Lennox laughed slightly at the absurdity of the situation.
*Who would have thought this cunning old woman would stage such an elaborate game?*
At the moment, he was attending a concert organized by Ilena Lindberg.
Most of the guests, along with the orchestra, had gathered in the grand hall on the first floor.
Since he had pressing matters to attend to, he had planned to depart that evening. But Ilena had intercepted him just before he could leave the South, persuading him to attend the performance.
"I've invited a truly extraordinary performer," she had insisted. "You absolutely must hear him before you go. And if you prefer not to be seen, I'll leave the second floor entirely empty so you can enjoy the music in peace."
Lennox possessed no particular interest in music or art—but he had calculated that the invitation would provide a convenient excuse to check on Juliet before departing.
However, shortly after the performance commenced, Lennox realized he hadn't been invited to appreciate the music at all.
This was a perfectly arranged scene for a play staged by a scheming old socialite.
While he maintained his vigilant observation of the proceedings below, he noticed Ilena cast a furtive glance toward the second-floor railing where he stood. Then she turned to address Juliet, who stood beside her.
"Juliet, please spare me a moment of your time. I've invited several distinguished gentlemen whom I should very much like to introduce to you."
When Juliet nodded in agreement, Ilena guided her through the crowd.
The concert on stage continued in full swing—but the *real* performance was only just beginning backstage.
Soon the elderly woman brought Juliet before a cluster of elegantly dressed men.
Whether because the setting was different, or perhaps because the company was more agreeable, Juliet's expression appeared more animated and relaxed than usual.
"Allow me to introduce Countess Montague. You've heard of her family, I trust? She's the daughter of the late Earl of Montague…"
"Of course—a truly distinguished lineage."
"Indeed, I've heard of them as well. A noble house dating back to the Empire's founding."
Juliet wore an unusual gown tonight—one with a high standing collar that swept down into a daringly deep neckline at the back. She looked devastatingly attractive, and she immediately captured the attention of every man in the vicinity.
Smiling sweetly, she graciously accepted the greetings and compliments from the gentlemen who surrounded her.
"A pleasure to meet you, Countess Montague! You truly are as dazzlingly beautiful as they say."
"Countess Montague—I find myself utterly amazed by your extraordinary beauty!"
"Madame Ilena, I am infinitely grateful to you for introducing us to such a remarkable lady!"
Meanwhile, Lennox observed this carefully orchestrated performance from his position above—and was forced to admit one thing, albeit reluctantly.
Even looking back, he recognized it had always been this way. Juliet was one of those rare people who effortlessly won the affections of strangers. And if not for her status as his mistress, she would have inhabited a far brighter, warmer world than the one she had endured while at his side.
"Oh, how could I possibly pass up the opportunity to introduce her to such noble gentlemen as yourselves?" Ilena shook her head with theatrical sadness as she watched Juliet surrounded by eager young men. "The only thing an old woman like myself desires is to see the daughter of my dear departed friends find a worthy match."
Then—as though by purest coincidence—she glanced back toward the second floor where the Duke stood watching.
Lennox was momentarily stunned by the old woman's brazenly obvious intentions.
It was so transparent he nearly laughed aloud. However, he wasn't foolish enough to fall for the veteran schemer's provocation.
With tremendous effort of will, he suppressed the violent urge to descend immediately and gouge out the eyes of every man whose shameless gaze lingered too long on Juliet.
If Juliet discovered he was here, it would not bode well for him. Especially if he began injuring people in her presence.
Regardless—he had already accomplished what he'd intended.
Juliet had arrived safely in the South, precisely as he'd planned. He'd confirmed her wellbeing and even managed to observe her for a time. It was time to return north.
"Ah—!"
But in the next instant, all thoughts of departure evaporated from his mind.
One of the fools surrounding Juliet most brazenly placed his hand against her bare back—pretending it was accidental while reaching for a glass of champagne.
Juliet's expression, which had been bright with conversation mere seconds before, instantly froze. A heartbeat later, bewilderment flickered across her features.
Her confusion was entirely natural. She found herself in an acutely awkward situation—one of the men around her had dared to harass her, blatantly disregarding every rule of propriety. And she clearly couldn't believe he had chosen to become physical in the presence of Ilena herself, the formidable godmother of high society.
"Oh—!"
But before Juliet could turn to identify the shameless offender, a tremendous crash echoed through the hall and the music abruptly ceased.
***BOOM!***
"A-aah!"
The confused crowd swiveled toward the commotion and discovered Viscount Fusilli sprawled across the polished floor. But what shocked them far more was the ferocious-looking man looming over him—a sight no one had anticipated.
"H-hey! What the hell is going on?! Do you have any idea who I *am*—?!" Viscount Fusilli screamed furiously, struggling to rise.
He proved unable to do so.
"Aaagh! Someone call a physician! My ribs—!"
