The Palace Gardens

Despite Rosalie's fears, the day of the Imperial Bnquet approached in a blink of an eye.

Standing before the mirror, the girl marveled at Aurora's skilled handiwork, which had transformed both Lady Ashter and her gown into an exquisite, harmonious duo.

Her porcelain skin was shimmering with a light touch of powder and blush, contrasting greatly with the rich rose-red color of her plump lips and thick black lashes. Her long hair was carefully gathered up, leaving several light wavy strands to fall out of the ensemble, giving her a somewhat nonchalant look, while still gracefully exposing her long slim neck.

The long red dress, salvaged from her brother's destructive outburst, was skillfully readjusted to Rosalie's slender frame. It cascaded effortlessly down her thighs, pooling elegantly around her feet. The fitted corset provided a convincing illusion of curves, its intricate golden lace depicting a captivating array of flowers and leaves. While this dress couldn't rival the grandeur of the one destroyed by her brother, Rosalie's stunning appearance elevated it to an accessory enhancing her overall enchanting aura.

"Lady Rosalie, what should we do about your neck? It looks rather empty..."

The maid stood before her lady, presenting two sets of necklaces, her head tilted to the side as she considered the possible options. Suddenly, the door to Rosalie's bedroom swung open with a resounding creak, revealing Raphael's imposing figure as he approached them, holding a long box enveloped in green velvet.

"Put that garbage away, Aurora. I cannot allow my lovely sister to wear the same jewelry twice."

He ordered Aurora to leave the room, but she was reluctant to do so until Rosalie offered her an encouraging nod, ensuring her that she would be alright. Once the maid closed the door behind her, Raphael opened the velvet box and took out a strikingly beautiful gold necklace, ornamented with small, red, tear-shaped jewels that were hanging down the thin gold chain like little droplets of blood.

He then stood behind her, wrapping the necklace around her thin, pale neck, and the girl felt his cold fingers sliding over her skin like disgusting snakes. As he fixed the chain, her brother leaned closer, looked over her left shoulder, and whispered, his lips brushing over her exposed flesh,

"You look so good in red, Rosalie. So good that it makes my blood boil at the mere thought that it was meant for some gawking imbecile."

His hot lips moved down her neck, leaving damp kissing traces all the way down to her collarbones as he continued his whispering,

"Do not worry too much. Meeting Young Duke Amado is just a formality. Your brother will take care of everything afterward. You know that, right?"

Raphael's lips curled into a vile smile that sent shivers down Rosalie's spine. She swallowed a hard lump stuck in her throat and forced out a single word, uttered in a weak, hoarse voice,

"Yes."

"Good girl."

At last, the man pulled his grinning face away from her body and placed his hands on the girl's shoulders, turning her whole body around.

"And do not worry about the Hunting Loot Ceremony. I have caught a lot of magic beasts this time, you will not be disappointed."

Rosalie forced herself to smile and nodded.

"Yes. Thank you, brother."

Satisfied with his sister's behavior, Raphael planted a light kiss on her forehead, then wrapped her tender arm around his, and said rather enthusiastically,

"Let us depart then."

***

The Imperial Palace was a grand architectural marvel of the whole Empire of Rische and stood as an awe-inspiring testament to grandeur and power. Its majestic facade stretched across the horizon, adorned with intricately carved stone pillars and glistening marble walls. Towering spires pierced the sky, their golden tips gleaming under the sun's radiant rays.

Lavish gardens, meticulously landscaped, surrounded the palace, their vibrant blooms and fragrant scents welcoming visitors from all around the Capital. A grand entrance beckoned with ornate gates, guarded by knights clad in resplendent uniforms. As one approached, the rhythmic clatter of hooves echoed from the courtyard, where nobles and courtiers arrived in elegant carriages.

According to the novel's plot, the banquet was supposed to celebrate the Crown Prince's successful return from the Hunting Trip, thus, the first part of the event took place in the Imperial Gardens behind the Palace, where the noble gentlemen had an opportunity to parade their spoils and present it to the noble lady of their choice, expressing their affections and allegiance.

Rosalie, escorted by her brother, entered the Imperial Gardens and her breath nearly caught in her throat as she beheld the magnificent spectacle before her.

The main Garden unfolded in a verdant tapestry, a serene oasis where nature's splendor intertwined with human revelry. Lush, manicured lawns stretched as far as the eye could see, dotted with vibrant flowers in a kaleidoscope of colors. Towering trees offered respite from the sun's rays, their branches swaying gently in the breeze.

Meandering pathways led to hidden alcoves and picturesque gazebos, where noblemen found shelter from the annoying summer heat. Laughter and merriment filled the air, mingling with the delicate melodies of musicians performing in the distance.

The Imperial Gardens, just like the author described, provided a haven of beauty and joy, an enchanting backdrop for the noble gathering.

As her gaze wandered through the exquisitely attired nobility, Lady Ashter couldn't shake a sense of detachment. In the novel's world, Rosalie was an outcast, a solitary figure shunned from social gatherings and celebrations. Now, burdened with the presence of an even greater outsider within her, the weight of loneliness pressed upon her, almost overpowering.

'I guess I should not care about socializing regardless of my identity. After all, I would not recognize the person anyway unless I hear their name.'

Her train of thought was abruptly halted by Lord Ashter's raspy voice, calling her name in a tone that bordered on reprimanding. Snapping back to reality, Rosalie's attention shifted to a figure standing nearby—a rather diminutive and slight man, seemingly in his late twenties. His pallid complexion and sparsely scattered blond hair added to his overall pitiable appearance.

"Rosalie, I would like you to meet His Grace, Young Duke William Amado, the eldest son of Duke Vincent Amado."

William stretched his thin lips into a wide smile, revealing his unexpectedly large and slightly misaligned teeth. His clammy, cold hand reached out to grasp Rosalie's, pulling it closer to his mouth in an attempt to bestow a greeting kiss upon it.

As his lips retreated from her skin, Rosalie mustered a smile, all the while suppressing a powerful urge to recoil in disgust. Lord Amado, however, interpreted her expression as a sign of warmth, prompting him to embark on their conversation.

"My Lady, I have seen you at the formal gatherings before, but now that you are standing so close before me, I feel entirely blessed by your ethereal beauty."

"Well, yes, thank you... My Lord."

His saccharine words made Rosalie cringe in repulsion. She kept staring blankly at him, his continuous and mindless chatter was no longer the focal point of her interest as she was only waiting for it to be over, when all of a sudden, it seemed like every single person in the Gardens was simultaneously involved in the shared and rather lively conversation.

"Is that really him? Is that really Duke Damien Dio?"

The nervous whispers and hushed murmurs reached Rosalie's ears, piquing her curiosity. Sensing the collective gaze of the crowd, she instinctively turned her attention in the same direction. At that moment, her eyes widened, and she felt her heartbeat reverberating in her ears, quickening with anticipation.

'... It's him... Damien Dio. He really came.'