TGW Chapter 16 Part 3

 

"Hmm."

Dian furrowed his brow. Watching the princess and Joseph dance the waltz left him feeling unsettled. To be precise, it was Joseph who bothered him.

"How strange."

When he had seen them before, he hadn’t felt this way. He had no personal grudge against Joseph, but today, Joseph Rouk seemed like a fool. It wasn’t that he wanted to side with Kuhn, but Joseph just didn’t seem qualified to be there.

Violet, who was standing next to him, asked, "What do you mean?"

"Oh, it’s nothing, just talking to myself."

Dian then asked for Violet’s opinion. "What do you think of those two?"

“They look good together,” Violet replied.

Dian clicked his tongue in dissatisfaction.

‘Am I the strange one here?’

Violet hesitated before adding, "…But I do think, in a way, that Princess Sienna is too good for Lord Rouk."

“Oh, you think so too?”

“Do you think so, Your Highness?”

The two were pleased to find themselves in agreement. Lowering their voices, they quietly criticized Joseph’s shortcomings. As they whispered to each other, those around them looked on fondly at the harmonious couple.

Meanwhile, the waltz ended, and the interlude began. The Silver King and Joseph exited the dance floor, leaving the hall momentarily empty again. Dian extended his hand to his fiancée.

“A dance?”

“Yes, Your Highness.”

Violet smiled and took his hand. They looked at each other and laughed again.

All around, other couples joined them, taking their partners by the hand and moving to the centre of the hall. Among them were Marquis Raad and Princess Fatima. Sienna glanced at the two of them but then deliberately looked away.

‘Be careful.’

Eyes were on her from every direction. Even the smallest action could be used against her. This place was a ruthless battlefield where one could be stabbed in the back the moment they let their guard down. Sienna was well-versed in both formal and informal social etiquette, having been taught by her mother, Patricia, who knew the ins and outs of the social scene better than anyone.

The second waltz was a long one. Some couples joined in midway through the dance, while others left before the music ended.

As the waltz concluded and another interlude began, Joseph cautiously tried to gauge the princess’s mood. Her expression gave nothing away, leaving him feeling frustrated.

He wasn’t socially awkward. He was quite skilled with words, and women usually laughed at his jokes. But in front of the princess, he felt as if something was stuck in his throat, making it hard to speak.

“Your Highness, if you’re willing, may I have another dance…?”

The princess was looking elsewhere. Following her gaze, Joseph frowned. At some point, Marquis Raad had approached and was now extending his hand to the princess.

“May I have this dance, Your Highness?”

Joseph was deeply displeased at having to watch the princess take the Marquis’s hand. It wasn’t jealousy; it was an instinctive sense of threat. There was nothing particularly objectionable about the Marquis’s conduct, but Joseph couldn’t shake the feeling that the Marquis was a nuisance.

‘An uncomfortable déjà vu.’

This unpleasant situation felt strangely familiar to Joseph as if he had experienced it before.

When the princess stepped out with Marquis Raad onto the dance floor, the audience’s interest was piqued.

The waltz began. It was a lively and upbeat tune, and the tempo was quick. The waltz was easy to learn, allowing beginners to dance with just a brief lesson, but the more one learned, the more challenging it became. Before the audience, the perfect waltz, as sought by the dance masters, unfolded.

By the time the introduction to the waltz ended, only the Silver King and the Marquis were gliding across the dance floor. No one dared to intrude on their performance. Everyone else opted to be spectators.

“Oh…”

Exclamations of admiration could be heard from all around.

Holding the Marquis’s hand, the Silver King twirled gracefully, her dress elegantly spreading around her. The Marquis pulled her closer without missing a beat, and the steps flowed seamlessly like water.

As the waltz ended, the two found themselves back in the centre of the hall where they had begun. The Marquis placed one hand on his chest and bowed, while the Silver King grabbed the hem of her skirt and curtsied deeply.

The crowd erupted in applause.

 

***

 

It was the third day, the final day of the year-end banquet. Unlike the previous two days, entry was allowed at dusk. Since the event started late, the hall was set to remain open until dawn.

A large number of attendees filled the vast banquet hall, just as they had on the first day. The Iron King and Marquis Raad entered simultaneously, each accompanied by their partners.

Though it wasn’t intentional—they simply crossed paths on the way in—some people believed it was a staged display of the camaraderie between the Iron King and the Marquis.

“Your dress is beautiful today, Fatima,” Violet complimented, admiring the striking red dress. It was a color few could pull off. Finding a style that suited her wasn’t easy, but Violet was impressed by Fatima’s adaptability.

