For a noble lady to have her hair cut was one of the severest punishments during confinement.
It was a mark that anyone could see—just stepping outside meant being branded as scandal-ridden.
“I never expected the Grand Duke of Leontheim to take things this far. He must truly love the Duchess.”
“What noble would go to such lengths for his wife?”
It was rare for a husband to fiercely protect his wife like that.
Usually, once matters were somewhat settled, compensation was given and that was the end of it.
In fact, the Grand Duchess of Leontheim handled the noble ladies’ insolence with remarkable skill.
“They were already stirring trouble in the northern cultivation circles. It serves them right.”
“Exactly. They got what they deserved for tormenting those innocent and powerless.”
Because Camilla and her faction’s misdeeds were so severe, no noble dared to shield them.
But everyone now understood—at least the northern nobility had learned a bitter lesson:
Do not provoke the Grand Duchess of Leontheim.
A new unwritten law had been born in the North.
Until just yesterday, Vincent had been in high spirits.
He had confiscated the Yordin clan’s faltering assets to replenish subsidies, and Cedric was unusually diligent in his work.
But the greatest joy came from Mistress Iris.
She was efficient, kind-hearted, attentive to the servants—everything was perfect. The only real problem was his own mistakes.
Yet that soaring feeling lasted only until this morning.
“Master!”
“What is it?”
“Do you really have the right to ask me that now?!”
Vincent slammed down two bundles of letters tied with string onto the desk.
Leaning back in his chair, Cedric glanced at the piles casually, still twirling a quill in the air.
“You should watch your joints at your age.”
“Oh! So the master who cares for this old man’s joints is the one who dumped these—down in the basement!”
“Where else should I throw the trash? That’s where the trash goes.”
Logically, it made sense—
The basement was the trash area, so putting the trash there was natural.
Vincent, however, looked odd for bringing them back out.
The distinguished, self-proclaimed venerable elder of Leontheim, nearing sixty, furrowed his brow in anger.
“So why the hell do you call this trash?!”
Vincent began to unpack the letters one by one, holding them in front of Cedric’s eyes.
If he didn’t do this, his indifferent master wouldn’t bother reading a single one.
“Look! These are invitations! And these are even invitations from the Imperial Court for the Sacred Festival!”
“Yeah. Trash.”
Oh, divine heavens.
If this foolish lamb ever loses control and strikes his master, may lightning strike him down without pain.
Cedric, the man before him, was nothing if not impeccable in handling matters.
Among the many who demanded excellence, Cedric was one of the few Vincent trusted as truly perfect.
Grasping his dizzying head, Vincent softened his tone to coax him.
“Master, Ludwig may be a bastard, but attending the Sacred Festival to show face isn’t a bad thing. That way, Leontheim’s reputation—”
“It’s a pointless drain on emotion. Do you really think the migrating nobles of the capital will look favorably on Leontheim just because of that? Are you serious, Vincent?”
Cedric’s half-smirk was arrogant yet graceful.
Vincent had no comeback. Raise Leontheim’s reputation?
If that were possible, it would have happened long ago.
Humans always crave what they cannot have.
Unlike the dangerous, seductive Ludwig, the rebellious yet elegant Grand Duke of Leontheim held an aura of refined dignity.
When he occasionally showed his face, noble ladies couldn’t hide their blushes.
From Ludwig’s close circle to families with no ties to the Imperial Court,
any lady who caught sight of Cedric tried desperately to establish some connection.
The flood of letters was proof.
Rumors spread by the Court painted him as a playboy.
“He stirs women’s hearts with the same face as my father.”
“Tsk tsk, blood will tell.”
Yet despite the gossip, nobles endlessly coveted Cedric with their eyes.
The reason Cedric hated those letters more was simple—he had no interest in women.
At least think of Mistress Iris.
For Iris, who hailed from the capital, the Sacred Festival held great meaning.
Attending the festival’s banquet would also quell the dirty rumors surrounding the two of them.
That was Vincent’s intent.
Sigh. If she doesn’t want it, fine. I’ll quit.
Seeing Vincent gather the letters to throw away in resignation, Cedric propped his chin on one hand and asked,
“How’s Mistress today?”
“Ah, Master?”
Vincent, who seemed ready to storm out, suddenly smiled brightly and stood up—
still remarkably vigorous for his age.
