91. Two Scandals

2023.12.30.

Yuan Pelliese barely regained her composure and dipped both hands into the washbasin water brought by Trin.

Trin, knowing that Yuan had spent the night at Bollonico’s palace, had become noticeably more respectful than before.

Yuan was so on edge that even Trin’s behavior felt irritating. Her stress had reached its peak.

“Um, Your Grace.”

Trin, about to remove the washbasin, paused briefly and called out to Yuan.

Yuan, standing by the window and gazing at the garden tea table Trin had set up early that morning, flinched slightly at the cautious voice and turned her head.

Trin abruptly approached and pulled a letter from her robe.

She stretched both arms outward with all her might, awkwardly presenting it with both hands in an overly formal gesture.

On the plump, freckled wrist of the middle-aged woman who handled household chores, a thin gold bracelet was worn.

Yuan, thinking she had never seen that bracelet before, watched Trin hand over the letter and quickly disappear, then kept her eyes fixed until Trin had completely closed the door and left before opening the letter.

As Yuan read through the letter, irritation surfaced on her face.

The sender and its contents were precisely what tightened her already frayed nerves even further.

Yuan tossed the letter into the remaining embers in the fireplace.

Not satisfied, she used the poker hanging in the corner of the fireplace to scrape and push in every last corner of the paper that had peeked out.

The same crimson hue that turned red-hot before turning into black ash flickered briefly in Yuan’s eyes and then vanished.

It was a letter from her uncle.

It ranted furiously about her staying with Bollonico without consulting him.

Her uncle seemed well aware that while there might have been a chance to extract Yuan from the discarded Crown Prince, it would be difficult to do so from a prince who had already surrendered his seal.

Suddenly, laughter burst out.

How could that damn letter keep coming without tiring?

She found herself ridiculous for ever thinking that her uncle, who had even sent letters to the barren Roxenhardt, wouldn’t somehow manage to slip such a letter into the palace.

Yuan stood clenching her teeth until the letter turned completely to ash, then calmed herself briefly and began to carefully sort through in her mind everything she had seen in Bollonico’s secret bookshelf.

Upon reflection, she vaguely recalled having seen some of the books with missing numbers among the Pelliese collection—books that had been selectively categorized.

For example, volume two of , volume one of , and the lower volume of —all of which had gaps.

Thinking more clearly now, she realized that those books filled with Noel’s traces were not all authored by Pelliese.

Recalling several of the missing books, Yuan looked down at the crumpled envelope in her hand, waiting its turn to be burned.

“A letter. Yes, a letter…”

It was at that moment Regina Pelliese’s collection of letters from her elder sister Louise came to mind.

If it were Louise, she would have told Yuan everything without hiding anything—what she had done, what she had discovered.

Yuan didn’t know exactly how those books Bollonico had hidden so carefully were connected to Louise, but they were clearly linked. Perhaps even to Noel Euphris.

Yuan lifted her now completely cooled head and straightened her back.

Slowly approaching the window again, she looked outside and saw Noel glancing around nervously before placing a newspaper on the tea table for her and quickly darting away.

A bitter laugh escaped Yuan.

After rejecting him and going to Bollonico, it was clear he was still upset.

Especially since he had no idea what she had discovered in Bollonico’s bedroom.

Under these circumstances, there was no way she could immediately extract the truth from Noel.

Yuan threw the crumpled envelope in her hand into the fireplace as well.

Just as she would never tell Noel the real reason she had come to this palace.

And perhaps Noel, too, would never tell her the reason he was staying in this villa, why his books filled Bollonico’s palace, or why he had studied the Pelliese family so diligently.

Once again, Yuan had little time.

But Yuan Pelliese possessed a will unafraid of death and a firm determination to uncover and punish Clade Euphris’s enemy as quickly as possible.

Whether it was the task Bollonico would assign her or the books Noel had apparently lent to his older brother.

If neither of Empress Marilyn’s two sons were in a position to inform her about these matters, then she had no choice but to find out for herself.

Yuan’s sharp nose turned toward the direction of Bollonico’s palace.

Perhaps, if she were just a little more daring, she could boldly obtain those missing books.

At last, a faint smile, like rising mist, appeared on Yuan’s pale face, which had been distorted by stress.

***

At the very moment Yuan was silently resolving toward Bollonico’s palace with eyes as sharp as a newly forged blade.

Marquis Companni burst into Bollonico’s bedroom.

“Your Highness! Your Highness!”

He pulled out a couple of gossip magazines from his robe, seemingly having concealed them desperately, and placed them beside Bollonico’s head, who was sleeping like an infant angel.

[From fiancée to married woman—An in-depth exploration of Crown Prince Bollonico’s charm] [Love and war in the Imperial Family—Why is Crown Prince Bollonico always the victor?]

