Chapter 19
The Imperial Banquet Hall was decked out for the grand imperial party. On any other day, the nobles would have been fascinated by the rare pink diamonds adorning the venue. But today, their attention was fixed on something else entirely.
“I heard Count Cayente is attending today?”
“With his fiancée, no less.”
“So even he is getting married?”
“Guess he finally found the right one.”
Whispers buzzed among the nobles invited by the Emperor. All anyone could talk about was Cayente, who had returned to the Empire in triumph. Among them were Count Arin and Marquis Ver, both still smarting from their dealings with him, ready to explode at the mere mention of his name.
“What’s all the fuss about that guy from the Duchy?”
“Beats me, Marquis Ver. He might know how to make money, but he’s tossed aside all the decorum expected of a noble.”
Warned by Count Arin to recheck his contract for hidden pitfalls, Marquis Ver had reread the documents—and just as he feared, the numbers didn’t add up. Beyond the land price, Cayente had also claimed a year’s worth of expected profits from the cotton farm based on recent harvest averages. The problem? The past three years had seen a continental drought, not just in the Lucican Empire, and the calculation used precisely those poor yields.
That cotton farm was my life’s work! I hosted feasts and begged my vassals to support it despite their resistance—and he snatched it up for peanuts!
Outraged, Marquis Ver had stormed into the Clu Textile office, shouting that he wanted the contract annulled. He assumed Cayente would agree to renegotiate using a five-year average that included some good harvests—but he was wrong.
“I heard you reviewed the contract again?”
“Of course! I had to see if there were any mistakes. And what do I find? He based the profit projections on three awful harvest years!”
“Then you must’ve also noticed the cancellation penalty clause.”
Cayente, years younger than the marquis, didn’t even rise from his seat. Lounging on the head sofa, he simply recited the exact penalty amount for breach of contract and asked if there was anything else.
“What’s so great about that guy anyway?”
“It’s all about the money. Textile’s booming right now. Everyone wants to get close and learn his secrets.”
They conveniently forgot that their real anger stemmed from losing money—not from any insult to their honor.
“I hear he’s here to expand his business in the Empire.”
“Funny how someone who could buy half the Empire’s land in cash is still so driven.”
“Well, that’s how he got so successful.”
Despite a few dissenters, the admiration in the room was palpable. Personality aside, Cayente’s achievements had surpassed even his father’s, who had once been lauded as a pioneer of the textile industry.
“And apparently, he’s incredibly handsome too?”
“Oh, absolutely. If not for his sudden engagement announcement, we’d have had no high-society weddings this year! Honestly, if I were ten years younger, I’d have married into the Clu family—even if they were in ruins!”
With looks to match his wealth and success, it was hard not to envy him.
“His fiancée’s supposed to attend too, right?”
“So I heard.”
“Didn’t expect him to get married so quickly… I thought he had impossibly high standards. Is Lady Luper that beautiful?”
“Of course. She was even chosen by His Majesty the Emperor, after all.”
Naturally, interest extended to Yulia, the woman by his side. Especially among the ladies, curiosity ran wild about the woman who had captured the heart of Count Clu—the same man who’d turned down the Emperor’s favor. Though she’d made a formal debut, Yulia had attended only a handful of early events and vanished, so many had never seen her.
“There he is—Count Clu.”
“Why is he alone? Wasn’t his fiancée coming with him?”
As soon as Cayente entered the ballroom, he could feel the intense interest directed at him—and the budding curiosity about Yulia. Every person who greeted him tried to prolong the conversation, eyes darting around in hopes of spotting her.
Cayente answered each greeting with a polite smile, but inside, he was seething.
What’s taking so long?
Yulia had said she’d stop by the dressing room to fix something on her gown and hadn’t shown up even as the party began. Cayente was starting to scowl uncontrollably, worried she’d miss the Emperor’s entrance.
I even sent Henry to make sure she wasn’t late—so whose fault is it now?
Had Henry failed to stress the urgency? Was the seamstress refusing to release the gown unless it was perfect? Or worse—was Yulia simply the type who couldn’t manage a basic time commitment?
He reached into his vest to check the time with his pocket watch when—
“Who is that?”
Someone murmured nearby, and the atmosphere instantly shifted. Like a stream flowing into a single channel, the crowd’s attention converged on one point. Cayente followed their gaze—and there she was.
