The first to open fire was Lady Martina of the Duchy.

“It’s summer, after all. Citrus, especially lemons, are in season. Yet, there’s not a single lemon in the tea or the desserts.”

It was an attempt to portray Blanche as a clueless host, unaware of seasonal trends. Since it’s a long-standing tradition to favor citrus in summer, she couldn’t escape criticism by invoking tradition like before.

“Ah, those darn lemons.”

However, the response came not from Blanche but from Argon, the young Duke, seated at a back table.

Clutching his small hand tightly, he blurted out in anger.

“Just because it’s summer doesn’t mean they taste good. Everyone acts as if lemons are the world’s tastiest fruit in summer – what, can’t live without those stupid fruits?!”

Lady Martina, who had complained about the absence of lemons, didn’t particularly crave them; she was just looking for a pretext to criticize Blanche. But why such a fierce reaction?

“W-What did you say about being stupid─”

That’s when Blanche spoke up, interrupting Lady Martina, who seemed about to burst out in response.

“I’ve heard about the young Duke of Argon.”

Argon, looking venomous, glared at Blanche.

“That you can’t eat lemons.”

Ah. Someone gasped quietly. Now that they thought about it, they rarely saw Argon at summer gatherings.

“That’s why, I purposefully excluded lemons.”

If that was the case, it made sense. Mixing lemon slices in tea or using lemon for flavoring could lead to accidental consumption.

“Lady Martina. No matter how delightful a food is, it loses its essence if we can’t share it, doesn’t it?”

Lady Martina, who merely complained about the absence of lemons, was now portrayed as someone selfish, unconcerned whether others had allergies or not.

“And you too, young Duke Argon.”

Argon, who had been scowling, unconsciously straightened his posture, reminiscent of one taken in front of a manners teacher.

“You must maintain your dignity.”

“I-I was just trying to help─”

“You shouldn’t say such things to a lady.”

Argon criticized lemons, not people. But within Blanche’s cunning words, he was suddenly portrayed as a brute who hurled insults at a young girl.

“I-I mean…”

“It’s not me you should be apologizing to.”

Neither had mentioned apologizing, but Blanche preemptively silenced them with her tactics.

“Your apologies should be directed at each other.”

Reluctantly, the two glanced at each other, aware of the attention focused on them, and offered half-hearted apologies.

“……I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to get angry at you.”

“……And I didn’t mean to disrespect you.”

They apologized, considering their families’ standings and public perception. Had they needed to apologize to Blanche, they certainly wouldn’t have.

But effectively, the staged scene was one where they humbly conceded, guided by Blanche’s counsel. Especially to the children, who couldn’t grasp the complexity of the situation, it seemed as if the two nobles were meekly reprimanded by Blanche.

“Thank you all for today.”

At the host’s closing announcement, the children began to leave in small groups. Normally, at this point, guests would exchange pleasantries about the enjoyable party, but none of that occurred.

The attendees, being young children, were too overwhelmed to say anything.

It was a disaster that happened because the attendees were children. After Lady Martina and Duke Argon’s incident, there were about 13 more futile attempts by the guests to confront Blanche.
The child who tried to flaunt wealth through expensive jewelry was criticized for sloppy attire, while another who found fault with the fabric of Blanche’s dress ended up receiving a historical lecture on the advantages and disadvantages of various fabrics and why those fabrics dominated a particular era.

Thus, why the fabric Blanche chose was optimal for this tea party and why the fabric chosen by the other child was a poor choice was an added explanation.

Had the guests been adults, they would have realized after three failed attacks that Blanche was not an easy target and would have stayed silent.

However, the children here, being no older than seven years, couldn’t let go of hope even after witnessing others get rebuked, leading to this disaster.

Melchisedek, watching the children leave in tears, didn’t stand up, merely fiddling with the teacup in front of him.

After all the other children left, Blanche signaled to Tula to dismiss everyone. Once they were alone, Blanche spoke up.

“Do you have something to say?”

Melchisedek, lifting his gaze from the teacup, grinned cheekily.

“Yeah.”

“Yeah?” Blanche’s eyebrows twitched briefly, an impossible gesture in her original body, but a young child’s face isn’t adept at hiding expressions.

“……You called for me.”

Despite the brief display of discontent, Melchisedek remained relaxed, likely having seen it.

“Say, ‘Your Highness, you’ve done an excellent job today.'”

Blanche doubted her ears for a moment. Did he really say that?

“That’s difficult.”