Chapter 7

　　As darkness settled over Edel, the city’s gaslights flickered to life in unison. Golden flames, sharp and jagged, shimmered on the gently flowing river in a dizzying dance. Liam, leaning his arms on the terrace railing, brought a cigar from his pocket and lit the end. It was then that he spotted a woman standing not far away.

　　She was in the center of Loa Square, as motionless as the statue in the central fountain. He would have passed her by without a second thought if she weren’t a familiar face. The daughter of the family that made a king of a man who should not have been one—a family bound by an extraordinary promise from that very king. A promise so old it was nearly forgotten. He never imagined she would appear before him again.

　　“Not coming in? What are you looking at?” Miles, who had followed Liam out for a breath of air, came to his side with a cue stick in hand.

　　Liam turned slightly, resting both elbows on the railing. “Does the Marquis Renfred have the luxury of fresh air when he is about to lose his fortune?”

　　“What are you talking about? My greatest pleasure is pretending to lose, only to turn the tables at the very end.”

　　“A twisted hobby.”

　　Miles chuckled, slinging an arm over Liam’s shoulder. “Hey, Liam. I learned it all from you. I’ve admired you enough to copy everything you’ve done since we were children.”

　　At the cloying words, Liam’s perfect eyebrows knitted together. Grinning as if he’d been waiting for that reaction, Miles soon found the spot where Liam’s gaze had been fixed.

　　“Oh, well. Are there still women who dress like that these days?” Even to Liam, who had no interest in fashion, it was clear that the bustled skirts she wore had gone out of style years ago. Wait, perhaps there is one other person.

　　Noticing Liam’s silent focus on the woman, Miles asked, “Do you know her?”

　　“Perhaps.”

　　He tried to brush it off, but it was a futile effort.

　　“What? Liam, looking at a woman!”

　　“Who is she? Don’t keep it to yourself, tell us!”

　　At the sound of Miles’s voice, a group of men who had been passionately competing with him just moments before swarmed over. Their eager eyes scanned the square, quickly pinpointing the object of Liam’s attention.

　　“Whoa, has there always been such a beautiful woman in Edel?”

　　“I’ve never seen her before. What family is she from?”

　　“Liam, is she someone you know?” his friends asked persistently, assuming that the city’s most popular man, to whom women flocked like moths to a flame, would surely know her.

　　Liam answered coolly. “The future Crown Princess.”

　　“Ugh! Seriously?” Collins, who had assumed it was just another woman trying to catch Liam’s eye, choked on his drink and broke into a fit of coughs.

　　“The future Crown Princess? Did such a woman exist?”

　　“Liam, are you sure you’re not mistaken? I’ve never heard of that.”

　　At their clueless reactions, Liam took a deep drag from his cigar and stared at the woman, standing alone amidst the glittering nightscape. “A Crown Princess one would rather not acknowledge.”

　　His friends shot him resentful looks for his maddeningly cryptic remarks. They had to inspect. As the men stood with their arms crossed, deep in thought, Collins’s head shot up as if he’d remembered something. “Wait, it’s that family. The one called… Monton or something.”

　　“Ah, now that you mention it… I remember. Sermont!”

　　At that exclamation, one by one, they began to recall stories they had heard from their elders. The friends still in the dark pressed impatiently, “What is it?”

　　“You know, the story about the late king sending some girl to the countryside for ‘Crown Princess training.’ It’s been about a decade, right?”

　　“What? A decade?!”

　　“How desperate must she be to become Crown Princess to spend ten years in that backwater?”

　　Miles, who had been listening quietly, now remembered as well and shook his head. “I bet she’s some old-fashioned, stuffy woman steeped in outdated ideas. She’d probably get along well with Madam Demona.”

　　At the unexpected name, a smile spread across Liam’s lips. The topic of conversation had shifted from billiard odds to the gossip of another family. The men chattered on, having found a new, more interesting game. As Liam watched them like a man watching a fire across a river, Miles sidled up to him.

　　“Why? Does she bother you?”

　　“Is there any reason she should?”

　　“Well, you’re being uncharacteristically secretive, for the Duke of Crawford, so how should I know?”

　　Miles gave him a suspicious look, but as far as Liam was concerned, there was absolutely no reason for him to be bothered. The woman who was to become the noble Crown Princess of Stoneburn had appeared in Edel. It might capture the interest of gossipmongers, but certainly not his—a man whose life had never once been uneventful.

　　It was then that an unexpected comment reached his ears. “Sermont? Isn’t that the family that was put up for auction a few days ago, looking to sell their name?”

　　Liam’s bored eyebrows lifted slightly.

　　“So the rumor that the Viscountess is selling off all the family assets was true?”

　　“Why would she sell the family name when her daughter is about to become the Crown Princess? You’d think she’d be looking to cash in.”

　　“She probably can’t cash in anymore,” Liam muttered as if it were someone else’s problem, crushing his cigar in a crystal ashtray. “Or it’s a title trade.”

　　The business of buying and selling noble houses was colloquially known as the ‘title trade.’ It had started with lower nobles, unable even to collect taxes, selling their names to wealthy commoners to survive. But soon, other nobles began to exploit it as a loophole. Those who sold their family name would then be granted a new name and title by a high-ranking noble, allowing them to maintain their status while repeatedly selling off the new titles they acquired.

　　Conservative aristocrats strongly condemned the practice, but there were always those among the great nobles who valued money over integrity. These obsolete aristocrats, who lacked the business acumen to do anything but rely on tax revenues, found themselves short on cash as their tenant farmers left for the cities. To fund the parties necessary to maintain their social standing, they would turn a blind eye and grant titles for a price.

　　Having pieced together the whole story from these trivial bits of information, he lost interest completely. Another fallen noble family would be born, and a newly minted one would take its place.

　　“I wonder if she knows.”

　　"Hard to say.” Liam took his hand from his pocket and pulled out another cigar. He answered thus, but he would have bet all his cards that she didn’t know.

　　‘I am Arlen Sermont, the eldest daughter of the Sermont family.’ The woman, who must have been crying just moments before, had said this with a dignified face, every trace of tears wiped clean.

　　You’re about to lose your family name. He imagined she would finally cry her eyes out, unable to hide it this time. An uncharacteristically malicious sense of anticipation made Liam smirk.

　　Just as the carriage carrying the woman drove away, a white carriage rushing from the opposite direction, from Garnet Road, caught his eye. It stopped directly in front of the building he was in, and Liam’s gaze turned cold. A moment later, a man got out, came upstairs, and bowed respectfully, holding out a letter. Liam’s eyes, fixed on the missive, glinted icily.

　　“What’s this? Oh.” Miles, who had leaned in thinking it was a love letter from some young lady, grimaced as soon as he saw the crest on the envelope. The peony insignia, with its layers of red petals.

　　On the other hand, Liam glanced at it as if it were a common occurrence, then unfolded the neatly creased paper. His expression stayed impassive as he read the contents. However…

　　“That will be all for today.” Bidding a short farewell to his chattering friends, Liam turned and left.