Yulia stood at the ballroom entrance, draped in a deep navy gown.
“Milady, the Count is over there.”
Sometimes, a person didn’t need to do anything special to command attention—just arriving was enough.
“That must be her.”
“So it’s true—the Count does have high standards.”
Yulia’s entrance was exactly that. Among the murmurs and stares, Cayente’s face alone flushed scarlet with rage. Grinding his teeth, he strode over to her in long steps and grabbed her arm.
“Did you pick that dress just to embarrass me?”
“Huh?”
“Henry, what happened? Weren’t you with her when she got dressed?”
“I was. Why? Is something wrong with the dress?”
People were staring at Yulia not just because she was the Count’s fiancée—they were mesmerized by her beauty. But Cayente thought otherwise.
He was certain it was the dress drawing their eyes.
“Is it… weird? My mother said this one looked the prettiest…”
Yulia wore a gown made of soft silk that clung to her body like flowing water. Though lace and decorative layers were added on top, they did little to hide the shape beneath.
Cayente thought it was insane. The one who made it, the one who picked it, the one who let her wear it—but most of all, she herself—were all out of their minds. To wear something that clearly outlined her full chest, narrow waist, and elegant hips—how could she even think that was appropriate?
“How could you wear something this revealing?”
“Revealing? What do you mean?”
“Henry, bring her another dress. Now.”
So she had even added lace over it. But now he was saying this was too revealing?
‘Does he even know what “provocative” means?’
She didn’t know if it was because she had never dressed to impress anyone, or because she genuinely didn’t find it inappropriate, but Yulia truly didn’t understand what part of this outfit Cayente considered so outrageous.
And to suddenly yank her away like that in front of everyone… She was already feeling tense about being in a place where she didn’t know anyone, yet he had to add embarrassment on top of it?
“Wait, wait. Why are you so angry?”
Yulia finally broke the silence, slightly panting as she tried to keep up with his long strides. He had pulled her into one of the side rooms next to the ballroom.
“Do you really not understand what’s wrong with that dress?”
Cayente closed the door behind them and turned to face her.
“You walked into the ballroom in that and didn’t realize how many people were staring?”
“Well… they were looking but…”
“Because they could see everything!”
Yulia’s brows furrowed.
“You’re exaggerating. It’s not like I’m walking around in lingerie. The dress is made of proper fabric, and there are layers of lace!”
“But it clings to your body!”
Cayente let out a frustrated breath and ran a hand through his hair.
“Do you know how many men were staring at you just now? Do you know what kind of expressions they had?”
“…So what if they stared?”
Yulia met his gaze directly.
“They can stare all they want. That’s their problem, not mine. Are you saying I should dress like a nun because someone might look at me wrong?”
“That’s not what I—!”
Cayente stopped himself.
Why was he shouting?
He wasn’t usually this emotional, especially not in an argument. But today, everything felt wrong. Yulia showing up late. The dress. The way everyone looked at her.
“…You could’ve just told me calmly,” Yulia said quietly, her expression hardening a little.
“I did my best to look good. Your mother helped pick this out. I thought it would make you happy.”
Her voice was barely a whisper now.
“I didn’t want to embarrass you. I just… I just wanted to fit in.”
A pang of guilt hit Cayente right in the chest.
He hadn’t considered that—how new this world was for her, how hard she was trying. He had assumed she was being careless, maybe even rebellious.
“…I’m sorry,” he finally said, his voice lower.
“I didn’t mean to yell.”
Yulia looked away, blinking quickly as if trying to suppress something.
“Don’t apologize to me here,” she muttered. “Apologize to me in front of everyone. You humiliated me out there.”
Cayente’s jaw tensed.
“Fine,” he said after a pause. “Let’s go back. But you’re changing first.”
“…Only if you apologize first.”
They stared at each other, the tension still thick—but now laced with a different kind of energy. Then, Cayente let out a defeated sigh and reached for the door.
“Let’s find Henry. He should have brought another dress by now.”
Yulia followed silently, her hand briefly brushing his sleeve.
“…Thank you for worrying, though,” she said softly, almost too quietly for him to hear.
He glanced at her, caught off guard by her words.
And for the first time that evening, he smiled—just a little.
