Whether she was glad or not, there was only one possible reply I could give.

“Yes, I’m glad. Your Majesty the Empress.”

I couldn’t show displeasure in front of the other noblewomen. Bertisha responded to my words with a bright smile and invited me to sit beside her.

Having no choice but to accept, I sat down next to her and paused to think.

Just now, something about Bertisha’s words had felt oddly off.

‘Why does it seem like Bertisha doesn’t actually like me?’

The way she had looked at me while speaking of our days as a trio resembled someone gazing at a misplaced stone.

It might have been an overinterpretation, but it also felt as if she blamed me for distancing herself from him.

It was a thought I’d had before, even when Bertisha had sent letters one-sidedly to Yezar—was she truly unaware of his feelings?

Or perhaps she had deliberately ignored that affection, kept him close, and conveniently used his emotions for her own comfort. But when that lingering affection, which seemed destined to continue even after marriage, suddenly poured toward an unknown woman, was that why she had come to meet me now? Thought followed thought in an endless spiral.

‘My head is a mess. I wish I were just overthinking this.’

In the original story, Bertisha was the kind and wise female lead. Whenever an incident occurred, she used her brilliant mind to resolve it satisfyingly and cleanly, treating even those of lower status with equality and without prejudice.

Charming, intelligent, and gentle, readers loved the female lead just as much as the male leads. I had been one of those readers who adored her.

So I didn’t want to be disappointed.

Instead of meeting Bertisha’s gaze, which still hadn’t left me, I turned my head to the side.

I hadn’t properly greeted the Marchioness Yekert, the official hostess of this tea gathering.

Fortunately, she appeared content, basking in the praises of the noblewomen, so she didn’t seem upset.

Soon, the marchioness noticed my gaze and turned toward me.

“I’m sorry for the late greeting. Thank you for inviting me to this tea gathering, Marchioness Yekert.”

As I expressed my gratitude, the corners of her lips lifted.

“Oh, not at all. To be honest, I didn’t expect you to come, since the Duchess was visiting elsewhere first. But you’ve come all the way here and even thanked me personally—it truly lifts my spirits.”

So she knew after all—that I had first attended the tea gathering of the Marchioness Stemun, with whom I had a strained relationship.

Still, she didn’t seem intent on saying more. Having just received lavish praise from the noblewomen, she appeared magnanimous.

Besides, she couldn’t very well display poor taste in front of the Empress of the Empire, who claimed she wanted to meet me.

For someone who had entered so timidly, Marchioness Yekert wasn’t proving too difficult an opponent. The truly daunting one was Bertisha sitting beside me.

“Your Grace is truly unlike me. Your hair, flaming as if it might burn, and your fresh green eyes—your upturned eyes give such a dignified impression.”

“Do you think so?”

Even I had to admit, Bertisha and I seemed like complete opposites. Not just in appearance, but in nature—unlike the soft-spoken and graceful Bertisha, I was the energetic type, always bustling about.

“Yes, you’re so different from me. Could that be why the Duke of Ferhaem was drawn to you?”

The words were whispered—so quiet that one would have to lean in to hear. Why would she say Yezar was attracted to me precisely because I was her opposite? It didn’t sound like a compliment.

“You know, Your Grace, if I’m curious about love stories before marriage, is that too selfish?”

At that, the noblewomen’s eyes lit up with interest, turning toward us. In an instant, all attention centered on me.

I couldn’t understand why everyone was so curious about someone else’s love life. They must’ve already seen it splashed across the front page of the newspapers.

“Oh, not at all. Stories from before marriage are so trivial—I was worried they might not be interesting to hear. To be honest, it’s rather embarrassing, but the Duke and I once went on a secret date and ended up in the newspaper… We often dated like that before marriage. But perhaps our bold actions up until now, thinking we wouldn’t get caught, were the problem.”

As I spoke bashfully, Marchioness Yekert chimed in.

“So it was true what was written in the paper. Well, if you met outside in ordinary clothes, someone was bound to find out. Still, you boldly enjoyed your dates mingling among commoners.”

