Chapter 53
The entire mansion was filled to the brim with masked guests, leaving no space to even step. Drinks continually circulated, and smoke from cigarettes lingered heavily in the air. Informal dancing continued to the quickening rhythm of music. A lively gambling game was underway in one corner, while in another, couples overcome by passion disappeared behind curtains with their lips locked together.
The nobles of the capital, always thirsting for something new, wouldn’t miss such a sensational party.
The banquet hall, seemingly packed with every young noble in the capital, was fascinating to watch on its own.
So Beatrice, taking advantage of being a member of the host’s family, hid herself in a dark corner of the third-floor balcony where guests were not allowed, and observed the scenes of revelry unfolding below.
Even with faces covered by masks, it wasn’t too difficult to recognize people with distinctive hair colors or familiar features. Before she knew it, Beatrice had spotted two or three acquaintances.
Sipping Cérisier wine brought by a servant while watching the noble facade slip away was oddly entertaining. But that was all.
‘This is boring…’
At some point, unless it directly involved her family or herself, nothing managed to entertain her.
She had no interest in other people’s romantic affairs or the scandals that everyone obsessed over.
Before her marriage to Caesar, Beatrice’s acquaintances had worried about her leaving the capital. They assumed that someone who had only ever lived in the heart of the Empire would be bored to death within a month in some remote provincial territory.
But the truth was quite the opposite.
During her time living quietly in the estate, she found a sense of stability she never felt in the capital. In fact, it was the clamor and vanity of the capital she had known for twenty years that had left her disillusioned and weary.
Camilla had encouraged her to experience some kind of escape, but even having come this far, Beatrice found her thoughts returning, inevitably, to her husband.
‘I miss Caesar…’
Standing here alone, a wave of loneliness crept in. But she had no intention whatsoever of heading downstairs to forge some new connection.
What Beatrice wanted, then and now, was just one person.
Caesar Valentin, the man who had taken her heart and never returned it.
She realized that her obsession with her husband had reached an unhealthy level, but there was no stopping the current of her emotions.
What would happen if things continued like this? Would she spend the rest of her life yearning for her husband’s affection, aching with longing?
Unrequited love, when the other person doesn’t want it, has nowhere to go. It only stabbed painfully at the heart of the one who carried it.
Beatrice thought that since Freya would arrive in the capital tomorrow, she would finally have someone to confide in about this torment. Maybe what she needed wasn’t confirmation of her husband’s feelings, but the conscious act of cutting her own feelings for him away.
Perhaps because her mind was filled too much with thoughts of Caesar…
Beatrice suddenly noticed a man near the entrance of the banquet hall whose build resembled her husband’s, and instinctively stood upright from where she’d been leaning on the balcony railing.
She couldn’t see clearly due to the distance, but the man with black hair and a leather half-mask wore a simple outfit—just a twill cloak with pauldrons.
He looked just like a mercenary you might see on the street…
In that moment, Beatrice had a sharp instinct. He was her husband.
Her heart, which hadn’t stirred despite being surrounded by every kind of worldly indulgence, finally thumped with presence.
At first, it was pure joy.
But moments later, Beatrice’s chest filled with unease and doubt.
I was invited by Camilla, but why is Caesar here?
There was no way her sister, who had openly encouraged Beatrice to take on a lover, would have invited Caesar too.
Still, if he had come with someone, or entered without an invitation, no one would dare turn him away considering his status.
Beatrice’s heart now pounded from an unpleasant sense of foreboding.
To confirm whether that man was truly Caesar, she had to go see for herself.
She quickly moved toward the stairs leading to the lower floor.
***
Looking down from above, she hadn’t realized just how crowded the banquet hall really was.
She struggled to push through people drunk on wine and pleasure, forcing her steps forward.
Fortunately, the man she sought was tall enough that she could spot his position above the crowd.
After being shoved around and nearly grabbed by thoughtless men several times, it took her almost an hour to finally come face-to-face with the man in question.
“Careful.”
As she stumbled against someone’s body and was caught by a strong arm, she immediately knew.
That man was her husband.
“Oh my, darling, don’t get distracted.”
A strange woman was clinging to one of his arms, but Beatrice could still recognize that embrace.
And surely, Caesar would have recognized her too.
As Beatrice regained her balance and looked up at him, she could feel his body tense.
“You…”
“I’m sorry, but I saw him first—”
The woman interjected sharply, and Caesar, as if snapping out of it, shook her off.
“What are you doing here?”
The woman stormed off in anger, but Caesar’s gaze remained locked on Beatrice. For a moment, it felt as though time had stopped in this space.
In this place alone, it felt as though time had momentarily come to a halt, and the surroundings grew distant and blurred.
The two of them stood silently for a while, simply gazing at each other’s faces. Through the masks that concealed their expressions, they tried to discern the true emotions hidden beneath.
Regardless of the inner workings of the married couple, the night of indulgence continued to deepen.
Discussion
0 CommentsReactions
No comments yet.