Chapter 241

The Crown Prince’s summons spread through the empire at once.

At first, the imperial family’s declaration of war against Maindulante to this year’s academy graduates sounded almost laughable. Few of them bore Nerys pure goodwill, even though she was the most successful of their classmates. War? Unfortunate, sure—but the imperial family and the Grand Duchy were never going to be equals anyway.

Barring unavoidable circumstances, everyone poured into the capital. And, except for a handful, they enlisted in name only, without knowing much of anything.

They were only “nominally” enlisted because no one was sent to the front immediately.

The Military Affairs Department, forced to dispatch reinforcements to the Tipian Marquesate on short notice, was drowning in work. The declaration of war had come down in the blink of an eye, and then noble children rushed to enlist all at once. In practice, those precious new soldiers were left to idle around the capital with no clear orders or restrictions.

As a result, high society in the capital overflowed with young people like never before.

Their parents were sick with worry, but the youths themselves soon began treating this strange situation as a new opportunity. There was no way they felt no fear, but living together in a setting not so different from school diluted the dread of war.

Besides, many had already been preparing for their debut in the capital, and they threw themselves into society with enthusiasm.

“Mother! Where are my new gloves? The white ones!”

“Father, I need money to repair the carriage. I broke it yesterday messing around.”

Watching their children chatter as if they were still students, the parents mourned and felt relieved at the same time. Yes, they were at the best age. If the war ended quickly and the children never had to see a battlefield, wouldn’t this be the perfect chance to debut in the spotlight?

This year’s graduates had already had their “debut” at the graduation ball, but that was only a school event. To be recognized by capital high society, they needed a proper coming-out ceremony—something impressive.

And so, as though the dark clouds over the front were a lie, high society bloomed into dazzling gatherings of youth.

❖ ❖ ❖

In a garden filled with summer roses, Yuna Bertold—an academy graduate of this year—finished reciting her poem.

Applause followed, moderately enthusiastic. Yuna’s face warmed with shy delight. Her eyes stayed fixed on one attendee who had listened to her recitation.

Heath, her academy classmate, stared blankly out the window. Yuna, who had gained confidence after both graduating and successfully dieting, felt her chest tighten at the indifference of the boy she had loved all her life.

She gave up her seat for the next reciter, yet even as she sat beside her friends, she kept stealing glances at Heath. She knew exactly when his once bright, straightforward personality had changed.

When Aidalia Kendall—the girl Heath had loved all his life—died.

The class had never liked Aidalia. In their second year, hadn’t she stolen an exam paper and tried to pin it on Nerys, only to end up blaming Megara instead? No one wanted anything to do with a thief, and in the end, Aidalia transferred to the theology department as if fleeing.

At least, that was what everyone believed.

‘Who knows? Who lied.’

Recently, the truth came out that Megara Lykandros—who had ruled among her classmates like a queen—did not have the status to bear that surname in the first place. Aidalia, barely noticed even in death, began drawing sympathy once Megara’s truth was exposed.

Either way, who could trust a child whose very birth was a lie? If she could lie about that, what else wouldn’t she lie about? And yet she had dared to become the Crown Prince’s mistress, then flaunt herself even before real nobles.

Heath had liked Aidalia since childhood, but he had hidden it because Megara disliked him speaking to her. Still, Yuna had watched him all this time. She knew he had always been looking—quietly, secretly—at Aidalia.

‘He can’t forget her…’

Sitting on the carved wooden sofa, Yuna lowered her head.

After several rounds of recitations, the guests broke into smaller groups and began talking more intimately. A discussion about classical poetry schools had just gathered momentum when the drawing room doors opened.

“I’m so sorry I’m late. His Highness simply wouldn’t let me go.”

Megara entered, her voice soft as a spring breeze. Every gaze in the room snapped to her. Yuna jolted.

It had been half a year since Yuna last saw Megara. After winter break, Megara had taken leave to become engaged to Colin, and she had never returned.

On the surface, she looked much the same. Her flawless beauty remained, and her clothes were as lavish as ever. But something—something impossible to pin down—had changed.

Something that made Yuna wonder, on a fundamental level, how she had ever believed that girl’s words so naively.

Not only Yuna and Heath, but many of their classmates were present in the salon. All of them had once tried to trade words with Megara. And all of them, to varying degrees, felt the same shock Yuna did.

Megara turned the smile once praised as angelic on her classmates. The salon host spoke to her with an ambiguous expression.

“Please, don’t worry about being late, Lady Megara. Come, have a seat.”

Everyone could tell the host wasn’t pleased, but he didn’t want a public scene. He meant to gloss over it—something he never would have shown back when Megara was the most celebrated young lady in high society.

Megara, however, smiled with open arrogance, as if she were used to it. Yuna was startled again by the rudeness—an attitude that could only come from faith in the Crown Prince’s favor and authority.

‘She seems… less refined than before.’

That vague realization dawned on the quicker children all at once. It wasn’t only because they now knew her true identity. Something else was making Megara repulsive in a way she hadn’t been before.

