Iris’s daily life was filled only with administrative duties—so mundane and dry that even if she tried to speak of them, no one would care to listen.
“It’s really not something Your Grace needs to worry about,” she said softly, slipping out of the chamber before Cedric could stop her.
‘I can’t keep my expression under control…’
If she looked at his gentle face for even a moment longer, she’d end up blurting out how upset she truly felt.
Cedric stood frozen, staring blankly at her retreating figure. Had he gone too far this time? Was he finally hated for real?
He turned to Vincent for an answer—but Vincent only looked at him with a mocking smirk.
“This is why I told you to behave wisely, my lord.”
“What are you talking about?”
“You know exactly what I mean. It’s karmic retribution—karma from your academy days!”
You’ve no idea how much I suffered back then!
Grumbling, Vincent too disappeared down the corridor in pursuit of Iris.
Watching them go, Cedric’s mind raced.
He couldn’t recall doing much to earn her resentment—aside from maybe being a bit lazy here and there.
“Ah… damn it.”
It hit him then.
That infuriating horde of noble daughters who used to follow him around relentlessly.
He collapsed into his chair, groaning at the memory of himself, arrogantly brushing them off with a teacup in hand like some dandy.
This, it seemed, was his greatest tribulation yet—a tribulation brought not by sword or war, but by the weight of his own past inattentiveness.
The Grand Consort of Leontheim had issued a formal invitation—to the very noble daughters who had once been turned away at the gate.
What is she planning?
After that disgraceful incident, their names had become the subject of whispered mockery across the Northern social sphere.
This is our chance. The only reason we were shamed last time was because we never even got to face her directly.
Determined not to lose face again, the noble daughters arrived clad in the finest silks and accessories they had reserved for only the most important occasions.
Each piece they wore was a symbol of the latest fashion, imported from the northern regions at extravagant cost.
“Everyone looks simply radiant today.”
“Indeed. Her Grace had better be dressed appropriately to receive guests of our caliber.”
Seeing each other so finely adorned, their confidence soared.
They recalled the stunning beauty of Iris from before—but that had been a wedding. A bride was supposed to shine on her wedding day.
No matter how she appears this time, she won’t outshine us.
They deliberately averted their eyes from the vivid memory of Iris’s noble grace and instead focused on the interior of the Grand Duke’s stronghold.
Tapestries were arranged with refined symmetry. Ornaments of impeccable craftsmanship gleamed from every corner.
“Was the Grand Duke’s manor… always like this? I don’t remember it being this refined.”
“It’s definitely changed—dramatically.”
As they wandered through the grand halls, their expressions slowly stiffened.
They had assumed the Grand Consort was merely a beautiful face. But this fortress bore the mark of her meticulous oversight—each detail exuding power, elegance, and perfect order.
No matter how carefully they looked, they couldn’t find a single flaw. Not one trace of incompetence.
One of the noble daughters, her pride wounded, sneered.
“So you only bothered to manage
this
place because you knew we were coming?”
“She was supposed to be some insignificant woman, but I guess she can do
something.
Still, what's the point if all she’s good for is playing house?”
The most ridiculed among them—Lady Luchen, who had been publicly shamed for her rudeness toward the Grand Duchess—spoke with thinly veiled jealousy.
“What matters most is whether she's truly worthy of the Grand Duke’s household.”
“Exactly. Even with that face, she was a complete nobody in the capital’s social scene.”
But even as they insulted her, unease crept in. Perhaps it was the memory of being denied entrance to the estate last time.
“The rumors from the capital better be true.”
Led into the inner greenhouse, they waited anxiously for Iris.
“My Lady, the guests have arrived,” a maid announced.
And at last, Iris Valentaine, Grand Duchess of the North, entered the greenhouse.
Her soft lavender hair, shimmering with hints of silver, fluttered in the breeze. Her ivory-white skin was radiant, even by the capital’s high standards. A high, rounded forehead and a delicately shaped nose gave her a noble, serene air.
But it was her eyes that captivated.
“…I didn’t notice before from afar.”
Nestled beneath thick, long lashes were eyes like twin orbs of crystal-clear spirit spring water—so pure they looked as though no impurity had ever touched them.
She approached with the calm poise befitting the mistress of a Grand Duke’s sect estate.
