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“Marquis, didn’t you tell me that you don’t like it when you have to repeat yourself? But that’s a lie, right? I know, because you keep saying the same thing.”
Faced with her smile, Yves blinked as if he had become dazzled.
Radis’ eyes curled with a round arc.
This alone made her look like a completely different person.
And it was only then that Yves realized how beautifully long and lush her lashes were.
Every time she blinked, it felt as if he could hear the sound of a bird’s gentle wings.
He didn’t even know that when her black eyes—which were always as calm as the lake in his residence—were to reflect warm light, it’s like just one look from her was enough to share her warmth with him. It’s as if his chest was burning.
He also didn’t know how her cheeks would glow like pearls, though they looked as soft as velvet, making him feel the need to touch them.
And apart from that, her thin neck and her visible collarbone were also so very fascinating

Yves drew back. He took a deep breath.
It felt like he had caught fire.
“Water.”
Biting his lower lip, he turned around.
“I’ll get some water.”
“Marquis, please get some food, too. I could smell all that food, but I couldn’t eat anything until now.”
“
Okay.”
Yves hurried down the stairs, shaking his head as if he was a dog caught by the rain.
‘What the heck? Cold water. I need cold water.’
After returning to the banquet hall, he drank three glasses of iced water in quick succession.
Inevitably, he had a brain freeze, but it was thanks to this that he finally felt like he could come back to his senses.
With only ice left in his glass, he observed the situation in the banquet hall since he’s already here.
He was instantly met with a boisterous hall. The nobles were accustomed to such a grand banquet, and as always, they had segregated themselves into groups as they conversed.
The main figure who’s leading the atmosphere of the banquet hall was, as expected, Emperor Claude Arpend. Along with him were the nobles of the Iziad faction, whose influence was centered on the emperor himself.
Of note, there’s one such person who was flapping wild with excitement like a fish. It was Empress Adrian’s older brother, Euseph Lebeloia.
The emperor must have thrown a lame joke because he was clutching his stomach while laughing riotously. ‘Bwahahahaha! Your Majesty is very good at making jokes, too!’ What a spectacle.
On another side of the hall, Empress Adrian was sitting at the head of a wide table, chatting with noblewomen of various peerages, regardless of the factions their households were under.
Just like this, the empress would always make a show out of appearing in public and at events with different people, from different affiliations and status levels.
It seemed to be a conscious effort of creating the image of an empress who would accept anyone with open arms.
‘She’s a Lebeloia though.’
Yves Russell snorted inwardly.
Most of the noble households in the northwestern region, including the Lebeloia Duchy, were Iziads through and through.
They weren’t afraid of warfare, and they were hellbent on making war contributions while expanding their territories through conquest.
Claude Arpend, the emperor of the Cardia Empire, wasn’t never much of a pacifist either.
He had been hailed as a war hero when he was younger because of his feats of conquering small kingdoms before. And such a man as that was always reminiscing the good ole days—yearning to be back in his heyday.
In Yves’ eyes, the gathering of the Iziad faction nobles was like a warehouse full of gunpowder.
With the ego of Emperor Claude and the ambitions of the Iziad nobles combined, it seemed like they would all explode if only one small flame were to be lit up.
“Marquis Russell.”
Hearing his name being called, Yves looked behind him.
It was Duchess Byard, and in one hand, she was holding a cocktail glass, presumably filled with kirsch.
“Can I talk to you for a second?”
“Of course, Duchess.”
The duchess said a small goodbye to the ladies she had been talking to just now. Those ladies were likewise drinking cocktails as they were grouped together.
Facing Yves, whose arms were now crossed, the duchess spoke with an elegant tone.
“I wasn’t planning on saying this here, but Mariel misses you very much, Marquis. I’m tired of having to hear Mariel’s bemoaned lamentation, so just please allow her back into your residence.”
Mariel Russell—the Russell Marquisate’s marchioness of two generations ago, and Yves’ grandmother—was a close friend of Duchess Byard.
Yves was taken aback by what the duchess told him.
A while back, Mariel had made a huge blunder with her words in front of Radis.
Angered, Yves had threatened Mariel back then and told her, ‘Don’t come back to the mansion unless you apologize to Radis properly.’
But for an apology to be conveyed, didn’t they have to meet?
Since she couldn’t come back to the mansion, she couldn’t meet Radis, and so she effectively couldn’t apologize either. And Mariel herself was probably not reaching out to Yves first because of her pride.
Yves replied politely.
“Of course, I’ll do that. I hadn’t been able to consider my grandmother’s feelings until now.”
The duchess gave a smile that reached her eyes.
“That’s a relief. The lady that Mariel had misunderstood is the red-haired lady earlier, Miss Radis, right?”
“As expected, you have a good eye, Duchess.”
“Ohoho! I had misunderstood as well, so it’s no doubt that Mariel thought the same.”
“Misunder
stood?”
The duchess patted Yves Russell’s arm with a gentle touch, like he was an adorable grandson of her own.
“You know, Marquis Russell, when you entered the hall with Miss Radis beside you, it really looked like she’s your very lovely lover who suits you very very much.”