Chapter 17: The Petty Man
Caesar returned to his chambers in high spirits, full of anticipation.
He believed the situation was simple, Emilia was the one in need of him as her escort, not the other way around.
It wasn't exactly honorable to take advantage of someone in a difficult position, but the thought of leading that beautiful half-sister of his into the grand ballroom, her hand resting lightly on his arm while everyone looked on in admiration…
That image alone was intoxicating.
"She has no other choice but me!"
Caesar muttered smugly before drifting off to sleep, so confident in his victory.
But the next morning shattered that illusion.
From his window, he saw a familiar carriage rolling through the gates of Moon Palace.
"What the… ? That's the Premirer family crest!"
A bucket of ice-cold water couldn't have stunned him more.
Only then did Caesar realize that he had never been Emilia's only choice.
She was beautiful, talented, and possessed an allure few could ignore. There would always be countless men vying for her favor, many of them with status and power equal to, if not greater than, his own.
"Lukas Von Premirer!"
His fists clenched so tightly his knuckles turned white, veins bulging on his neck.
"My little sister's only just returned, and that bastard's already clinging to her? He even said Milim wasn't his type! That hypocritical snake!"
Without hesitation, Caesar ordered his carriage to be prepared.
He had to confront that "old friend" of his and demand that Lukas stay far, far away from Emilia.
For someone who'd only met her a few times, Caesar's protectiveness had already crossed the line into something… unhealthy.
If only he could see it himself.
While Caesar was fuming, Emilia wasn't in the best mood either.
"What is this supposed to be?! That insufferable Duke Premirer!"
Her voice was sharp with irritation, but Helena, her head maid, looked absolutely delighted.
"Oh, but Your Highness, it's so gorgeous!" Helena's eyes sparkled as she brushed her fingers across the jewels stitched into the gown's bodice. "This embroidery alone costs more than a year of my salary! And it suits your temperament perfectly. How could you not like it?"
On the mannequin stood an elegant, deep violet mermaid gown shimmering with countless gemstones.
Beside it lay a massive chest overflowing with exquisite jewelry, and over a dozen pairs of gem-inlaid heels displayed neatly under glass.
If it were Milim standing here, she would've been squealing with delight.
"Why am I not happy? Hmph!"
Emilia's fingers trembled slightly as she fought the urge to set the entire pile ablaze with a burst of magic.
That bastard Lukas was mocking her.
Yesterday, she had told him she would send him an outfit to wear to the debut ball, and then today, he had responded by sending her an entire wardrobe fit for a queen.
He was sending a message loud and clear:
The Duke of Premirer lacks neither wealth nor taste.
"What a petty man," Emilia hissed through her teeth.
Still… she had to admit, the gown was flawless.
The color, the cut, the craftsmanship… all exquisite, likely the work of a true master tailor.
It was obvious Lukas had prepared this in advance, confident that Emilia would choose him as her escort.
Aside from that idiot Caesar, he was probably right, there really wasn't a better option.
Helena continued polishing the gemstones to a mirror sheen, completely enchanted by the gown's beauty.
Emilia watched her for a moment and sighed, half in frustration, half in reluctant admiration.
He certainly knows how to please women…
Troublesome man.
With an exasperated flick of her wrist, she tossed a small amethyst back into the jewelry box.
"Your Highness," said the young designer Lukas had sent along with the delivery, her eyes bright with excitement, "what do you think of the Duke's proposal? If you don't already have a trusted designer, you can leave the coordination to me!"
The woman's tone was brimming with sincerity, and hope. Designing matching outfits for the most talked-about pair in the capital would make her famous overnight.
"So, he's suggesting that I send back an outfit to match with him?" Emilia mused, lips curving into a sly grin.
"Very well," she said at last. "Do it. But I'll draw the preliminary design myself."
The designer accepted the sketch Emilia handed over, and her eyes widened in disbelief.
Moments later, she was practically pushed out of the room, muttering breathless praises down the corridor:
"Magnificent… genius… absolute genius!"
Emilia stood by the window, arms crossed, a wicked smile playing at her lips.
Those who dared to annoy her deserved no peace, not even the mighty Duke of Premirer.
"It's just a tiny act of revenge," she murmured to herself. "Let's hope the good Duke doesn't faint when he sees what I've designed for him."