Not far ahead, a group of white-haired elves raised their glasses in unison toward Sylvia and Shen Luolin, as if they had reached a silent agreement.
Their target was exactly them.
The brilliant crystal chandeliers in the banquet hall suddenly felt dizzying.
Sylvia felt as if she were nailed to the spot. Her mind went completely blank.
‘I’m doomed.’
She couldn’t name a single person in that group.
One couldn’t exactly blame Sylvia for her negligence. St. Helier was, after all, the academy with the longest history in elven records, and its alumni network was incredibly vast. Elves lived a long time; who knew which corner an old monster who had retired to the mountains might be hiding in?
Under normal circumstances, not recognizing someone wouldn’t be a major issue. But right now, her position as Queen was already precarious. If this resulted in a social blunder…
Cold sweat instantly broke out across her smooth back. She could clearly feel the gaze of everyone in the room sticking to her. There was curiosity, scrutiny, and… those waiting for a show.
Specifically, Rosa Rhodes.
She stood not far away, holding her glass, the “I’m waiting for the disaster” expression on her face stinging Sylvia’s eyes. As long as she was here, in front of all the nobles of the Royal Capital, if she called someone by the wrong name or said one wrong thing…
She, the Queen, would become a complete joke.
Her fingertips grew cold, and she nearly shredded the fabric of her dress.
Just then, a warm breath lazily brushed against her ear.
“The old man on the left is Duke Eldrin.”
It was Shen Luolin.
His voice was pressed extremely low, carrying the nasal tone of someone who hadn’t quite woken up, yet it acted like a stabilizing pill, thudding into her heart that was about to leap out of her throat.
Sylvia’s body stiffened, and she jerked her head to the side. The man beside her still wore those dead-fish eyes, not even bothering to lift his eyelids, seemingly focused on studying the embroidery on his formal sleeve.
If it weren’t for the lingering warmth against her ear, she would have thought it was a hallucination.
“He crippled his left leg in a war 200 years ago. Doesn’t like sweets,” the voice slipped in again. “The old man has recently become obsessed with painting stars and just published a paper. Praise his charts; say they look even better than the stars in the sky.”
Sylvia’s heart hammered against her ribs.
‘How does he… how does he know all this?!’
There was no time to think. Duke Eldrin had already approached, leading several elders. There was no way out.
Sylvia took a deep breath, putting on the impeccable smile of a Queen. She stepped forward and proactively raised her glass.
“Duke Eldrin, you look wonderful. I recently read your masterpiece; the star charts you depicted are even more brilliant than the night sky tonight.”
The old Duke’s serious poker face melted instantly. The light bursting from his eyes looked as if he had just found a long-lost relative.
“Oh? Your Majesty is also interested in Astrometry? That is… wonderful! I was just worrying about finding someone to discuss my new discovery with!”
With one sentence, the atmosphere warmed up. Sylvia’s hanging heart finally settled back into her chest. She even had enough spare energy to glance at Rosa.
The smile on Rosa’s face was already beginning to falter.
Before Sylvia could breathe a sigh of relief, a plump Marquess approached with a cheerful laugh.
“Your Majesty, you truly are well-read and knowledgeable!”
Sylvia’s nerves tightened once more. Who was this…?
“Marquess Grenville, in charge of the Royal Capital’s water system. Known for doting on his daughter,” Rowling’s voice rang out again like a professional announcer. “His daughter got married last month. Praise her dowry; say it was so vast it could loop around the World Tree three times.”
Sylvia’s mouth twitched.
‘Three times around the World Tree? Does this guy even check his facts before he starts bragging?’
However, she followed the advice, smiling as she turned to the plump Marquess.
“Marquess Grenville, you flatter me. I simply heard of your daughter’s wedding. They say the dowry list was so long that it took the royal scribes 3 days just to copy it. With such a considerate father, your daughter must surely be the happiest bride in the entire Kingdom.”
Marquess Grenville was overjoyed by the praise. His chubby face bloomed like a chrysanthemum as he repeatedly muttered, “Your Majesty praises me too much.”
From there, the event fell completely into Sylvia’s rhythm. No, it was more accurate to say it was the rhythm of her and Shen Luolin. He whispered in her ear, and she navigated the crowd with elegance.
“The one on the left is Lady Elena. Widowed for 30 years, loves hearing people praise her late husband. Mention how her husband once took an arrow for your father on the battlefield.”
“Don’t look at that old mage; he’s socially anxious. Just have a servant send over a glass of warm milk later.”
“And that one…”
Rowling’s voice was like the most precise cheat code, continuously feeding information into her ear. Names, status, achievements, and gossip… even minor, harmless habits known only to those closest to them.
She was no longer the puppet Queen being roasted over a fire. She had become the true master of the room, effortlessly displaying a monarch’s knowledge and charisma, winning over these veterans who were usually the hardest to please.
The gazes that were originally scrutinizing and critical had all turned into approval and recognition. A sense of “security” she had never felt before wrapped around her tightly.
She couldn’t help but look at the man beside her again. He still wore that lazy, indifferent expression, as if the person who had just strategized and settled a massive crisis wasn’t him at all.
This guy… what secrets was he hiding behind that face that screamed “this is annoying” and “I want to clock out”?
‘Who exactly… is he?’
While Sylvia was lost in thought, Rowling let out a lazy yawn in her ear.
“Alright, the social overtime is over. Let’s tally it up. Seven old men in total — those were extra-credit questions. Fifty gold coins per head isn’t unreasonable, right? That’s 350 gold coins. Please settle the bill.”
Sylvia: “…”
‘I knew it!’
Other than money, there was absolutely nothing else in this man’s head!
She was about to grit her teeth and say something when she caught a flash of sharp red from the corner of her eye. Rosa Rhodes’s face had become incredibly unsightly.
She glared at Sylvia, who was surrounded by the old guard like a star amongst the moons. Rosa’s nails nearly dug into her palms.
‘Why? Why does this fool always have such dumb luck? Why can she play house with a pauper and still be praised to the heavens? While I… for the sake of the family interest… have to marry an old man who could be my grandfather!’
‘It’s not fair!’
Intense humiliation and resentment gnawed at her heart. The confident, calm smile on Sylvia’s face was the ultimate mockery.
No. She couldn’t let this go. She would never allow Sylvia to step over her compromises and sacrifices to reach glory so easily!
A mad idea took shape in Rosa’s mind.
A second later, she slammed her glass down, pushed through the crowd, and strode to the orchestra’s conductor stand at the side of the banquet hall.
Under the stunned gaze of everyone present, she snatched the small baton from the conductor’s hand and spoke into the Amplification Magic Stone, her voice sharp and loud.
“Guests, please, quiet down!”
The melodious music came to an abrupt halt. Everyone’s attention was drawn toward her.
Rosa stood on the elevated platform, wearing an almost pathological, excited smile.
“To celebrate our dear alma mater’s 100th anniversary, and to celebrate our noble Queen finding her fated match!”
She paused intentionally, her gaze like a blade stabbing directly at Sylvia.
“Let us use our warmest applause to invite our noble Queen and her fiancé, who she fell for at first sight — Duke Luolin Frost Wolf — to present the first dance of tonight’s celebration!”
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