Irene found herself wondering.
What exactly was she supposed to do in this situation? This was her first time meeting her supposed sister-in-law, Olivia Heinrich, face-to-face.
“Ah, Princess Astrid! It’s so great to see you!” Olivia beamed, her arms opening just in time for Astrid to rush forward and embrace her.
“Oh?” Irene raised a brow, mildly surprised.
She knew Olivia had been living in the Imperial Palace for several months now, but Astrid didn’t live there. Even so, the two greeted each other warmly. They seemed rather close.
As they pulled apart from the hug, Olivia’s expression brightened further. Her eyes landed on Irene.
“Oh my! Princess Irene,” she said with a graceful bow, “it’s an honor to finally meet you.”
Irene blinked, caught slightly off guard by how genuinely soft-spoken she sounded.
Olivia continued with a calm smile. “I’ve seen you a few times during noble gatherings when I was younger. But it’s truly different meeting you like this. In person.”
Irene gave a polite nod, folding her hands loosely before her.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you as well, Lady Olivia.”
The atmosphere was rather stiff and awkward as the two regarded each other.
Olivia felt slightly intimidated by Irene’s presence and natural allure, though her hands clasped in front of her dress gave away the slightest trace of nervousness despite trying her best to hide it.
Astrid, sensing the mood, stepped in to ease the tension. “I was just telling Olivia earlier how stunning she looks in her final gown. Don’t you think so, sister?”
Irene glanced at the gown. It was pristine white, adorned with embroidery and jewels that caught the light just enough to sparkle. The design was clearly chosen by a professional.
“My, of course,” Irene said. “She’s a natural beauty. How did our brother ever manage to win over someone like her?”
Olivia let out a modest chuckle, her cheeks tinged pink. “That’s too generous, Your Highness.”
“It’s not,” Irene replied. “Franz is many things, but charming isn’t usually one of them.”
Astrid laughed lightly, stepping closer to her sister and lowering her voice. “Sister… not here.”
“Fine, fine.” Irene waved her off with a flick of her wrist.
“…?”
Olivia glanced between the two Imperial sisters with her smile still intact. It didn’t take much to see that Irene didn’t hold Franz in the highest regard. But she didn’t press the issue.
Instead, she kept her decorum, doing her best to remain courteous.
“Don’t worry, Lady Olivia,” Irene said/ “And welcome to the Aetherion family.”
“Ah, please, Your Highness,” Olivia said quickly, bowing slightly. “Call me Olivia. And thank you… truly.”
Their conversation carried on for a few more minutes. Though the air between Irene and Olivia wasn’t fully familiar, there was a mutual understanding. Olivia left and return with a dress appropriate for the evening.
Eventually, the atmosphere shifted as more guests began to arrive. Noblewomen from all corners of the Empire gathered; Duchesses, Marchionesses, Countesses, Viscountesses, and Baronesses.
They each arrived in lavish carriages, donning the finest dresses of silk, lace, and gemstones.
Just as the men were hosting a grand Bachelor’s affair to celebrate the groom’s final days of freedom, the noblewomen, too, had organized a Bachelorette gathering to honor the future Empress’s last moments as an unmarried lady of the court.
It was tradition.
And tradition, especially within the aristocracy, was treated with near-religious reverence.
The event was held in the Imperial Garden Pavilion.
It was a breathtaking venue with hanging crystal lanterns, blooming midnight roses, a grand fountain, and several gold furniture.
As lavish as it appeared, this was merely the opening act of an entire day’s worth of festivities planned to honor the future Empress.
Perhaps it was because she had been absent from the public eye for some time, but the moment Irene Barielle Aetherion made her entrance, noblewomen naturally flocked to her.
The First Princess of Aetherion had long been viewed with suspicion by the noble class, largely due to the persistent rumors of her alleged defection to the Theocracy.
Though never officially branded a traitor, it was hard to dismiss the thought.
However, her recent involvement in sentencing the corrupt noble House of Esmeralda and dismantling the previous Head of the Ainsley Marquess Household had made a shift in perception.
Slowly but surely, a new image was being painted of Irene.
Still, in the world of noblewomen, gossip was as natural as breathing.