The noble ladies found themselves staring—at her straight, unbowed shoulders, the elegant curve of her slender neck.
Even her smallest gestures—each step, each glance—radiated cultivated grace.
“Welcome. As the mistress of this residence, I greet you.”
Snapped out of their daze, the noble daughters glanced at each other, stunned.
“She’s supposed to be the lesser second daughter of Valentaine?”
“Is that really the same woman from the rumors?”
They had come adorned with the latest fashions—elaborate necklaces and trendsetting lace corsages atop their hair.
Yet they couldn’t shake the feeling that they’d already lost… to Iris, dressed in a plain navy gown, wearing nothing but a single diamond necklace.
“This tea was prepared for you. I hope you enjoy its fragrance.”
Iris sat gracefully and offered the tea with noble courtesy.
“Well, looking at
you,
I’m not sure I’ll be able to enjoy it.”
Luchen couldn’t accept Iris’s flawless cultivation as a noblewoman.
“You’re from the capital, and yet you don’t even know how to properly host your guests. Shouldn’t
you,
at the very least, have made some effort to dress appropriately?”
“…It seems there’s a misunderstanding,” Iris replied calmly.
Her sky-blue eyes landed gently on their garish outfits.
“In daytime tea gatherings, etiquette dictates that excessive adornment is considered improper.”
That clear, measured gaze made Luchen’s lips tremble.
“T-This isn’t excessive at all! I guess you don’t bother to dress even this much, Grand Duchess?”
“This has nothing to do with how Lady Balbadia usually dresses,” Iris said, eyes briefly flicking to the lace corsage pinned proudly in Luchen’s hair. She tilted her head, as if puzzled.
“That lace corsage wasn’t designed for tea gatherings in the first place.”
“W-What did you say?”
All eyes turned to Luchen’s corsage.
“Corsages for tea parties are crafted with layered lace designs. I suppose it’s easy to be mistaken in the North.”
Suddenly, the piece Luchen had worn so proudly felt like a mark of shame.
Embarrassed, she yanked it from her hair and hid it behind her back.
Iris smiled ever so gracefully.
“Plain white lace corsages like that are typically used… for funerals.”
To distinguish the two, tea corsages were made with extra layers or alternative materials.
“Though frankly, most choose entirely different corsages out of courtesy.”
The truth was, Iris was no stranger to the world of social cultivation and appearance.
“I don’t have a mother, so my big sister is my mother. I love her.”
She had always been the one preparing Liliana to shine brightest in the noble realm.
*“If everyone’s not staring at me, I’ll tell Father! I
will!”
Even when she couldn’t attend events herself, she meticulously handled her sister’s presentation.
So her voice now—calm, precise, instructive—wasn’t arrogance. It was the tone of a seasoned cultivator correcting a junior disciple’s mistakes.
But that gentleness only stoked Luchen’s rage.
“T-That’s not—!”
She shot to her feet, ready to argue—
And met Iris’s serene sky-blue eyes.
“—possible… to not know that.”
Her voice faltered.
“Was there something unclear?” Iris asked softly.
Though Camilla had claimed she was a Grand Duchess in name only, the truth was different.
Iris had been officially recognized by the Emperor himself.
Unable to speak, Luchen sat back down, awkwardly hiding the corsage behind her.
“I believe… everything’s been made clear,” she murmured.
Iris watched her, then calmly called for the servants.
“Let us proceed with the tea, as planned.”
The Leontheim estate attendants moved with practiced grace, unfazed by the earlier disturbance.
Even here, in a simple tea gathering, the changes Iris had brought to the duchy were undeniable.
“So she really reformed Leontheim herself…”
“Then she’s nothing like the rumors say.”
The noble daughters, who had come intent on mocking her, now sat in stunned silence, overwhelmed by the refined elegance that pervaded every detail of Iris’s tea ceremony.
Naturally, for Luchen—who had just been humiliated moments ago—the situation felt entirely different.
“How dare she treat me this way? There's no doubt about it—she wanted to disgrace me in front of everyone!”
By now, Luchen had conveniently forgotten all the rudeness she herself had shown Iris on multiple occasions.
A maid quietly stepped forward and began pouring tea beside her.
“The tea is still quite hot, my lady. I recommend enjoying it slowly, along with the confections.”
