Chapter 69 : The Plan

Alexius led Britani to her dressing room. It was common for young ladies at the ball to take breaks from dancing to fix their makeup or clothing.

“Are you feeling a bit better now?”

“…Yes, thank you, brother.”

Throughout the walk here, and even now, she seemed somewhat dazed. Seeing her like this stirred a mix of complicated emotions within Alexius.

Damn it, if that’s how she’s going to be, it would have been better to send someone to remove Isabelle.

That thought alone made Britani’s earlier actions all the more baffling.

To attempt an assassination in such a public place? No, calling it an assassination is too much. It was more like an outright disturbance. What on earth was she thinking?

Even as he scolded her internally, seeing her like this also stirred a twinge of sympathy.

Had this child really been pushed to such an emotional brink? As her older brother, he should have been more careful in watching over her…

Regrets arrived late, as they often do.

Perhaps that was why he cast a sharp glance at one of the attendants waiting in the room.

“Go and bring a cup of warm tea. Add a bit of honey and lavender to it.”

Since she was young, Britani had enjoyed honey in her tea. It wasn’t a great remedy, but it was better than nothing.

Not long after, the servant returned with a cup and a small silver teapot. Alexius skillfully poured the tea and handed it to Britani.

“Drink this first. I told them to add honey and lavender.”

“B-Britani?”

“Y-Yes… thank you.”

Britani’s fingers trembled as she reached for the cup.

Knowing this, he deliberately filled it only halfway.

Faint sipping sounds could be heard, and gradually Britani’s trembling eased.

“Let’s start with today’s incident—”

Before he could even begin to comfort her, the door suddenly burst open.

Bang!

Few had the audacity to barge into a royal princess’s dressing room like this. Fortunately… no, unfortunately, the person who came was indeed someone with that authority.

“Do you have any sense, or are you completely brainless?”

Contrat stormed in, his eyebrows furrowed deeply. Behind him, the king’s direct servants and knights moved busily.

Alexius stepped forward to face Contrat’s heavy stride.

“Father.”

“You’re just as much of a problem. What on earth is going on? Could it be that you approved that idiotic stunt?”

Contrat’s voice was a low growl, like a beast about to pounce if the answer was yes. The young man suddenly felt his throat dry up.

“No, that’s not true. I think there’s been some misunderstanding—”

“Misunderstanding? Damn misunderstanding. Do you think I’m the only one who saw that idiot walking around with a knife? That’s why my men are running around trying to kill the bastard! And you say misunderstanding? Explain it properly right now!”

It was obvious why the king’s own men were rushing about.

Cover-up — as always. Those disguised as servants and knights would intimidate, bribe, and silence the witnesses.

Their true identities? No one knew.

Not even themselves, and probably not even Isabelle, who was constantly targeted. But within the palace, these people had a name.

“Faceless Ones.”

Or as Contrat called them, his hunting dogs.

They were the enforcers who handled all the dirty, unspeakable business beyond the Stauffen House, even for the royal family.

Rumor had it that they were the ones who “forced High Priest Francis to kill himself.”

“F-Father, wait, Britani is a bit—”

“You, out! How long do you intend to keep hiding under your sister’s shadow? Explain this immediately!”

Contrat roughly pushed Alexius aside and faced Britani. Naturally, her fingers trembled again.

“I-I’m sorry… I didn’t mean to—”

“Do you know what you did? You stabbed your own brother with a knife in front of all the nobles! Are you really sane? You’re trying to disgrace me!”

His voice thundered like lightning.

Britani, who usually feared Contrat, was now emotionally cornered.

Suddenly—

She dropped the cup she was holding. The hot tea spilled onto the floor, spreading over the cold marble.

It was hot.

A burning pain surged through her fingers. But more painful than that was the cold, merciless gaze of her father.

It was terrifying in the truest sense.

“…Britani!”

Alexius rushed over in alarm, but her response was weak.

…Of course.

The cup had been steaming moments ago. Her fingers were now flushed red and beginning to swell.

“…I’m sorry…”

But she could only mutter this quietly. She couldn’t meet Contrat’s gaze and kept staring at the floor.

…Like a broken doll.

The fear of her father standing before her was far worse than the burn itself.

Alexius bit his lip without realizing it.

“Someone! Bring cold water immediately, and summon the royal physician at once!”

Contrat furrowed his brows again, watching the situation carefully.

“Are you seriously pretending now?”

“Father—”

No matter that she was his blood, he was an unforgiving old man.

His daughter had suffered burns right before his eyes, and yet he called it an act?

“How dare you raise your voice?!”

“Isn’t this too harsh? Do you really think this child is in a condition to behave like this?”

Alexius’ passionate plea made Contrat flinch for a moment.