Somehow stirred by the fervor, Cedric’s eyes narrowed slightly.
Ignoring that, Vincent resumed his praise of his lord, the tireless master who had been bustling since early morning.
“Truly, our Leontheim family is blessed. To think she was already in the study before I even arrived today.”
“Hmm—indeed.”
“No, you shouldn’t respond so nonchalantly! Do you realize what a great honor it is for us to have such a remarkable mistress?”
“I see.”
From his words, Cedric seemed uninterested.
Perhaps our lord knows all too well just how exceptional she is, and that’s why he acts so.
“Master doesn’t realize her fortune,” Vincent muttered, shaking his head and rubbing his temple.
Had he looked more closely, he might have noticed Cedric staring intently at the cultivation calendar today.
‘Enough, enough.’
Better to go support the master more diligently instead of wasting time.
As Vincent sorted through letters with a troubled face, something swiftly passed by. It was Cedric.
“Master? Where are you headed?”
Halfway through the doorway, Cedric glanced back at Vincent, a rare smile breaking his usually expressionless face.
“Didn’t I say she’s a great blessing? I must treasure her well so that fortune does not slip away.”
With that, Cedric slipped through the gap and vanished, eyes narrowed as Vincent watched closely.
“...What on earth was that about?”
“Vincent.”
“Yes!”
Startled, Vincent blinked as Cedric beckoned him silently.
‘What does he want me to do now?’
Though hesitant, Vincent quietly followed. Such is the lot of a mere servant.
At that moment, Iris was also gazing at the cultivation calendar, just like Cedric earlier.
‘The Sacred Festival is soon.’
As Vincent thought, the Sacred Festival was an important event for Iris, born in the capital, but for a slightly different reason.
‘It’s so peaceful during this time.’
Usually, this period marked the busiest days for her, due to the mess Lilliana had carelessly stirred up. Lilliana, daughter of Valentine, had taken over preparations for the Sacred Festival.
‘Lilliana only cared about the surface-level glory.’
She craved praise and flashy attention, but disliked the unseen groundwork necessary for such an event.
‘People like me more than her anyway. Does she hate that I do what I want?’
There were many risks that could have harmed the entire Valentine family.
Iris knew that if she bore all the burdens alone, no one else would be harmed, and everyone could remain happy.
Perhaps the rest of her family knew this too, or at least understood that this way was the easiest.
‘But it didn’t matter.’
A lonely smile flickered on Iris’s lips as her eyes lingered on a certain date on the calendar.
‘The final day of the Sacred Festival is also Lilliana’s birthday.’
The four-day festival ended with a grand celebration of Lilliana’s birthday.
Her family, mindful of her loss of their mother, threw a larger, more splendid party to spare Lilliana from guilt.
Most nobles in the capital knew that the last day of the festival was Lilliana’s birthday.
But that day was also their mother’s death anniversary.
‘When everyone laughs like that, it feels like Mother’s memory is erased.’
Iris would quietly honor her mother alone.
On that day, she secretly placed white flowers beneath her mother’s portrait.
‘Have you ever thought about how Lili must feel, never having met Mother? Is it enough to miss her alone?’
That day was also the first time Iris was struck by her elder brother.
‘But was that truly the reason?’
Though she knew she shouldn’t think so, Iris suspected they deliberately erased their mother to maintain the illusion of a perfect family.
Iris slowly tore her gaze away from the calendar and looked out the window.
What game was the heavens playing? Her own birthday was just around this time too.
Like their mother’s death anniversary, Iris’s birthday had long been ignored by the family.
‘Just think of my birthday as the same as Lili’s. Why must a family draw such strict lines?’
‘Right. Sister can just celebrate with Lili!’
But to Iris’s father, Kaidrich, she was the very cause of his beloved wife’s death.
Therefore, Iris was never welcomed at Lilliana’s splendid birthday parties.
‘Was it yesterday? Or today?’
If it was truly yesterday, then she had missed her birthday without knowing.
After a moment of blankness, she simply smiled.
‘It’s alright.’
No real feeling stirred within her. Hope was a luxury she no longer allowed herself.
Amid these thoughts, what lingered in Iris’s mind was whether Zelda had received the letter she sent.
It must have been difficult for the letter to pierce through the layers of spiritual suppression, but maybe she should write another just in case.
She decided to do so, reaching for paper and quill when there was a soft knock at the door.
Chapter 50