Chapter 70
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Translator: Wjin
Chapter: 70
Chapter Title: The Emperor's Invitation
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Rozanne couldn't comprehend the situation unfolding right in front of her.
She had been peeking from behind a pillar at the mysterious glow of the ring when suddenly a commotion erupted in the hall.
Wondering what was going on, she turned around... and gasped as she came face-to-face with a man as dark as jet.
It wasn't just because she was in the presence of His Imperial Majesty the Emperor.
Up close, the Emperor was more beautiful than any man she had ever met.
Jet-black hair contrasting with his pale face. A solidly trained physique. Deep blue eyes. Even the dark, brooding shadows under his eyes only accentuated his allure.
Rozanne was certain of it.
No portrait could ever fully capture this man's beauty.
Then, as she gazed at the hand he extended toward her, she pondered his intent.
It seemed like he wanted something from her—but what?
Soon, the answer came, and with it, the entire sequence of events leading to this moment flashed clearly in her mind.
There was only one thing the Emperor could want from her.
Rozanne raised her hand, the red ring glinting on her finger. A torrent of overwhelming emotions surged through her, making her body tremble.
With a soft touch, her hand rested atop his black-gloved one.
The man's jewel-like blue eyes widened slightly.
The hall was so hushed that a nearby whisper carried clearly.
"Hey, what in the world is going on?"
"No idea. His Majesty suddenly appeared and asked that young lady to dance."
Rozanne flashed a confident smile radiant with self-assurance.
Philomel stared in shock at the scene.
When Justis extended his hand, Rozanne didn't give him the ring—instead, she placed her own hand in his.
For a moment, Philomel wondered if she'd slapped Rozanne's cheek too hard, sending shockwaves to her brain and driving her mad.
"His Majesty suddenly appeared and asked that young lady to dance."
Overhearing the murmurs around her, Philomel realized their misunderstanding.
Indeed, a waltz was in full swing in the hall, with pairs of men and women dancing.
When he burst in and offered his hand to a woman, it could only be interpreted as a dance invitation.
The shocking event sparked growing murmurs throughout the room.
"His Majesty? No way."
"No, he definitely did. I saw it with my own eyes."
"But His Majesty never dances."
"Not since Her late Majesty the Empress passed."
"Has that young lady caught his eye?"
"Does His Majesty finally have spring in his life...?"
"Will the seat beside the sun finally be filled?"
Misunderstandings bred more misunderstandings.
Before long, people were whispering about Rozanne as if she were the next Empress.
In ordinary circumstances, even a genuine dance invitation from the Emperor to an unmarried lady wouldn't cause this much stir.
But he was Justis—the devoted husband who danced only with his wife.
After her death, he hadn't danced at all. So it was no wonder the invitation carried such weight.
And the person most thrilled by the escalating rumors was, naturally, Rozanne herself.
Gripping the Emperor's hand tightly, she tried to lead him to the center of the hall.
"My humble dancing skills are lacking, but I shall serve Your Majesty with all my best!"
It wasn't just Rozanne.
A middle-aged man with red hair leaped forward. Judging by his resemblance to her, he was Viscount Manon.
"Your Majesty! I am Viscount Manon. I've only just arrived in the capital. My daughter is full of shortcomings, but I beg you to look after her kindly."
Viscount Manon even pushed at the Emperor's back, urging him to dance—as if the thought of becoming the Emperor's father-in-law had made him fearless.
'What a mess.'
Philomel began inching backward stealthily.
Considering the Emperor's temperament, a storm of blood could erupt at any moment.
'Better escape before I get caught in the crossfire.'
Philomel headed toward the entrance she had come through.
At that moment, Justis—who had stood like a statue until then—finally moved.
He shook off Rozanne's hand and strode purposefully toward Philomel.
"Your Majesty, where are you going?"
"His Majesty the Emperor!"
Rozanne and Viscount Manon called out desperately, but he didn't even glance back.
At the entrance, he spoke.
"Philomel, just one question. Is she your friend by any chance?"
It took Philomel half a beat to realize he meant Rozanne.
"I swear on my life, no!"
She'd rather live friendless forever than have a friend like that.
"Good. Forget all about the Ring of Crimson Flame."
As Philomel looked at him puzzled, Justis removed the glove he was wearing and tossed it aside.
"It's soiled now. I'll have a new one made. And Polan."
"Yes."
Count Polan, who had appeared out of nowhere behind him, responded.
"Manon, was it? Dig into them. Bring me everything you find—no exceptions for family or relatives."
"Understood."
"How amusing."
His sinister smile had nothing to do with amusement.
Philomel offered her silent condolences to Viscount Manon and his entire clan in advance.
A few days passed.
Philomel went through her morning routine, sipping coffee as she unfolded the newspaper. Today's main topic was the same as ever.
Who is Rozanne Manon, the Emperor's Lady?
Exclusive! Interview with an Insider from the Manon Viscount Family.
From the Princess's Return to This Good News—Double Joy for the Imperial Family.
Viscount Manon: Too Early to Discuss a State Marriage...
Newspapers across the Empire were churning out articles daily about the Emperor's new love story.
The day after the ball, only a few papers cautiously mentioned eyewitness accounts of the Emperor asking a certain young lady to dance.
But with no response from the palace, the stories multiplied, and now they were pouring out without restraint.
With so little real information, most articles were pure fiction.
The Emperor, lost in grief, one day spots an enchanting young lady.
Having watched her throughout her debut season, His Majesty finally musters the courage on the final night of the ball to ask her to dance.
And so on.
Philomel read the articles with a heavy heart.
Jeremiah, seated across from her, cleared his throat awkwardly.
"Don't take it too hard. He can't mourn his dead wife forever, right? I know it's complicated for you, but that's life."
Tower Master Rguin chimed in.
"Exactly. Phil's just disgusted after all these years realizing her dad's a shameless creep who sees girls half his age as women."
"That's not it either."
Philomel walked over to the window and gazed outside.
She never could have imagined that a single ring slipping from her hand would cause all this.
'Whatever. Let it be.'
But it was no longer any of her concern.
'The Emperor told me to forget about the ring, so I can just let it go.'
One silver lining: with everyone fixated on the Emperor's new lover, all the gossip about Philomel had vanished.