And as noblewomen themselves, many of these ladies could sympathize, at least superficially, to societal expectations and political games.
Some had endured similar scrutiny in their youth. Others had merely watched from the sidelines as Irene grew up under the spotlight of the court.
Now, gathered at the Imperial Garden Pavilion, they saw an opportunity. Not only to observe her, but perhaps, if they played their cards right, they could curry her favor.
One by one, they approached gracefully. Duchesses, Marchionesses, Countesses, Viscountesses, and Baronesses encircled her with all the grace their titles held.
“I never thought we’d be graced by your presence, Your Highness,” one said with a light laugh. “You look as stunning as ever.”
“Is it true you’ve returned to Aetherion for good now?” another inquired. “The Empire has sorely missed its jewel.”
“You’ve hardly aged at all, Princess Irene,” chimed in a third, fluttering her fan. “What is your secret?”
Irene offered a poised smile in her responses. One so effortlessly refined that it was impossible to tell if it was genuine or merely polite performance.
That was her talent. Irene was a natural extrovert who knew how to keep her elegance in check, as long as her temper never boiled over.
“Is that so? It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
She didn’t recognize many of the younger noblewomen, but she most definitely recognized the older ones.
She bore no grudge. Whatever rumors they harbored about her likely came from their husbands, who, in turn, no doubt repeated any fabrications Franz had allowed to circulate.
Across the pavilion, Astrid found herself in a similar situation. Though less experienced in the art of courteous interactions she was equally blooming, if in a different way.
“You’re growing up to be so beautiful, Your Highness!”
“My, I remember how small you were back then. Now look at you, absolutely stunning!”
Where Irene exuded a natural, sultry charisma, Astrid possessed a serene, dignified grace that came from her temperament.
It was no wonder the two sisters drew admiration wherever they went. The Aetherion blood ran strong, and it was evident in every inch of them.
“Has any lucky nobleman captured your heart, Princess?” a Viscountess teased with a playful smile.
Astrid blinked, momentarily startled by the directness. “Ah, no. I’ve been rather preoccupied with my studies.”
“Truly, it would be a shame if such beauty were wasted on dusty books,” another mused.
“I would hardly call it wasted,” yet another noblewoman interjected with a wine glass in hand. “She has better things to do than chase marriage contracts.”
“Indeed,” a third chimed in with a light laugh. “None of the noble Houses could ever dare to deserve the Imperial Sisters!”
There was a wave of amused murmurs among the gathered women. Though the comments teetered on the edge of jest, there was an obvious trace of sincerity.
Outside the ranks of the Imperial Duke Families, few noble Houses would ever dare to consider themselves worthy of uniting with the bloodline of Aetherion.
That kind of privilege was reserved for those whose names were tied deep into the Empire’s foundations.
And yet, here she was.
Olivia Heinrich. Daughter of the Heinrich Duke Family.
They were prestigious, yes, but with no prior marital ties to the Imperial line. Though no one voiced their judgment aloud, the question couldn’t be avoided.
Was she truly fit to be Empress?
Unlike Irene, whose natural allure carried the seductive grace of a woman born with power, or Astrid, who exuded poised regal, Olivia’s beauty had a touch of innocence.
There was a delicate gentleness in the way she moved, in how she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, in the subtle flush that rose to her cheeks whenever she was addressed directly.
It wasn’t hard to see she was raised carefully.
She smiled politely, answering questions with grace and gratitude without ever once stumbling.
“She’s so delicate,” one Viscountess murmured behind a lace fan. “I daresay she’d faint before even lifting a royal decree.”
Indeed, Olivia carried herself with such gentle grace that one might think she wouldn’t dare harm a fly!
And yet, it was exactly that unthreatening presence that kept even her critics at bay.
How does one scorn a woman who never gives you reason to?
Eventually, the event transitioned to its next phase. The grand bachelorette celebration dispersed into smaller excursions across the Empire.
To honor the future Empress, Olivia Heinrich, each activity reflected an aspect of Aetherion’s culture and traditions.
Some noblewomen boarded carriages bound for the Opera Hall in the western district, where a private performance awaited them. An original piece composed in celebration of the upcoming Imperial wedding was in session.
