“It was a delightful time, Princess.”
A sharp gaze and a cold expression accompanied the man’s bow. He was the heir to the Crempski Marquisate—the true leader among the Imperial Senate’s influential families—or rather, now the official Marquis himself.
Edmund von Crempski.
He still looked young to be called a Marquis.
“E-excuse me… Marquis? What do you think of what I said…?”
Her cautious tone, awkward gestures—and eyes that looked somewhat nervous.
Right now, Isabelle was giving off a very different impression than usual.
“That’s right… Honestly, wouldn’t it be hard to believe what I just said?”
Edmund’s sharp eyes narrowed instantly.
So, still suspicious. No easy way out here.
Isabelle wanted to click her tongue in frustration, but she couldn’t do that in front of this man.
“That’s true. But this is really my sincere truth. Could you give me a chance to prove it?”
“…Proof? You’re making quite a heavy claim.”
“Please, just once. Even if it’s only dinner tonight? I can explain everything then.”
She reached out naturally and clasped Edmund’s hands with both of hers. But he quickly pulled his hands away and replied.
Judging from his expression, he wasn’t particularly flustered.
…That bastard.
“Hmm, very well. I suppose I can at least listen… We’ll talk later then.”
“Y-yes, please.”
She maintained a pitiful expression to the very end.
People like that might even have eyes on the back of their heads.
“Sigh—”
As the Marquis disappeared into the crowd, Isabelle let out a deep breath. She had expected this, but he was no easy person to deal with.
“This is going to be troublesome.”
With that thought, she stepped forward through the knights gathered beneath the glittering chandeliers.
Clack—clack—
Her footsteps echoed cheerfully.
Every time she moved, the ballroom floor shimmered with reflected light. All eyes turned toward her, and a low murmur spread softly through the air.
Countless men were surely considering asking her to dance.
But honestly, they were all unimpressive, and she wasn’t interested. Besides, she really had no time for that.
She moved a little further, and her target came into view.
A burly man surrounded by several women.
“Well, Count de Nerbourg, isn’t it?”
Pretending to meet by chance, and with genuine delight.
She put on a familiar mask again.
This time, a rather intense one.
“I was just saying—hmm? Princess Isabelle?”
“I hope you’ve been well. I believe we met once at my father’s birthday…”
She kept her expression steady, shooting sharp looks at the young men nearby.
“Ah, pardon me. Young gentlemen, may I join you briefly?”
This is my prey, go play somewhere else.
“Ex-excuse me.”
“W-we’ll take our leave first, Count.”
No one in this ballroom dared to oppose Isabelle. If she wanted something, whether guest or not, they would have to give way.
“Ha ha, what an honor.”
A voice full of excitement. Short hair, muscular build, and a somewhat sleazy middle-aged man.
Raoul de Nerbourg, Count of Vernay.
One of the few leaders of the neutral faction in Ariane. Also, he was the ‘Wyvern’ who was ‘hunted’ twice.
“Well, to think the ‘Flower of the Kingdom’ would come meet me personally. Ha ha!”
“…Of course, a count who is always devoted to the country.”
His overemphasis on ‘Flower of the Kingdom’ made Isabelle feel a brief flash of irritation.
This tipsy old man was notorious for declaring that he would someday claim the ‘Flower of the Kingdom’ for himself.
“Oh, such kind words. Is it true that beautiful words only come from beautiful lips? Ha ha!”
For a knight, he was surprisingly articulate.
It made sense—he was famous for his many romantic conquests. His vanity and pride were unmatched.
Honestly, she wouldn’t want to be close to him if not for work. But what choice did she have? She was on duty now.
“Well, your compliments are skillful. I’m delighted… but—how long do you intend to keep me waiting?”
He spread open a fan to cover his mouth and gave a slight smile. At the same time, Raoul’s eyes softened a bit.
That was his intention, but honestly, it wasn’t a pleasant feeling.
“Hmm? Oh! That was my mistake. Having been in the provinces for so long—ah, ahem! So then… shall we dance, lady?”
His gaze grew even sleazier.
Though slightly annoying, she didn’t show it. Instead, she simply smiled perfectly without hesitation.
“Of course, sir. Please take care of me.”
***
As the dance began, Isabelle gradually steered the conversation toward her real purpose.
“Count, have you perhaps met Prince Glenn?”
Her expression was as bleak and pitiful as possible—yes, like a tragic heroine.
“Hmm? Ah, of course, I saw him when he arrived earlier. But why do you ask?”
Count de Nerbourg narrowed his eyes slightly.
He seemed uncomfortable that she was bringing up another man during their dance.
“Do you… have any impressions of him? Rumors, perhaps?”
“That’s right—as you know, news from the provinces rarely reaches the center. Would you share what you know, Princess?”