I had expected her to stay quiet, but it seemed her unpleasant tendencies were beginning to show. With flushed cheeks, I replied in a dreamy voice.

“It was the Duke’s idea—he didn’t want me being talked about needlessly. At first, I was flustered, but now I find it delightful. The Duke is, after all, extremely skilled with the sword. I’ve never felt afraid.”

At that, the previously quiet noblewomen burst into enthusiastic reactions.

“As expected of the number one bachelor in the Empire.”

“To think he’d consider his wife so early on. How thoughtful.”

“The Ferhaem Dukedom is famous for swordsmanship. How reliable his broad shoulders must be. I wouldn’t feel afraid either.”

Bringing up Yezar brought a great response. There might have been subtle complaints mixed in about their own indifferent husbands, but the atmosphere was warm and cheerful.

Even Marchioness Yekert, under this momentum, refrained from saying more. It seemed Yezar was immensely popular among the noblewomen.

‘Yezar, I’m riding on your reputation. I’ll make sure to thank you when I get home.’

Smiling as I thought of him, who wasn’t here, a fleeting memory surfaced—his promise to come pick me up. Oblivious to what lay ahead, I had happily agreed to come out at the right time.

But Bertisha was here now. Yezar, who had struggled even receiving her letters, would soon see her face.

My mind snapped awake. This was an emergency.

‘What should I do? I’ve only just arrived. I can’t just storm out.’

Cold sweat began to trickle down involuntarily, and one noblewoman noticed my odd state and expressed concern.

“Your Grace, are you alright? You don’t look well.”

“Oh, no, I’m fine. That couldn’t be.”

I forced a smile, but I felt like I was sitting on hot coals. More than anything, I was anxious about Yezar.

“If you’re feeling unwell, would you like to step out for some air with me?”

It would’ve been nice if someone else had made that suggestion. But it was Bertisha offering it to me. As I tried politely to refuse, other noblewomen stepped in to support her.

“We’re fine here. You should go enjoy the breeze with Her Majesty the Empress.”

“That’s right. A bit of fresh air will make you feel better.”

No, I’ll feel worse! The very person who caused my distress wants to go out with me. There was no way I’d feel better.

“The ladies are right. Let’s go, Your Grace.”

Pushed insistently, I could hardly refuse. Like a cornered mouse, I meekly replied.

“Yes, Your Majesty the Empress.”

Power was indeed tyranny.

I entered the room the servant had guided me to and felt the breeze coming in through the window. We had said we’d go out for air, yet Bertisha had suggested we rest in another room instead, saying walking might tire me.

As a result, Bertisha and I were alone in the room. Alone in a room with my husband’s first love. What kind of situation was this?

“Are you feeling a bit better now?”

Her voice was exceedingly gentle, yet I felt as if I had thorns stuck in my throat.

“Thanks to you. I’m grateful. I should head back now.”

Returning to where the noblewomen gathered seemed far more comforting. As I tried to stand, she held me back.

“Just a moment. Actually, there’s something I’d like to say to you, Your Grace.”

So that’s why she had insisted on going to a room alone. She had something to say that required privacy, away from the others.

“I don’t really know you at all, so I’m not sure why Her Majesty the Empress would want to speak with me.”

“But you’re his wife, even if you don’t know me. I have something I’d like to ask you about Yezar. You probably already know, but we were childhood friends. We were very close.”

A sigh escaped me involuntarily. Even if Bertisha, who knew Yezar well, suspected our marriage, I was still Yezar’s wife.

This situation was like a wife listening to another woman talk about how close she had been with her husband—especially when that woman was her husband’s first love.

“I did hear, but Yezar only mentioned you very briefly. He said you were just old friends. I didn’t realize you two had remained close all this time.”

It had been quite some time since Yezar had last replied to Bertisha’s letters. She might have felt hurt by his one-sided distancing, but it was still rude of her to come to me, his wife, and inquire about him while emphasizing their closeness.

And sharp as she was, Bertisha couldn’t possibly be unaware of this. She surely knew exactly how I would feel.