Others were escorted to the bathhouses, where a luxury spa with waters believed to have rejuvenating properties for both the skin and spirit, was located.
It was there that Astrid and Irene found themselves submerged up to their exposed skin in the warm water of the inner chamber.
Around them, several noblewomen conversed or indulged in silence. The atmosphere was serene as soft steam fluttered in the air.
Naturally, where the two Imperial sisters went, Olivia followed. She had grown close to Astrid over the past few months, and now, she wished to bridge the gap between herself and Irene.
Settling into the water beside them, with her bare skin exposed to the warmth, Olivia glanced between the two sisters.
Astrid was the first to speak. “Are you enjoying yourself, Olivia?”
Olivia smiled and nodded. “Very much. I would like to thank whoever planned this evening. Everything feels so thoughtfully prepared.”
“Hehe~” Astrid giggled softly, brushing a damp strand of hair behind her ear. “I may have made a few suggestions.”
Olivia turned to her with genuine warmth. “Then I owe you my thanks directly, Princess.”
“Please,” Astrid waved her hand modestly, “just Astrid, when it’s just us like this.”
There was a brief silence. The gentle ripple of water was the only sound to be heard. Olivia took that as her chance and shifted her attention to Irene.
“I hope you don’t mind my tagging along. I just… wanted to get to know you better.”
Irene, half-reclined against the stone edge, cracked one eye open at her soon-to-be sister-in-law.
“Hmm. You’re marrying Franz. Whether I mind or not is irrelevant.”
Olivia blinked. “Even so, I’d like to hear your thoughts.”
Irene stared at her for a moment, then closed her eyes again.
“I think you’re too kind for him,” she said.
Olivia blinked again, unsure whether to feel insulted or grateful.
Astrid laughed nervously, trying to diffuse the tension. “Sister…”
But Olivia, despite the awkwardness, straightened her back slightly and asked, “Ah… Forgive me if this is presumptuous, but… you seem to have a strained relationship with His Highness Franz. Is there something I should know?”
Her tone was gentle, but there was sincerity behind it. It was clear she simply wanted to understand the situation better.
Unlike how she had carried herself with the other noblewomen, Irene’s demeanor with Olivia was obviously colder.
It made Olivia slightly uncomfortable, but she didn’t mind it.
Irene paused for a moment, then her expression softened just slightly.
“He’s… a difficult person,” she said at last, choosing her words carefully. “But that’s not a secret. You’ve probably seen it yourself.”
That was all she would say. As much as she had her grievances with her brother, it felt wrong to badmouth him, especially in front of the woman who would soon stand beside him at the altar.
Still, Irene didn’t oppose his ascension. It was simply… complicated.
“I see…” Olivia said quietly. She didn’t press further.
There was a moment of quiet between the three.
Then, unexpectedly, Astrid broke the silence.
“I’ve never really thought about it before,” she mused aloud, “but I wonder… Olivia, what are your thoughts on marrying someone significantly older?”
“Eh?”
“Ah?”
Both Olivia and Irene blinked in tandem, clearly caught off guard by the sudden shift in topic and by how bluntly it was asked.
Astrid tilted her head, completely unbothered by their reactions. “I mean… my brother is like, what, fifteen years older than you? What’s that like? Is it weird?”
“Eh…?”
“Ah—!?”
Olivia blinked, wide-eyed, clearly not expecting such a personal question in the middle of a royal bath.
“U-Um… I never really thought of it as weird… Franz has always seemed more composed and… mature? I guess? And I suppose I liked that. I never really cared much about the age gap.”
“I see,” Astrid said, nodding thoughtfully. Then she added, as if only just realizing it herself, “Don’t mind my question too much. I was just thinking… I think I want someone older, too.”
Irene whipped around. “Astrid?!”
“Ehh—?” Astrid flinched, half-submerging into the water like a startled animal. “W-What?”
“What in Lumine’s name are you even saying?! Don’t say stuff like that out of nowhere!”
“I was just being honest!” Astrid said, pouting as she tried to sink further into the bath.