“Hot, is it?”
Luchen’s eyes gleamed coldly, like a viper spotting prey.
“You’re telling
me
to drink this scalding tea?”
“N-No, I didn’t mean—”
“Then you’re saying your mistress told you to serve boiling-hot tea to her honored guests?”
It was a baseless accusation, but the maid, hearing Luchen invoke her mistress, dared not argue back. A careless response might end up harming the new lady she served.
“I-I apologize, my lady. I will bring you a cooled cup immediately.”
As the maid bowed low in apology, Luchen, now emboldened, lifted her hand sharply.
“What kind of education have you received, to treat a guest in such a disrespectful manner—!”
Just as her hand was about to strike the defenseless maid—
Clatter.
The table shook violently, jolting her movement off course. Instead of striking the maid’s cheek, her arm brushed the tea table where the hot cup sat.
Crash!
Her sweeping sleeve caught the delicate teacup, shattering it and splashing scalding tea across the table.
“Ah! Hot!”
A few drops landed on her hand. Luchen hissed and clutched her reddened skin, face twisted in pain.
“Who did that?!”
She turned, eyes brimming with fury, only to meet the calm, icy gaze of Iris—seated in silence just across from her.
Luchen hadn’t seen what happened—but the other noble daughters had.
“Did she… actually do that?”
All Iris had done was gently set down her teacup, and yet the ripple of her motion had traveled across the table, knocking Luchen’s off balance with perfect precision.
At first, the movement had been so graceful they thought nothing of it. But they had seen it with their own eyes.
“That… was deliberate. She did it.”
There was no other explanation. All the other tables were perfectly stable. Only Luchen’s had reacted.
The more unexpected strength they glimpsed from the Grand Consort—whom they had dismissed—the more a chilling realization sank in.
“The Grand Consort Iris… may be far more formidable than we ever imagined.”
Her sky-blue eyes bore into Luchen with frosty clarity.
“The maid belongs to House Leontheim. You have no right to mistreat someone under this roof.”
Pressed down by Iris’s cold, commanding presence, Luchen—though seething—couldn’t raise her voice.
“S-she’s just a lowborn servant…”
“She is
mine
.”
Iris’s voice was firm, unwavering.
“Lady Valbadia, what you just attempted was to strike someone who belongs to
me
.”
In that moment, she wasn’t just Iris. She was the
Grand Consort of Leontheim
, one who bore the name—and the sacred duty—of guarding the legacy of her House.
“I do not tolerate harm brought to those under my wing—
no matter who the offender may be
. Not even if it were the Heavenly Emperor himself.”
“……”
“Now tell me, Lady Valbadia. Do you understand what it is you just tried to do?”
The air around Iris had turned sharp, cold—a pressure not unlike that of a sword cultivator unsheathing their blade.
The noble daughters had only ever seen Iris as refined and gentle. But now, that serene grace had transformed into something steely, commanding.
Luchen, who had moments ago been ready to lash out, shrank back with a weak excuse.
“I… I was formally invited here as your guest, Grand Consort.”
“And it was
I
who granted you that right. Do not forget it.”
Silence fell like a sheet of ice across the room.
The noble daughters, stunned by Iris’s overwhelming presence, sat frozen. But the servants—those who had stood by the walls in silence—stared at her as though spellbound.
“Her lady’s people…”
What kind of mistress spoke of her servants like that?
The maid in question wasn’t even one of Iris’s closest confidantes. She was just a common servant. And yet, Iris had called her
her person
—with pride and conviction.
“She’s always thought of all of us like that…”
Most nobles, in a situation like this, would have abandoned their servant without hesitation. It was the easy thing to do.
But Iris had protected her. Faced down nobles to defend a maid.
The servants' eyes shimmered with admiration.
“Lady Iris… truly is extraordinary.”
They had always known she was competent.
But to handle highborn nobles with this level of poise—
especially in the notoriously cutthroat northern social circles
—required more than mere capability.
It required courage, clarity, and authority.
And Iris had shown all three, with the bearing of a seasoned matron of the cultivation world’s highest courts.
Luchen could do nothing in retaliation—after all, the Grand Consort had laid no hand on her. She had simply… placed a teacup.
Chapter 45