“Tea from the Moor Empire and dessert from the Gallico Kingdom. They’re incredibly delicious. They’re my favorites. Please try them.”

Isabella, with a finger full of elaborate tea food filled with sugar, offered to Madam Clemenza. However, Madam Clemenza declined Isabella’s offer with a friendly but professional attitude.

“Thank you, your grace, but I have to touch a lot of cloth today. I can’t eat anything that would get oil on my fingers.”

Isabella was angry with the person who rejected her favor, but she swallowed the irritation that hung on her forehead and smiled brightly because she was an important person.

“Oh, is that so? I don’t really like tea food either. Let’s start with the fabrics.”

Flipping her own words as if nothing had happened, Isabella threw the tea food on the plate and began looking at the catalogs and fabric samples that Madam Clemenza had brought.

The fabrics that Madam Clemenza presented were mostly dark colors. To welcome autumn, the young ladies of San Carlo mostly ordered dresses in calm tones of blue, burgundy, and mustard.

But among them, there was nothing that caught Isabella’s eye. Isabella, who was quickly flipping through the fabric, stopped her hand and threw a question at Madam Clemenza.

“Do you have any brighter fabrics? Like white or cream?”

Madam Clemenza, surprised by the unexpected request, gestured to her assistant to bring a fabric sample patch that had been pushed back.

It was a fabric that she thought would not be used today and had put it on the bottom. Before presenting the fabric, she reconfirmed the client’s will.

“I hope you don’t mind me asking, Miss De Mare.”

“Yes?”

“Aren’t you making a dress for your younger sister’s debutante ball? Would it be alright to choose a white dress?”

At the debutante ball, it was a matter of manners for everyone else, except the debutante and her partner, to avoid white.

Isabella, of course, wore a white dress at her own debutante ball last year.

And she had poured all the curses on those whose dress color was even slightly brighter on the day, saying they were impolite, lack of common sense, and badhearted.

However, Isabella was Isabella. Even if she hated being wronged, she had no qualms about doing the same to others.

‘Just do as you’re told. Why do you have to interfere so much…!’

Isabella bit her tongue for a moment to quell the harsh words that were about to come out of her mouth. Madam Clemenza was a heavyweight that even Isabella had a hard time making reservations for. She was worried about what would happen later if she acted out of line.

Fearing she might be banned from Collezioni, she barely held back the urge to lash out. She thought she was a very polite and nice person who knew how to hold back, and she lied without even wetting her lips.

“Well, if it’s a debutante ball that everyone’s doing, it would be rude to the other girls to avoid white, but it’s a ball just for my sister at home, right?”

Isabella sweetly tied up her words with a smile.

“Our sisterly love is so great that our younger sister says we three sisters should all match our dresses in white.”

“……Is that so?”

Given Madame Clements’s 20 years of clothing store operation experience, there was definitely something fishy about Isabella.

If the three sisters were going to match their dresses, it was normal for all three sisters to coordinate from the same clothing store. However, Isabella’s two younger sisters were nowhere to be seen.

Initially, the youngest lady of this house was not even of age to attend the debutante ball, so it was unclear whether there was any significance in matching the color of their dresses.

But Madame Clements was a clothing store owner, not a judge.

“If your highness wishes for a white dress, then so be it.”

For Madame Clements, her job ended with making the dress, and what happened afterwards was for the person wearing the clothes to handle.

Unthinkably, Isabella added one more order, her eyes sparkling.

“Please make it as glamorous and innovative as possible, so everyone is taken by surprise.”

Isabella was shamed among her friends due to the previous incident of plagiarizing a composition. However, the relationships were too intertwined and Isabella’s influence was too great for them to cut ties with the most beautiful girl in San Carlo over such a matter.

Therefore, Camellia de Castellione, unable to complain to anyone, was heading to an afternoon tea party, effectively hosted by Isabella de Mare, with her fiancé in tow, as usual.

“Please come in, Lady de Castellione.”

The most handsome male domestic employed by the Viscount of Leonati, dressed in a sophisticated uniform, guided Camellia inside.

Today’s afternoon tea party was held at the Viscount of Leonati’s place. It was Leticia de Leonati, a loyal follower of Isabella, who held the tea party for her.

The owner of a hefty body and unique features, incongruous with her pretty name, Leticia, filled her lackluster presence in the social circles by being the friend of beautiful and popular Isabella.

Naturally, she was unconditionally dedicated to Isabella in order to maintain her position.

“Thank you.”

Camellia de Castellione managed to smile and thank the male domestic for his courtesy. By her side, Octavio de Contarini escorted her into the place.

“Welcome to the Viscount of Leonati’s, Signor Octavio.”

Unlike Camellia, who was addressed by her surname, ‘Lady de Castellione’, Octavio de Contarini was addressed by his first name, ‘Signor Octavio’. This was because he was the son of an Earl.

Children of the Earl and those of higher ranks were addressed by their first names, while those of Viscounts, Barons, and those of even lower ranks had no choice but to be addressed by their surnames.

‘Lady de Castellione’ was a part of this custom, a title representing the circumstances of the Castellione family, who only held the title of a Baron.

This was no exception for Isabella of the de Mare family, whose power reached the skies.

“Lady de Mare. Welcome to the Viscount of Leonati’s.”

Upon receiving the courteous greeting of the domestic, Isabella frowned.

“Welcome to the Viscount of Leonati’s, ‘Signora Julia’.”

This was because she was compared with Julia de Baldessar, who had followed her inside. Julia, as the daughter of the Duke of Baldessar, was addressed not by her family name, but by her own threecharacter name.

Isabella could afford Madame Clements’s dresses and was the target of admiration for all young men in the capital, but she could never be addressed by her first name at an official table.

‘What do I lack compared to Julia de Baldessar?’

Without a doubt, the future of Isabella de Mare, the most beautiful and wealthy girl in San Carlo, would be brighter than that of the sharp yet bland Julia de Baldessar.

At least, that’s what Isabella herself believed. However, at formal occasions, Isabella’s place was always one step behind Julia.

Isabella no longer wanted to stand behind the tiresome family name. The family belonged to her father, and in time, it would become her brother’s.

The only thing Isabella could possess entirely was not the glory of the family or the castle, but the honor attached to her name.

“Her Highness Princess Isabella.”

When that day came, she could stand solely as an individual. Until then, she had no choice but to make the most of what she had. Isabella planned to use every trick she could to reach that position, not sparing any means.