Chapter 17

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Translator: Harry Potta

Chapter: 17

Chapter Title: Rose Ball

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Olivia stared into the mirror for a long while.

The deep green satin dress, evoking fresh leaves rather than rose petals, seemed modest when still but turned daring with the slightest movement.

Its design, reminiscent of a beach gown if adorned with palm trees, featured a plunging neckline that dipped deeply between her breasts, and with every step, the skirt flared out, revealing her long legs below the slit.

"I think it might be better to cover this part a bit."

Olivia gently covered her chest with her hand and shared her thoughts with Eve, who was adjusting her attire.

"It's beautiful—why? Every gentleman at the ball will have eyes only for you."

Elaine's eyes widened in disbelief.

"I don't want to dress for men's entertainment."

"Miss Blanchett."

Eve Lauren, who had stepped back to inspect her from head to toe, placed her hands on her hips and wedged herself between them.

"I believe the most beautiful form of a human is their primal one—the way God crafted us in the beginning. I'm the person who brings out that sublime beauty, not someone who caters to lecherous gazes. I hope you realize your words have insulted me."

"If I've hurt your feelings, I'm sorry. I'm just not used to clothes like this..."

Olivia trailed off, flustered.

"Hold your shoulders back proudly. The same goes for walking. Whether you slink along or stride gracefully, your alluring legs are going to show anyway. Wouldn't it be better if they do so spectacularly?"

The designer removed Olivia's hand from her chest. She circled behind, gripped her hunched shoulders with both hands, and straightened them. Then she whispered into Olivia's ear.

"Your attitude is you."

Eve slowly turned Olivia's lightly clenched shoulders.

"There, look. How beautiful."

"!"

Eve's words, sweet as temptation, were no lie. In the mirror, Olivia resembled a sensual spirit of verdant leaves basking under the blazing sun.

"Tonight, you are the brightest rose."

Eve keenly sensed something awakening deep within Olivia.

Her cheeks, once flushed only with embarrassment, now glowed with newfound confidence, and her eyes, once clouded with uncertainty, shone with transparent brilliance.

Now it was time to put the finishing touch on her masterpiece. Eve nodded to the assistant standing beside her, and he stepped forward, opening the lid of the precious box he held.

"No way—it's the Juber collection!"

Light fragments danced dazzlingly over Elaine's gaping, awestruck face from within the box.

The necklace was intense.

And as intense as the necklace was, Olivia's face filled with concern. As Eve reached for it, she protested.

"The necklace is fine."

"You don't like it?"

Madam Lauren's polite inquiry carried the unspoken subtext: Surely not.

"No, it's not that."

"Then why?"

"It feels too much."

Such extravagant luxury was unnecessary for just one night's party. The dress and shoes she would never wear again were enough.

"It seems like too big a purchase. I don't usually indulge in jewelry anyway."

Olivia, unwilling to add a lavish image to her persona, spoke calmly to Eve.

"There's a misunderstanding. This is jewelry rented from our boutique. Anne Juber is the pride of Eve Lauren."

Eve lifted the necklace carefully with her white-gloved hand, trails of light seeming to spill from the motion.

"Won't it be too flashy?"

"I think so too."

Elaine, who had been watching silently, chimed in.

The diamond-and-ruby necklace was the one Princess Annblin had worn to last year's ball.

Elaine hadn't imagined Edgar would mobilize Britt's top designer, Madam Lauren, over Olivia's outfit issue—not to mention providing the necklace.

What on earth is that man's game?

By now, she leaned toward the idea that his intentions weren't benevolent. Otherwise, why make Olivia a target?

"My neck does feel bare, but that's too extravagant. Besides, that necklace—"

"Forgot the dress code? This necklace completes the look."

Elaine fell silent under Eve's sharp gaze.

Olivia closed her eyes as the cool touch met her nape, then opened them. The red gem falling just above her cleavage resembled a freshly bloomed rose.

Preparations for entering the ball were finally complete.

If you can't avoid it, enjoy it.