The Viscount groaned loudly, clutching his side.
However, the guests displayed no interest whatsoever in his medical condition. Their attention was riveted entirely upon the man standing over him.
"Duke of Carlisle…?"
"W-who?"
"*Oh my God*—it's the Duke of Carlisle!"
The most disconcerted person among those assembled was Ilena Lindberg herself.
"What do you think you are *doing*, Duke of Carlisle?!"
Though she was the only person present who had known of his attendance from the beginning, she had never anticipated he would draw a sword and threaten one of her guests.
"Madame, your eyesight is deplorable," the Duke muttered through clenched teeth, fixing Ilena with a murderous glare. "Just because something can walk on two legs doesn't mean it deserves to be treated as human."
"What is *that* supposed to mean?"
"I'm saying I intend to cut this bastard's throat."
"*Heeeek!*" Viscount Fusilli hiccupped in abject terror upon hearing these words.
"Wait a moment, Your Grace! You must at least explain what is happening!"
"……"
"Did he truly offend you in some manner?"
Lennox offered no response. Juliet, standing beside him, spoke instead.
"I was the one he disrespected, Madame."
"Juliet? What are you saying?"
"Be quiet," Lennox growled, pulling her behind him to shield her.
But Juliet ignored him entirely and addressed Ilena directly:
"The truth is… that man touched my back with his hand. And he did it deliberately."
Murmurs of shock rippled through the crowd. People began regarding Viscount Fusilli with open condemnation.
"Viscount Fusilli—is this *true*? How could you behave so toward the Countess?!"
"What utter nonsense are you—"
Lennox's fury intensified. He had no desire to create a situation where scandalized guests would begin whispering about Juliet.
At that moment, Viscount Fusilli interjected, desperate to defend himself—ready to say anything.
"*Hah!* Don't try to blame me for this! The *real* problem is that she's wearing such revealing clothes in the first place! Her back is practically entirely exposed—*anyone* could have accidentally brushed against it!"
From that instant, the crowd's sentiment shifted. Now some regarded Juliet with disapproval.
Having regained his composure, Viscount Fusilli seemed determined to insist the contact had been purely accidental from the start.
But Lennox had no intention of listening to this drivel any longer. He wasn't about to request permission from Ilena—who had organized this reception—to punish the shameless wretch.
"What utter nonsense are you spouting?"
Suddenly, Juliet—who had been standing silently behind Lennox—stepped forward.
"Are you suggesting this was *my* fault for wearing this gown?"
"…That's *precisely* what I'm saying! Madame Ilena—look at her! You yourself have always maintained that a lady should dress with proper modesty!"
Ilena hesitated at this appeal. Truthfully, she hadn't approved of Juliet's attire tonight.
She held conservative views and had always instructed her granddaughters to refrain from wearing overly revealing garments. She had little tolerance for women who dressed too boldly.
"Hm…"
But Juliet appeared utterly indifferent to what others thought—including Ilena.
"So if I had dressed 'properly,' this wouldn't have occurred? Is that your argument?"
"Yes—exactly—"
"*Don't lie!*"
At this, Emma—who had been standing silently at the back of the crowd—surged forward. She approached her grandmother and spoke in a voice trembling with rage.
"Grandmother—*I've* experienced this too! Viscount Fusilli has been behaving inappropriately for ages now! He groped *me* as well!"
Ilena looked thunderstruck by this revelation.
"Emma—is this *true*?"
"*Yes!* And Countess Montague is absolutely correct! I agree with her completely!"
Emma's voice shook with fury as she continued.
"I *always* dress modestly, exactly as you've instructed—but that never stopped *him* from violating propriety!"
Emma had changed into a conservative dark blueberry-colored gown that reached all the way to her throat just before the concert began—at stern Ilena's insistence.
"…I witnessed him do it as well!"
"Come to think of it, I recall several maids who resigned recently…"
Gradually, others found courage and began sharing what they had observed and heard. The concert hall rapidly transformed into a venue seething with righteous indignation.
"Th-this is all *lies*! Madame Ilena—believe me!"
"Oh… my *God*…"
Suddenly, Ilena's face drained of color. She staggered, clutching her head as though on the verge of collapse.
"*Grandmother!*" Emma cried out immediately.
The guests ceased their discussions of the offender and stared at Ilena in alarm, seeing that she had been taken ill.
Lennox, meanwhile, regarded the elderly woman with barely concealed irritation. This appeared far more like a continuation of her theatrical performance than genuine distress.
Moreover, he cared nothing for the distinction between accident and deliberate action. All he wanted was to sever the bastard's hands—and then his head.
"Your Grace."
But at that moment, Juliet took his hand, as though reading his thoughts precisely. Then, taking advantage of a gap in the crowd of guests, she drew him along with her.
"Please—follow me."
---