“Thank you. You look lovely today, too, Violet.”

“Thank you. There are so many people here today.”

“Yes.”

Fatima looked around the banquet hall with a weary expression. She found it fascinating how the Empire’s nobles enjoyed the party with such enthusiasm as if it were the first day.

“People of the Empire seem to have incredible stamina, despite appearances. I had such a hard time getting up this morning.”

Compared to the harsh life in the desert, she had underestimated how tiring it would be to enjoy a party.

Fatima had learned first-hand that it was no easy feat. The noblewomen couldn’t sit down properly for fear of wrinkling their dresses. Wearing tight dresses, they had to smile cheerfully for hours. It would have been easier to cross the desert while enduring a sandstorm.

“It’s not that they have good stamina; it’s that they give it their all. I bet many of them will fall ill after the banquet ends.”

Fatima’s expression was complicated. Violet chuckled softly.

“I couldn’t understand it either.”

Since becoming engaged to the Iron King, Violet had made her official debut in society. Before that, she had spent her days leisurely in seclusion at her estate.

“I’m still a novice, so I’m just starting to understand a little bit. This place is a battlefield.”

“A battlefield?”

“Smiles are shields. The tongue is a sharp sword. Some people may enjoy the parties, but no one thinks of this place as a playground.”

“If it’s a battlefield, is there a victor?”

“Of course. The ultimate victor is the one who dominates the social scene.”

“Who is dominating now?”

It was a sensitive question, but Violet answered without hesitation.

“The Red King, Her Majesty’s mother.”

No one would likely disagree with Violet’s answer.

“Will Her Majesty the Silver King inherit that position?”

“Hmm. I don’t think so. Her Majesty doesn’t seem very interested in social activities.”

“The Red King is the Emperor’s wife, isn’t she?”

“Yes. But she didn’t become the King of the social scene just because she’s the Red King. It’s not a position granted by status. In fact, there have been more times in Imperial history when it wasn’t the Red King.”

“So, you could become the King too, Violet.”

Violet laughed and waved her hand dismissively.

“Oh no, not me. I’m not confident enough. I think Fatima has a better chance than I do.”

“Me? Is that possible?”

“There was a time when a noblewoman from another country led the social scene. It was a long time ago, though. Oh!”

Violet’s eyes widened. She looked as happy as a girl who had found her first love.

“Her Majesty the Silver King is over there. She must have arrived early today.”

Violet trotted off excitedly, and Fatima followed her at a slower pace.

‘King of the social scene.’

Fatima’s eyes sparkled with excitement. She glanced around the banquet hall, which epitomized luxury. The chandeliers hanging from the ceiling radiated brilliant light. The colorful dresses of the noblewomen dazzled the eyes.

Another small world. To rule over this world.

‘If I marry Kuhn…’

Over the past two days, Fatima had realized the Marquis’s position in the Empire. Everyone wanted to speak with him, lingering around. The wife of Marquis Rad would hold one of the highest positions in the Empire.

It wasn’t hard to imagine the Marquis’s wife becoming the King of the social scene. Ultimately, while she dreamed of ruling the desert, she also desired the position of King of the social scene.

Imagining a glorious future, Fatima indulged in a momentary sweet dream. But her eyes dimmed as she saw the Silver King surrounded by people. With her tall stature, the Silver King stood out even among a crowd.

‘It’s unfair.’

From the start, the playing field was different. Fatima, born a woman, had faced countless setbacks against the barriers of reality. But for the Silver King, gender was no hindrance.

She was said to have been taught the principles of rulership from birth. Her gaze of serene authority came naturally, and her upright posture never faltered in front of anyone.

Fatima turned her head. She saw Marquis Raad standing with the Iron King. There were many people around them as well. Fatima’s eyes darkened with a heavy sadness.

‘Kuhn has feelings for the Silver King. At least more than just a passing interest.’

During the two days of the banquet, whenever she had the chance, Fatima kept a close watch on the Marquis. No one could have observed him more persistently than she did. That was why she noticed those fleeting moments when the Marquis looked at the Silver King.

No one else would have suspected anything, as he was very discreet. It was in that caution that Fatima sensed it. The Marquis’s feelings weren’t light.

Other than the waltz on the first day, there had been no contact between the Marquis and the Silver King. And yet, that very restraint was what got under her skin.

‘I hope it’s just my imagination.’

She sensed that the two were deliberately avoiding each other.

‘The Silver King is already engaged. It must be a one-sided crush from Kuhn. That’s why he can’t express it.’

She needed it to be that way.

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