At that moment, the royal physician arrived and began examining Britani. Even then, she kept her head bowed.

“It’s a minor burn. Please try to remain calm.”

The physician spoke as he stepped back, but the bigger issue was her mental state. Alexius wanted to mention this but was distracted by his father.

It was lucky she wasn’t suffering from shock.

“Father, Britani’s condition isn’t improving. I will look after her properly, so maybe it’s best if you return for now?”

“Come here, Britani. Lift your head and show me your face.”

The tone was gentler, just barely.

Britani seemed to sense it and slowly raised her head to meet her father’s gaze, flinching reflexively at the same time.

Contrat sighed beside her.

“Hoo… Your face isn’t looking well. Rest for a while.”

He was indirectly telling her not to attend the ball.

Missing such an important occasion was almost like a death sentence for her.

Despair took over Britani’s expression.

“F-Father, but—”

“No, it’s not punishment. Consider it a temporary reprieve. If you get better, you can join the festivities anytime. But—”

Don’t overdo it.

He couldn’t bring himself to say it outright.

…Yes, it’s not easy to say.

Contrat felt a subtle emotion at the scene, but it was fleeting. He pushed it aside and obediently turned his back.

“Anyway, that’s enough for now. But never let something like this happen again. Understand?”

He issued the stern warning but quietly instructed one of his aides on the way out.

“Send her some good medicine. Something that’s good for burns and mental stability.”

Contrat felt an unfamiliar sting of helplessness.

***

Back at the lavish ballroom.

Noble ladies mingled freely, enjoying their places. Though it appeared glamorous and beautiful, it was far from simple.

“Did you hear the rumor? It seems Lady Lamelli secretly had a child.”

“Oh my! Is that true, milady? I heard she’s getting engaged next month.”

“Haha, I expanded my business this time, you know.”

“Oh, that’s quite the interesting story.”

“Nice to meet you, Lady Lushuf. Your dress really suits you. Simple and fitting your image.”

“Hoho, simple, you say? It was custom-made by a tailor from the Empire. Depends on one’s perspective, I suppose.”

Political intrigue, business alliances and rivalries, jealousy and envy, gossip meant to tarnish reputations, tense power struggles.

Though they pretended not to care on the surface, everyone here shared one simple goal.

To appear better than the others.

With so many such people gathered in one place, some kind of conflict was inevitable.

Glenn, too, moved actively as Isabelle’s escort.

His first action was to dance with the other young ladies.

“Ladies, it’s good to see you again here.”

Though it sounded awkward, Glenn usually didn’t speak like this. He often used a more sharp, distinctive tone, but not now.

He had been repeatedly corrected by Isabelle over the past few days.

“If you talk like that, the other ladies will all hate you. Let me be your tutor.”

Thanks to that, he was much improved, but the words still felt a bit formal. Still, he had no choice. This was ultimately the first step in improving the image of the Lepent family and the Lion Knights.

“Y-Yes, h-hello, Prince.”

“Your dance earlier was really impressive. Quite surprising.”

Amelia Belmore and Tessa Lindelway.

Fortunately, after having a private conversation earlier in the side room, much of the awkwardness had faded.

“Then, may I have the honor of asking for a dance?”

“Of course, start with Amelia here first.”

Like a protective mother, Tessa graciously yielded her turn, and Amelia reflexively clung to her side.

Thankfully, she stopped quickly.

“I-I’m sorry.”

“There’s nothing to be sorry for. Shall we dance, my lady?”

From the very first meeting, Amelia had acted like this.

She avoided eye contact and always blushed. Glenn asked if she was uncomfortable, but she firmly denied it.

She said she was just a little nervous.

“…It’s an honor, sir.”

He accepted her dance request as politely as possible, and the two moved to the center to dance to the music.

Once the dance started, Amelia followed his lead quite well. Their gazes met naturally too.

Just as it seemed to be going well—

“Hm?”

His gaze drifted to a woman far across the room. Meeting her eyes over another man’s shoulder.

The look was sharp and disdainful.

A smile played at her lips, reminiscent of their first meeting.

Slightly confused, Glenn furrowed his brows.

Then, as if amused, she gave a teasing wink.

…Is she trying to provoke me?

His eyes shifted again to Isabelle’s dance partner.

“Edmund von Crempski… was it?”

Edmund was the official heir of the Crempski family, one of the top members of the Arian Imperial Senate. Recently, his aging father retired, and Edmund formally took over the position.

He was clearly the man Isabelle had mentioned before.

Probably deep in his act — that was the plan.

Honestly, whether it would succeed or not was still uncertain.

She said to just trust and follow her…

Again, his gaze met Isabelle’s.

She shot another disdainful look and this time, mischievously winked.

…What on earth is she doing?

Glenn’s growing suspicion deepened.