Bollonico’s highly idealized portrait was drawn as large as a poster, resembling the cover of a theatrical actor’s photo collection.

Beside it were silhouettes of a man presumed to be Clade and a woman presumed to be Yuan, with provocative captions densely written above.

“What is this? Marquis Companni?”

“This is no time to be sleeping!”

Unlike the excited marquis, Bollonico slowly stretched his arms with unusual lightness, as if lighter than any other day.

His body still ached, but the pain was far less than usual—thanks to Yuan Pelliese.

Bollonico remembered Yuan reluctantly following him last night at his subtle gesture, and himself leaning in to kiss her.

Though the woman’s face, faintly smiling as she accepted him, was the last thing he remembered clearly, considering the painkillers and sedatives he had consumed before Yuan arrived, it was understandable.

Even if he couldn’t clearly recall it, the fact that he had taken her didn’t change.

Bollonico’s eyes, initially scanning the gossip magazines with irritation, soon sparkled brightly.

“There’s an even better portrait. You really have a sense of flair.”

Tsking his tongue, Bollonico then fully awakened and read each rumor in the magazine one by one.

“It’s not just the gossip magazines, Your Highness. The newspapers are in an uproar, claiming the Crown Princess Dowager followed you here, so there’s no reason for her to remain convalescing in the palace.”

“Don’t make such a fuss, Marquis Companni. I expected it to get noisy, which is why I asked Mother to take care of the Crown Princess Dowager. After all, newspapers are just newspapers.”

In any case, the articles would be written exactly as Bollonico wished, only as imaginative as possible.

But what Bollonico truly cared about wasn’t the newspapers—it was the gossip magazines.

Those sensational tales, cloaked in anonymity, mixing provocative portraits and fabricated stories like romantic novels.

For instance, the Crown Princess Dowager abandoned her monstrous husband and followed Bollonico Euphris to the palace because of his doll-like beauty and admirable character.

She lavished devotion upon Bollonico, and people often saw her emerging from Bollonico’s bedroom each day—so the eyewitness accounts went.

“This is a crucial time. Aren’t you concerned about damaging your image?”

“Image? If that were the case, Bollonico’s father should’ve already been dethroned.”

“Your Highness…!”

At such near-treasonous words, Marquis Companni’s sunken eyes widened as if about to pop out. Bollonico sneered.

“Am I wrong? The people who matter aren’t those who read gossip magazines, spread rumors, and chatter away with wild imaginations. They should remember Bollonico as a man so captivating that he can crush Clade Euphris without blinking an eye and erase the late Emperor’s relics entirely from people’s memories. Whether it’s the nobles of this nation or His Majesty the Emperor.”

Seeing Companni startled and lowering his voice further, Bollonico snorted.

“Father may pretend to be innocent and feign affection for Clade Euphris now, but wasn’t it Father who ultimately turned that monster into a monster? Father can never be a merciful great-uncle—not even in pretense. He said he couldn’t openly kill him with so many eyes watching, but playing with him was fine. You should tell those fools still expecting something from Clade Euphris that he can’t even keep hold of his own woman. And Father should be shown that Igor Euphris’s son defeats Alexei Euphris’s son every time.”

“But Your Highness—”

Marquis Companni showed Bollonico the newspaper he had been carrying under his arm.

“The front page of the newspaper is exactly what you envisioned—it’s even milder than the gossip magazines. What exactly are you worried about…?”

Bollonico’s hand froze mid-gesture.

For a moment, it seemed as if only his time had stopped.

Frantically, Bollonico unfolded every other newspaper Companni had brought and examined their front pages. In an instant, the once-glorious bedding was now covered in even more dazzling front pages.

Unlike the gossip magazines, the article Bollonico had secretly contributed did not appear on the front page at the size he had wanted.

The scandalous article about him and the Crown Princess Dowager had been pushed to the bottom of the front page.

At the top, the main feature was about someone else.

“The Crown Prince is coming to the palace soon.”

Companni reported this, lowering his voice to an extreme whisper, as if this had been the real point all along.

Bollonico’s bloodshot eyes turned to the largest portrait on the front page—the childhood portrait of Clade Euphris.

That detestable face reminded him of the days when defeat was routine.

“The Crown Prince has suddenly declared he will inherit the title of Count of Roxenhardt.”

“…”

Bollonico snatched the last remaining newspaper and unfolded it.

It was confirmed.

Crown Prince Clade Euphris had officially completed the procedures to inherit the title of Count of Roxenhardt, which he had indefinitely postponed and entrusted to Marquis Rev, and by the Emperor’s order, a grand investiture ceremony would be held at the palace.