“Prince Glenn? He’s… a bit scary—no, it’s nothing. He’s a good person, yes.”
She stammered a bit to sound natural.
Then, she glanced down slightly.
Raoul responded immediately.
“Scary? Wasn’t he your partner when you entered? That’s a surprising reaction.”
He paused the dance slightly and his tone grew heavier. Isabelle inwardly felt she had succeeded.
“Ah… that’s because, honestly, I only became the prince’s partner under my father’s orders… It wasn’t really my choice.”
“What do you mean… So you were forced to partner with him?”
“Not here. Let’s talk after the dance, if that’s alright.”
“…Very well.”
Raoul’s face stiffened. He sensed something was off.
Honor, pride, knighthood—and a woman.
All things Count de Nerbourg found unbearable.
Isabelle’s subtle seduction was exactly his type.
***
When the dance ended, they sat down at a table to talk privately.
Her father wanted an alliance with the Republic of Lepent. So he had ordered her to act as a messenger to Prince Glenn.
But Glenn was very eccentric and had a domineering personality.
Because of that, being his partner was no easy matter.
“My father will probably want to marry me to Prince Glenn.”
“What… That’s not your wish, Princess!”
His face flushed noticeably.
Count de Nerbourg was someone anyone would ask for help in such a situation. Especially when the opponent was the ‘Flower of the Kingdom’ herself. That went without saying.
“I can’t allow it… I am a princess of Ariane.”
Judging by his response, the situation had reached a critical point. So, as she had previously discussed with Glenn, she subtly activated blood magic to send a signal.
There were many people here, but if there were another blood mage present, they might understand.
“…Hmm? No response.”
But no reply came.
What was going on? They had agreed he would signal immediately upon receiving.
“This is truly too much. It’s so unreasonable!”
“Y-yeah…”
She answered awkwardly, quickly scanning the ballroom.
And then she spotted Glenn—
“…With a woman?”
He was surrounded by young ladies.
…Has he lost his mind, distracted by women?
Is he even thinking clearly?
Could it be that he was planning to ask for a dance?
But earlier, she had confirmed he was dancing with Amelia.
And just now, she saw him dancing with Tessa.
That meant Glenn didn’t need to dance anymore.
“Tch.”
Suddenly, irritation flared up within Isabelle.
She didn’t know why—just seeing Glenn like that annoyed her.
“Is that so, Princess?”
“Oh, I just had something to think about… Just a moment.”
She wasn’t flustered. She folded her fan and tapped twice on her back.
A secret signal only Sasha knew.
Shortly after, a maid who had appeared from somewhere approached swiftly.
“Princess—just a moment…”
“Hm? What is it, Sasha? Excuse me for a moment, Count.”
Without caring whether the count was surprised, Isabelle headed toward Sasha. Sasha acted as if she was delivering bad news.
Though she said nothing—
Isabelle’s face showed a troubled expression.
“Ah… Count, what do we do? Prince Glenn is looking for me again… He’s very jealous, and it’s a bit scary.”
“What? What nonsense is that? That damned scoundrel—no, are you saying Prince Glenn is treating the Princess badly?”
“…No, that’s not it. If I say more here, it will only make things worse for you, Count.”
“Isabelle is the Princess of Ariane! No one from Lepent’s scum can treat her badly!”
Raoul’s voice rose sharply. For a moment, Isabelle’s eyes narrowed slightly.
Why was this man suddenly shouting?
She was already annoyed enough to want to die.
“Shh! Your voice is too loud. I can’t help it—I have my own position to maintain.”
“But this isn’t right. I, Raoul de Nerbourg—the knight and a man—cannot overlook this!”
Isabelle’s desire to argue further began to fade. She didn’t have time for this old man now.
“…Anyway, thank you for listening, Count.”
“J-just a moment, Princess. I’m sure I can help.”
“No, I don’t want to make things worse for you, Count… Maybe I was just hoping for a white horse prince. Well then, goodbye.”
White Horse Prince.
She pronounced that phrase very clearly, as if daring him to hear.
It would be the phrase to drive Raoul completely mad.
She quickly bowed and moved on.
“Your Highness!”
From his reaction, he would surely act as she expected. Then the count would no longer be her concern.
Isabelle set a stiff expression and walked toward where Glenn was. Quiet-footed Sasha quickly followed.
“…Are you angry? Did the count do something wrong?”
“Sasha, since when has he been like that?”
Despite Sasha’s cautious question, Isabelle’s gaze fixed on the red-haired man.
Of course, full of irritation.
“Well… not long. After parting from Tessa, he was immediately surrounded by other young ladies.”
“Tch, men never learn.”
Inside her heart, an indescribable emotion was burning.