Olivia let out a soft giggle, covering her mouth politely. “Is there a nobleman who’s caught your eye, Astrid? Maybe the eldest son of the Clementine Duchy? I heard you’re quite close to the youngest daughter.”
“Eh? No, no. It’s no one… not yet, anyway.” Astrid looked away. “But if I had to say… I think I’d prefer someone older. Men my age are just so immature.”
And it was true. Ezra, for one, was frustrating. Her classmates acted like children, complaining about homework while still doing it. Silas on the other hand, was mature, sure, but Astrid wasn’t interested. His eyes were obviously on Charlotte.
And then there was Senior Adam, who couldn’t even hide his desire no matter how hard he tried. It was flattering, but Astrid couldn’t see him the same way he saw her.
Irene narrowed her eyes suspiciously. “Astrid, don’t tell me…”
“What?” Astrid said defensively.
“Oh! Is there someone?” Olivia asked eagerly, her eyes sparkling with curiosity.
Irene hesitated, unsure if she should even say it aloud. But the signs had been there. She had seen it herself.
“Don’t tell me… you’re interested in Marquess Astrea?”
“W-What?!” Astrid’s voice cracked in shock, her mouth trembling.
“Who?” Olivia blinked. “Wait, Marquess Vanitas Astrea?! Isn’t he your professor?!”
“Y-Yes?! I mean—No?!” Astrid hurriedly turned to Irene. “Why would you say that, sister?!”
“Well, it’s not like there’s anyone else I can think of!” Irene countered, folding her arms.
“Marquess Astrea… hm…” Olivia tapped her chin, thinking deeply.
She remembered him from noble gatherings. He was stern and looked a bit antisocial, but that was all on the outside.
The saying, “Don’t judge a book by its cover,” definitely applied to him. He was rather well-spoken, charming, and undoubtedly handsome.
Moreover, there was a certain appeal to him.
From a Viscount to a Marquess, all by his own merit. A once-in-a-generation genius, and now a well-respected scholar. Even if Olivia wasn’t deeply involved in academic circles, she had certainly heard the name Vanitas Astrea within that clique.
Not to mention, he was one of Franz’s closest friends.
But… wasn’t it a bit strange? A professor and his student?
“What’s the age gap again?” Olivia asked absentmindedly, as if the thought just slipped out of her mouth.
“Eight,” Astrid answered without pause.
Both Irene and Olivia turned to her, wide-eyed.
The speed of her answer said more than words ever could.
“W-Wait! That’s not the point!” Astrid waved her hand frantically. “I was just asking! This has nothing to do with Professor Vanitas!”
But despite her protests, the red flush on her cheeks and her attempt to hide beneath the water betrayed her.
“Just think about it, Astrid!” Irene exclaimed. “He’s not a good man for you!”
“I don’t like him like that, okay?!”
Astrid pouted her lips and slowly submerged in the water. Olivia watched her closely.
There was no doubt about it.
“….”
….The Imperial Princess was definitely smitten with that man.
* * *
They had stopped by several events such as lavish plays, orchestral performances, and exhibitions. Wherever the noblewomen went, petals were tossed, fanfare played, and streets were cleared to give way to their carriages.
The day’s festivities had reached their final act. It was a luxurious yacht dinner that drifted along Aetherion’s crystalline river. Lanterns floated in the air, reflecting on the clear water as the hum of string instruments tuned melodically.
Inside the deck, noblewomen dined under chandeliers and beneath skies studded with stars. Fine wine flowed freely, laughter echoed, and every conversation was still laced with etiquette, despite the alcohol.
Irene sipped from her glass as her eyes wandered toward the dark waters beyond the railing. Despite the festivities, her thoughts lingered on the bathhouse conversation earlier.
There was no way in hell she’d let Vanitas have Astrid! Anyone but her precious little sister!
Yes, he was competent. Yes, he was intelligent. Yes, he was a valuable ally in the politics she played.
But that was exactly the problem.
Vanitas Astrea was not a man built for peace, but was that of a man walking on the edge of a sword. Irene knew it well. She worked with him. She was using him. And in turn, she knew he was using her.
Astrid was bright and sincere. She didn’t know the world the way Irene did.
A man like Vanitas would only ruin her.
