beautiful wives. Women coveted the spot beside men richer and more powerful than their own families.
Under the guise of celebrating and consoling over the ceasefire, it was a chance to size each other up freely.
That was the true purpose of the princess's greenhouse garden party.
"He'll be arriving soon,"
Bell whispered as she approached the princess. Unlike in her private chambers, she wore the same uniform as the other maids, her hair pinned up identically, rendering her plain face utterly unremarkable amid the crowd.
"Ah, there he is already."
The corner of her red lips curved upward.
With each light step, the tiny, downy sprouts on the floor were crushed beneath her feet.
"I was so worried you might not come, my lord."
Her voice was far more alluring than when addressing the other men.
Dever approached, fastening the loosened button on his suit jacket. From his neatly combed hair to his straight forehead and impassive gaze— the only difference from the battlefield was the absence of his uniform.
"You look dashing as ever tonight, my lord."
The one sincere remark amid all her flattery that night.
His looks were exactly to Raphaelle's taste. Not in a carnal way, of course.
Just as one feels satisfied viewing a fine painting or strokes a rare flower once or twice— that level of appreciation.
It was a pity his aesthetic sense had rotted to choose some girl named Beth.
"Dever...?"
"You look beautiful as well, Your Highness."
"Oh, hardly."
Raphaelle naturally took her place beside him. With a tilt of her head, she signaled him to escort her, and Dever promptly offered his arm.
"Well, if it isn't Dever!"
"Dever here! It's been ages. Remember me? Last year at the hunt—"
"Dever! You're back alive!"
"An honor to see Duke Cliff."
The crowd vied to greet the princess and duke as they entered the garden with elegant poise.
These were the ones who had dodged the battlefield with excuses of illness, being the sole heirs, shell-shocked by gunfire— whatever it took. They shamelessly cast aside their dignity now, eager for any scraps from Dever.
"I've been dying to discuss business with you."
"Our family has been in the coal mining trade for generations."
With Cliff Family's arms business expanding, they couldn't pass up a chance to corner the elusive Dever Cliff.
"Dever."
Raphaelle gave a slight tug at the collar of his arm-linked sleeve.
Dever's gaze, which had been indifferently scanning the figures ahead, dropped downward.
"Yes, what is it?"
"I'll go check on the ladies for a moment."
Dever smoothly withdrew his arm. Though irritation flared at how readily he shook her off, Raphaelle smiled as if unperturbed.
"Then, enjoy your chats."
No one dared comment on Raphaelle acting as if she were Dever's wife. A few dullards merely smacked their lips regretfully at the princess.
"It's great to see you like this, Dever."
"Speak for yourself."
With the princess dismissed, Dever's expression grew even chillier. His shirt, suit, and cuffs were impeccably in place, yet he exuded a raw, untamed air.
Dever uncorked a champagne bottle from the side table with little care. The shaken liquid erupted in white foam like fireworks from the neck.
"Ugh! Damn it!"
"What the hell!"
A few men whose suits and shoe tips were soaked pawed at their clothes and stomped in embarrassment. The ladies' eyes turned at the sudden commotion, giggles erupting here and there.
The men's faces flushed crimson as they glared at Dever, but they quickly averted their eyes under his piercing glare.
"My mistake."
"Yes, yes! A mistake, Dever!"
A bright voice cut in.
"Ah, Your Highness."
"Arthur!"
The crowd lit up at the sight of Arthur.
"Please forgive him. The poor guy's been rolling in the dirt until a few days ago."
"N-no need for forgiveness."
Arthur shrugged at Dever. Gone was the haggard morning face; he looked impeccably refreshed.
"How have you been?"
He didn't forget to greet a cluster of ladies gazing at him admiringly.
"See, Dever? Greet them like I do. Don't just stand there all stiff."
Arthur slung an arm over Dever's shoulder.
With Nexus's two most coveted men appearing chummy, the other men's energy visibly deflated.
"How have you been, Arthur?"
"Me? Living the charmed life of a prince. Heard you went to your estate for recovery— how'd you end up here?"
"Ha ha... I'm feeling better."
"Good to hear. I was worried you'd catch some grave illness and die before I reached Wayne."
Arthur grinned while chugging champagne straight from the bottle.
Raphaelle, standing at a distance, frowned at the crude display, but he pretended not to notice. He needed to vent some steam like this to survive.
"Any fun news in Wayne?"
Arthur glanced around for gossip fodder.
"Fun news...?"
One gossipmonger glanced slyly at Dever. Catching it, Arthur slammed the bottle down on the table with a clink.
"Not that cheap gossip."
His voice lowered.
Arthur swept back his tousled blond hair, face scrunched in feigned boredom.
"Something enjoyable. Something to make me laugh."
"W-well, I heard a top orchestra from Britain arrived? Something you've never—"
"Speak."
The gossipmonger's words cut off. Dever had interjected.
A sharp glint flickered in Dever's previously dormant eyes. The man swallowed hard. He'd clearly stepped in something major.
"The fun news you thought of."
"Ah, no, I—"
"Without lies. The first thing that came to mind."
Dever held out the champagne bottle to the pitiful man before him. The short gossipmonger's hands trembled as he took it.
"I don't know what you're thinking, but I was just—"
"Out with it."
The man squeezed his eyes shut. No escaping now that Dever had locked on, so his lips moved on their own.
"R-rumors that you picked up some sleazy woman from the battlefield... Not that I said it! It's just hearsay! You know how meaningless rumors are."
Excuses tumbled out.
Dever nodded vaguely, letting the tedious justifications run their course. Arthur watched Dever with a tense expression.
But contrary to his fears, Dever's face flushed as if he'd heard the juiciest gossip.
"Dever...?"
"Hear that?"
Dever chuckled, pointing at the gossipmonger.
"Back in Wayne after ages, and I hear all sorts."
He looked genuinely amused as he lifted a glass from the table.
Emboldened by his milder-than-expected reaction, the tense men began laughing one by one, falling over themselves to flatter him.
"To Cliff!"
"To Nexus!"
As the night deepened, toasting glasses rose higher, music growing louder.
Everyone tangled like beasts, guzzling liquor, sprawling across the garden in twos and threes.
Dever staggered to his feet. No one supported him as he occasionally toppled.
Until he exited the imperial palace's heavy doors shrouded in darkness, he reeled like a drunkard. Some noble frowned at the sloppy sight.
But the moment he passed the fortress-like golden gates, he slowly straightened his hunched back. His steady stride belied any intoxication.
Dever moved toward his goal with unflinching resolve.