If they were ordinary people, they would have called this the most successful party ever. Since all ladies judged the success of the party they hosted through public evaluation. However, Lady Steibain, Mollie, was different. Mollie was already a big shot in the social scene standing at the pinnacle of all ladies. Not just a casual chat, but her sneeze was strong enough to blow away the entire social circle.

‘At this rate, I might lose my leading role.’

Mollie had no intention of losing her place as the reigning queen of the social scene. However, it was also impossible for the official event attended by the Prince and Lady to be taken away by others.

‘I need to find the right balance.’

The right balance that would make her stand out, and the sensationalism of the two people, ensuring the success of the party. She needed time to think.

Mollie, with a slightly tired expression, casually spoke to Edna.

“By the way, Gael has returned. Have you met Gael?”
She expressed that she wanted to be alone. Edna, the wife of Viscount Calypso, was not completely unaware, and she smiled slightly, tilting her head.

“No, it’s okay. I’d like to talk to Sir Gael. May I vacate my seat?”

“Of course. The rose garden with blooming summer roses is very beautiful. It would be nice to stroll together.”

“Wow, Lady Steibain’s rose garden is famous. Is this party taking place there? I’m not sure if I can take a look first.”

When Edna grinned and matched her mood, Mollie’s nose went a bit higher.

“Of course. You’re none other than Lady Edna.”

Edna, who said she expected Mollie leaning on her shoulders, stood up from her seat. Guided by a maid, she headed towards where Gael was.

Mollie sipped on her newly brewed tea, lost in thought.

‘If I suppress Windsor too much, the public will not see the Lady sympathetically. But if I suppress the Prince, he is a royal, even if he rots, in the end, he’s still a royal.’

Moreover, Mollie’s husband, Viscount Steibain, was one of the few neutral parties. Mollie and Gael had tried to persuade him several times to join the royalist faction, but Viscount Steibain didn’t budge.

‘Phew, being famous is such a headache.’

As Mollie was lightly massaging her throbbing temples, the maid came in.

“Madam, a letter has arrived.”

“Huh? A letter? Who’s it from?”

If it wasn’t a letter from someone important, it would have been left to rot in one corner of Mollie’s desk. Mollie accepted the letter with some expectation. However, the moment she saw the sender, Mollie was overwhelmed with swirling thoughts.

The next day.

Benjamin, preparing to go out, asked Mitchell.

“Still no contact?”

“I apologize.”

Mitchell, holding an overcoat, replied gloomily. Benjamin made a low groaning sound and looked beyond the terrace. There was a silhouette moving just as bustling as Yuriecen. It wasn’t Yuriecen; it must be Daisy.

While looking at that figure, Benjamin, wearing his overcoat, muttered in a low voice.

“He said he would stop by the Copador Guild headquarters to sleep and then come over here, but the contact was cut off immediately.”

Right now, the two were discussing Ivan.

“It’s worrying if something has happened. Send a dispatch to check it out.”

“Yes, understood.”

“And if…”

Benjamin interrupted his words for a moment, then continued with a face that didn’t feel like it.

“If something happened to Ivan, don’t bother asking me; take action yourself.”

“What?”

Benjamin checked his face once again in the mirror. If he were a person with normal aesthetics, he would think he looked good enough to pass with a blink. However, he always wondered if he looked okay now in front of Yuriecen.

‘I’ve never thought I looked ugly.’

[Note: The translation aims to convey the meaning accurately while maintaining readability in English. Some expressions may be adjusted for idiomatic flow.] Being with Yuriecen feels like I’m inevitably turning into marine life. Tsk, as Benjamin licked his lips, he shook his head. Then, as if notifying Mitchell before leaving, he said, “Act as you wish.”

Thud.

Benjamin closed the door. Mitchell, sitting alone in the supervisor’s room, stared at the closed door for a moment and then turned his head. Like Benjamin, he glanced at his face in the mirror.

No matter how young she may look, she was over thirty. It wasn’t much different from Urgen’s age.

‘Ivan… was he the same age as the Lady?’

Mitchell, who had been absentmindedly looking at his face, shook his head briefly and checked the scattered documents on the desk. The door was still closed.