Tonight, Olivia resolved to savor the moment without minding the prickling stares around her. The thought made her heart race.

As the sun set, lively music began to flow from the Lancelot Hotel.

Descending to the lower floor with Elaine, they were escorted by the hotel staff lined up in the grand hall toward the terrace leading to the ballroom.

No matter how mentally prepared she was, Olivia couldn't help tensing at the fluttering skirt with every step in her uncomfortable attire.

She focused all her attention on graceful strides, regulating her breath with the technique Eve had taught her.

Laughter and the scent of roses grew thicker. Passing the Doric columns supporting the terrace ceiling, a rose garden illuminated by stained-glass lanterns unfolded in rapture before them.

"What do you think? Isn't it stunning?"

"It is."

Tonight, the rich floral fragrance felt especially sweet.

With all the hotel's glass doors flung open and lavish lights pouring out, the candles within colorful glass lanterns danced in the balmy spring night breeze, bathing thousands of roses in their glow.

"Shall we?"

Elaine glanced at Olivia and gave a quick wink.

Olivia nodded, lightly placing her hand on the offered arm, and descended the low steps.

The gentle spring breeze made her skirt ripple softly, revealing her long legs sheathed in silk stockings through the deep slit in a fantastical display.

At that instant, the boisterous laughter and refined conversations ceased. Only the beautiful strains of string instruments spread across the vast garden.

Carol, who had come to greet Princess Annblin, stared wide-eyed.

Associating with a bastard child, of all people.

"Looks like the harlot of Rondo is really going all out tonight."

Irritated at seeing Elaine, whom she had ousted from her circle, descending the stairs with Olivia Blanchett, Carol tossed out a barb.

"She was fawning over Marquis Lancelot at Grand Blue, too."

Her friends chimed in as she clicked her tongue.

"This is why birth matters. How soon after the divorce is she parading around like that?"

"Does that apply to me too?"

The woman paled at the princess's icy tone and bowed frantically.

"A slip of the tongue. Please forgive me, Your Highness."

Princess Annblin of the Britt Kingdom had returned home three years ago after a brief marriage to the prince of the Argent Kingdom.

Their political union had been quiet, so the sudden divorce scandal dominated the front pages of both nations' newspapers for a time, fueling public curiosity.

People buzzed endlessly about the undisclosed reasons.

The royal family's astronomical alimony payment suggested fault lay with the prince, but details remained undisclosed.

Who goes poking at the princess's sore spot?

Carol inwardly tsked at the foolish woman, glaring at her with half-lidded eyes before turning toward the stairs.

Elaine would have been perfect for this role.

She'd been too arrogant lately in vying for control of the group, so Carol had planned to humble her a bit and take her back if she bent.

But Elaine had chosen pride—and a bastard divorcee.

As Olivia descended against the hotel's dazzling lights and entered the ballroom, pathetic men puffed up their shoulders and swarmed her.

Truly pathetic.

To Carol, Olivia had nothing special.

She was simply overrated for having been the wife of the great Duke Leopold despite her illegitimate birth, magnetically drawing men's attention.

The fact that her own husband was among them justified her hatred.

"Oh my! That necklace—it's Anne Juber."

Annblin's gaze finally turned to Olivia at Carol's incredulous exclamation. A frown creased the princess's composed brow.

The woman's elegantly upswept hair framed a neckline as graceful as a deer's.

Diamonds trailed along her collarbone, ending in an intense red glow that made her skin appear even fairer. She would have drawn eyes even without the silken necklace.

"Heavens. No one around her to talk her out of it, I suppose."

The princess's ladies-in-waiting gasped.

A juicy scoop for gossip rags aimed at female readers.

They pitted women against each other—who wore it better, who suited it more—stoking vanity and rivalry.

Socialites had to be especially cautious at events.

There was no gain in needless comparisons to higher-born ladies. Latecomers shining brighter only earned resentment.

And this was exactly that scenario.

Tomorrow's tabloid headlines would likely read:

The winner was obviously Olivia Blanchett, to anyone with eyes.