The real problem was her smile—too deliberate, too confident—and the dark wariness in her eyes that seemed to say, ‘I’ll tell the Crown Prince whenever I want.’

If this had been their first meeting, perhaps they could have ignored that dissonance. Or at least, if they had only ever been distant acquaintances.

But they weren’t.

They had the shameful past of wanting Megara’s favor, of following her words for far too long.

Now that shame curdled into anger—and a desperate urge to bury it. Yuna felt duped, thoroughly and deliberately, by that lowly child.

Because Heath’s table had fewer people than the others, Megara was guided there. She sat and greeted them as though nothing had changed.

“Hello, everyone. Long time no see. How have you been?”

The table was entirely academy classmates, yet no one answered. They simply stared at Megara for a moment, strange and unmoved.

In high society, someone of higher standing spoke first.

But how dare a mistress open her mouth like this? And in such a friendly tone?

Megara read the mood instantly. Her face drained, humiliation tightening her expression.

In high society, she was still treated with outward politeness—because her father remained a great nobleman, and because Abelus favored her openly. Even nobles far higher than the youths in this room did not publicly humiliate her. And these very classmates—hadn’t they once clung to her at school, desperate for her attention?

Silence warped the air. The children collectively turned their eyes away, treating Megara as though she weren’t there.

After a moment, Heath spoke, his face dark.

“Have you visited Marquis Kendall?”

He wasn’t looking at Megara, but everyone knew who he meant. Megara answered with a twisted smile.

“No. It’s been a long time since I’ve seen him. I have no reason or right to visit him, do I? Why do you ask?”

“Shouldn’t you apologize to him?”

“For what?”

“For framing his daughter and bullying her.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Heath. Are you saying I should apologize because you all hated Dali?”

Some who didn’t know the details frowned in confusion. Those who did widened their eyes. Heath’s expression contorted.

“…You’re still lying…”

“You’re talking nonsense. Lying? You all know what Dali did. Ah—come to think of it, you liked Dali, didn’t you, Heath? Yet when she suffered so badly she fled to the theology department, you never took her side. So what—are you going to apologize to Marquis Kendall now? Do you want me to go with you?”

Heath was so furious he couldn’t speak. Megara’s smile stayed gentle, but her eyes were colder than ice.

“What a pity. I don’t even know if the Marquis is receiving visitors. If you’d like, I can ask His Highness the Crown Prince to arrange a meeting. You may be dispatched soon anyway. You should do everything you want to do before that happens.”

A threat: mind your manners, unless you want the battlefield.

The air grew colder.

Then—

“Putting on a show, just like before?”

Alecto’s scathing voice cut through the room.

Every eye in the drawing room swung toward her. The salon host’s stomach sank. Had he chosen the wrong day? The atmosphere was already ruined—

Megara turned a terrifying smile on Alecto at the neighboring table and asked, sweet as ever.

“A show? What do you mean, Alecto?”

“You were always like that at school. Whenever something looked inconvenient for you, you acted like someone else was at fault, like you were too kind—too generous—to do everyone favors.”

It was the first time in Megara’s life she’d been hit with such raw contempt. Even Natasha’s condemnation at the last party hadn’t pierced her like this. At least then, it hadn’t come from someone who had spent years catering to Megara’s every whim.

Megara tucked her hands away, hiding their sudden trembling. Alecto wore a sneer that looked almost natural, as if she’d been waiting her whole life to do this.

“But there’s one difference now. Even your act has gotten sloppy. Is it because you live with something lowly that you’ve started to stink like that?”

The remark was vulgar—and it landed.

A low chuckle rippled through the icy air. Megara gasped.

“Why aren’t you answering? You’re smart, aren’t you? Or are you thinking up a new way to look pitiful in front of His Highness the Crown Prince?”

Another chuckle. The salon host all but despaired. Would the Crown Prince issue a harsh order tonight, demanding to know why his beloved mistress had been publicly humiliated?

Alecto rose, smug, and as she left the drawing room, she tossed one last line over her shoulder.

“Ah, I can’t stand the smell. That’s right—go tell His Highness the Crown Prince. If you do, maybe our family will support a few more soldiers. We’re not overflowing with money, but if you ask, I can’t exactly refuse to make an effort.”

Only then did those forcing back their laughter understand what Alecto was leaning on.

Wasn’t military force exactly what the Crown Prince was desperate to secure right now? If Megara wanted to remain favored, she wouldn’t dare push the Crown Prince into conflict with other nobles over a petty pride fight with someone her age—not in this situation.

Then there was no reason to hold back.

Children from families with manpower to spare, or ties to the military, rose one after another after Alecto. Especially the ones who hadn’t “enlisted without knowing anything”—the ones who knew just how dire the Crown Prince’s shortage of soldiers truly was—did not hesitate.

The salon host decided it would be best not to invite Megara again for a while.

(T/N : Why did it feel soooo satisfying even without Nerys in the picture. )