Even if his intentions were good, which Irene severely doubted. he would inevitably drag Astrid in a world she wasn’t meant for her.
Shit, did he seduce her? Was that why?
As the yacht’s staff finished their final preparations, the noblewomen were escorted to their assigned seats.
Irene was guided to a seat beside Olivia, who naturally took the center seat as the bride-to-be, while Astrid was placed on Olivia’s opposite side.
Dinner was served on golden-rimmed porcelain plates. Seasoned steaks, mutton, beef, glazed vegetables, and pastries adorned the setting.
Wine was poured into goblets, and the clinking of silverware filled the air along with the low conversation.
Astrid, ever curious, leaned closer to Olivia. “Are you nervous?”
Olivia smiled gently, her hands folded neatly over her lap. “A little. But more excited, I think. Everything’s so beautiful. Everyone has been so kind.”
Irene glanced sideways, watching the interaction.
“You’ll do fine,” Astrid said with warmth. “Honestly, it feels like you’ve always been part of the family.”
“That means a lot,” Olivia replied sincerely. “Especially coming from you, Princess Astrid.”
From across the table, a voice called out, “Princess Irene, is it true you once attended an academy in the Theocracy?”
A few heads turned in interest.
Irene, poised as ever, sipped her wine before answering, “Indeed. It began with my father’s diplomatic extension project with the Theocracy. There, I found myself immersed in their academic style, and decided to continue my studies, up until the end of highschool.”
“Then, forgive my forwardness, but how did you… adjust back into Aetherion’s noble circles?” one of the Baronesses asked. “Surely, the customs there are quite different.”
Irene smiled. “I adjusted just fine. After all, a noblewoman must know how to survive anywhere.”
That answer earned a few polite laughs, and a few curious glances.
Astrid leaned toward her sister and whispered, “You’re a little scary when you talk like that.”
“I know,” Irene replied under her breath. “That’s the point. Hehe~”
There was a natural hierarchy in play here. Irene wasn’t just a noblewoman. She was the First Princess of Aetherion, and she made damn sure no one ever forgot it.
She was no push-over. Rather, Irene embodied the very idea of a femme fatale.
Her image had long been the subject of court gossip. There were talks of love, secret romances, and seductions, but none of which ever lasted more than a few days before being regarded as downright ridiculous.
No one dared speak it to her face, of course.
Then came the question.
“Princess,” a Marchioness said delicately, folding her hands atop the tablecloth, “forgive me for asking so forwardly… but we’re all curious. Do you ever plan on getting married?”
Irene tilted her head and binkled subtly. A frown marred her expressions. “I believe there’s no need to.”
“….”
“If I ever get married, I stand to lose more than I’d bargain for.”
Laughter followed almost instantly.
“That’s right!”
“Haha~!”
“Oh, to be so bold! I could never say that in front of my husband!”
The table broke into a fit of amusement as noblewomen clinked glasses and playfully talked behind their husband’s backs.
But just as Irene cut into her steak and took another bite, her throat suddenly tightened.
“Cough! Cough…!”
She quickly reached for her goblet, downing the remaining wine in an attempt to wash it down.
“Cough! Cough…!”
But the coughing didn’t stop.
“Sister?” Astrid said with a furrowed brow. “Gosh, chew your food properly.”
Seeing Irene struggling and noticing her goblet was nearly empty, Olivia turned to the nearest servant. “Bring more wine.”
Irene, meanwhile, doubled over slightly in her seat. Her face was reddening.
“Cough! Cough…!”
That was when Astrid’s expression changed. Something was wrong.
Her instincts, having experience in this field, kicked in at once.
She instantly shot up from her seat and rushed to Irene’s side. Her eyes scanned her sister’s expression, breathing pattern….
Everything.
Then her voice rang out.
“Knights!” she shouted furiously. “Subdue all the servants and chefs immediately!”
Gasps erupted around the table as chairs scraped backward. The noblewomens’ chatter died instantaneously.
“What’s wrong, Astrid?!” Olivia exclaimed, fear evident in her expression.
Irene was already coughing up blood. Astrid was now certain what just happened.
“My sister’s been poisoned!”