“Come, come. Everyone, drink up.”
The lord urged, raising his glass high after finishing a lengthy speech about the supposed superior quality of his wine. Mia let most of his explanations go in one ear and out the other, though a few points stood out. Even without his suspicious demeanor, she had already experienced what was about to unfold.
The baron’s toast was followed by a parade of oversized plates too extravagant for daily use, creating an air of forced luxury. Lavish candles, seemingly hoarded for this occasion, added to the spectacle. If they wanted to impress with such hospitality, they should’ve held this banquet at night, Mia thought. What visual delight could they possibly offer when the candlelight barely illuminated anything? She pushed aside the thought and began scrutinizing the dishes on the long table.
The food was carried in by the lord’s son, his greasy clothes clashing with the meticulously decorated dining room. Had the baron not introduced him as family, no one would have guessed their relation. The baron’s treatment of his son—scolding him for sweating while carrying plates, even banishing him for “ruining the meal’s dignity”—hinted at deeper secrets about the boy’s origins.
The food itself was likely the best a small territory could muster: greasy and over-spiced to mask cheap ingredients, yet passable for the Holy Legion’s officers, most of whom were nobility.
But not all guests endured the awkward atmosphere. At the table’s far end, one man stubbornly refused every dish offered to him.
“Your Excellency, it’s quite tasty. Won’t you try even a bite?”
“My health isn’t what it once was. Strong spices unsettle my stomach.”
The baron’s expression hardened imperceptibly.
Mia watched the young man—likely her age—slip away unnoticed. When their eyes met, he offered an awkward smile. She pitied him. Being leashed to such a father at his age couldn’t be pleasant.
Her musings shattered as the baron himself approached, calling her name.
“Lady Blanchard.”
“......”
“Don’t linger there. Come sit beside me. I’ve reserved the seat of honor.”
His tone grated, so Mia pretended not to hear. Undeterred, he pressed until she had no choice but to reply:
“My apologies, but I’ve grown accustomed to the far end. I can’t eat anywhere else.”
A feeble excuse, but fitting for his absurdity.
His next move surpassed all expectation.
“Very well. Then let me propose something else.”
Without letting her speak:
“My lady, how about a marriage contract?”
The most ludicrous words Mia had ever heard, delivered with the weight of a command.
Silence choked the hall.
Disgust flooded her before she could fully process his words. What flaw did he see in her that she’d wed a rude, greedy baron with a son her own age? Yet he preened as if offering a priceless gift. How could someone so oblivious hold power?
“You’ve remained unwed at this age. Surely there’s some... unspeakable defect?”
Ah. He thought himself magnanimous for deeming her “necessary.” His snooping had missed one crucial rumor—her relationship with the Legion Commander.
A sleeve weighted with expensive fabric slithered up her back like a serpent. Goosebumps trailed his touch. From baseless assumptions to uninvited contact—each act a blatant insult.
No—worse than insult. A farce.
“You must weep yourself to sleep from loneliness, my lady. Fear not! I, Rufus, shall—”
CRACK
Intentions could wait. Mia’s palm met his cheek with a slap that snapped his head sideways. The smug face flushed crimson, swelling visibly. By morning, he’d struggle to lift it.
“Baron.”
“......”
“Knowing one’s place is a noble virtue.”
“......”
“Yours remains lacking. Cultivate it.”
The hall stayed deathly quiet.
This is... unexpected unexpected.
Everyone but the baron seemed to approve. Mia pressed down a smirk.
As a soldier, striking a civilian warranted discipline—and rivals in the Legion would pounce on this. Yet even they took her side? Baffling.
She swept from the hall, leaving frostier silence in her wake. Between the baron’s daze and the glowering Legion Commander, the officers could only exchange uneasy glances.
Clink.
Utensils clattered as the Commander rose. “This atmosphere spoils the appetite. I take my leave.”
His officers streamed out behind him. Only the baron noticed the pair of violet eyes burning into his back from the shadows.
Mia knew her second life would diverge from the first. Perfect control was impossible, but until tonight, she’d considered it an improvement.
Why did he...?
Baron Rufus Galois: greedy, delusional, recklessly bold. His proposal might stem from that same idiocy. Yet—
He was taking cues from someone.
Events unseen in her first life now came into focus. Young Mia had been too arrogant, too fixated on proving herself to notice.
Perhaps I was the fool before.
The baron’s involvement ran deeper than she’d realized.
