Chapter Title: Empty Indulgences
"You've hit the nail on the head. Miss Adelaide is indeed beautiful, but she often responds in ways that are quite unexpected in such situations," Delilah said, tapping her fan thoughtfully against her chin.
"She didn't laugh much at jokes either…"
"I had a similar feeling. When I mentioned my mother's cicisbeo rarely visiting, she simply said, 'He must be very busy.'"
"Exactly. That comment made me uncomfortable. It's a cicisbeo's duty to attend to the lady, not something to be dismissed as 'busy.'"
Voices of agreement sprang up from various corners of the room.
Delilah touched her chin with her fan, intrigued.
"It's curious. No matter how long she stayed in Capolo, could she really be this naive?"
Sensing the discussion turning in her favor, Lady Ravenna stepped in.
"Delilah, your insight is sharp. It's true. Reacting like that to a mere joke! Did she really think I was seriously suggesting selling the people of Kimora as slaves? She doesn't understand the humor of high society at all."
Geneviève gave an ambiguous smile at Lady Ravenna's words.
*I'm sure there was some truth mixed in with that joke…*
Lady Ravenna continued.
"Bloodlines are important, but the experiences one has growing up cannot be ignored. Though Miss Adelaide carries Bonaparte blood, she doesn't entirely fit as a Fornatie noble."
Everyone exchanged uneasy smiles at Lady Ravenna's blunt statement, as if she were directly challenging the Bonaparte family.
Seeing no one supporting her, Lady Ravenna fanned herself to cool her flushed face.
"But in any case, it's not for us to judge her. If she truly doesn't fit the image of a Bonaparte lady, it will soon become evident."
"What do you mean?"
Lady Ravenna smirked mischievously.
"The Salon Ginoble is coming up this season, isn't it?"
---
Cesare sat on a gaudy velvet sofa, tilting a bottle of liquor. Many others like him surrounded him. Young nobles drank and engaged in lighthearted banter.
This was the Licentia Club, a place where Fornatie nobles came to find partners to spend the night with.
It was his first time not attending the Balladur Club on the opening night of the social season. Consequently, many glances were cast his way.
It irritated him more than usual today.
Cesare took his eyes off the surroundings and poured himself another drink.
One of the young nobles sitting nearby cautiously asked.
"Why didn't you go to the Balladur Club today?"
Cesare tried to recall the reason for the man's question.
Why indeed?
He had gone as far as the Temple of the Sea Goddess, where the Balladur Club was held. There, he heard that Count Ginoble had brought Lucrezia.
Normally, he would have ignored it, but suddenly he felt a surge of irritation.
How well had he orchestrated things that Ezra and Adelaide were practically attached already?
Of course, it wasn't a bad thing. But still…
*"…Wouldn't it be better to go where Sir Ezra invited you?"*
Seeing the naive shoe shiner almost completely taken in made him feel a bit uneasy—almost out of a sense of human decency.
The shoe shiner, oblivious, was probably happily discussing Durante right now.
"…"
Thinking this far, Cesare's expression turned cold. He swirled his drink slowly, pondering what he might have done had he encountered Lucrezia today.
He would likely have struck her.
So he had refrained from going to the Balladur Club, and he summarized the situation briefly.
"Starving."
The young nobles around him chuckled.
"Come to think of it, you did suddenly stop."
"I was surprised. I thought you'd never stop seeing women."
The informal banter was fitting for a casual setting. Cesare drank, letting their crude comments wash over him.
After all, that was indeed his intention.
He had abstained for three months to take care of the poor shoe shiner.
Now, the shoe shiner was probably clinging to the young master of Della Valle, so he might as well enjoy similar pleasures.
Cesare poured more drink into his glass, but the bottle was empty. He requested more from a servant and propped his chin on his hand, bored.
The others were still engrossed in their bawdy conversation.
Cesare, watching them, suddenly asked.
"Has anyone been to the Verisimus Club?"
As one born into the highest ranks of nobility, he had never visited such clubs frequented by idlers.
"I've been."
One replied, chuckling.
"It's a complete gathering of losers."
"Don't talk about yourself."
"Oh, come on. I'm not as pathetic as those fellows. They're always going on about Durante or something. Who knows what they're talking about."
"Are you proud of your ignorance?"
"Hey, why are you speaking like that?"
The young man bristled but quickly laughed it off, thinking it a joke.
But Cesare found it pathetic.
How could they be less ashamed of their ignorance than a shoe shiner? The country was doomed. They should all have their heads chopped off and dried nicely to be fed to the fish.
Cesare sighed, pouring himself some Glenkelan that the servant had brought, and looked around.
He saw couples of like minds wrapping their arms around each other, heading off to other rooms.
Cesare watched them for a moment, then downed his drink.
*At least in such gatherings, you wouldn't have to worry about being completely devoured by some man…*
A smile tugged at his lips.
Adelaide Bibi was not someone who would be easily devoured by anyone, after all.
Feeling strangely cheerful, Cesare poured himself another generous glass of liquor. Meanwhile, a servant was leading a tangled couple somewhere.
They were no better than animals. It was fortunate that Adelaide Bibi didn't come to such a place. No—eventually, she'd end up like that with Ezra too. That was rather revolting…
Cesare's train of thought was interrupted when someone sat beside him.
"You're drinking a lot tonight, Cesare."
It was a woman with curly maroon hair and full lips. Even without the purple dress, made from tormenting millions of snails, her face bore an unmistakable noble elegance.
"Charlotte?"
Charlotte smiled at Cesare's recognition.
"It's been a while. How have you been?"
Charlotte Yvrea, the beloved youngest daughter of the Prior of the Southern Islands, Duke Yvrea.
Cesare, unfazed by her words, simply stared at her hair.
*Purple is the complementary color to green…*
With that thought occupying his mind, one of her eyebrows arched.
"What? Are you 'Duke Cesare' today?"
Cesare snapped out of his thoughts and chuckled.
"Just Cesare."
"Hmm? You don't seem quite yourself today."
"Don't I?"
Cesare answered nonchalantly and took another sip.
Charlotte, seemingly indifferent, lightly placed her hand on his thigh.
"You really must be drunk. You should rest, Duke Cesare."
Her hand boldly slid up his inner thigh.
The young nobles around them politely averted their gaze. Meanwhile, Cesare narrowed his eyes and reflexively moved to push her away, only to stop.
That was the purpose of coming here, wasn't it?
Maybe after this, he wouldn't react to a mere shoe shiner anymore.
He might become more composed.
"Let's go."
Cesare stood up abruptly. Charlotte, leaning on him, fell back onto the sofa, giggling.
"Such manners."
Cesare smirked.
"As long as I'm good in bed, what more do you want?"
"You should know you have nothing to offer except that body."
"Take away my face, money, and skills too."
Charlotte swore at him but soon started laughing. She seemed to be on something.
As they left the hall, Charlotte clung tightly to Cesare's arm.
"But why are you so melancholy today?"
"The drink got to me."
"Since when?"
Engaging in light conversation, they reached a room on the second floor.
As soon as the door closed, Charlotte pressed her body against his aggressively.
"Mm. Honestly, you're the best."
But Cesare just stood there with his hands in his pockets.
He needed to. He should do it.
But unbelievably, he felt no urge.
"Are you really drunk?"
Charlotte asked, puzzled, as she pushed him onto the sofa.
Too tired to answer, Cesare let himself be pushed back and lay down. He exhaled a breath that smelled of alcohol.