Luvia and Dorothy naturally stood as well. They had both heard the praise from the people around them, and Luvia did not stint on her own compliments. But her praise was not for the actors—it was for Dorothy:
"It showed the unity of the royal family, portrayed the king's kindness and approachability, and quietly slipped in a warning for young ladies to choose their men carefully. How did you come up with that?"
Though Dorothy was smiling, she did not look proud.
"Oh, please, Luvia. The story of this opera is utterly dull, and its direction and ending are painfully vulgar. Even when I was still in school, I never wrote scripts as trashy as something tossed aside on the street. I merely handed in a neat answer based on someone else's assignment. There's nothing worth praising about that. Still... it seems that by the end of this year, I finally have a chance to compete for a Kingdom Literature Award outside the popular literature category."
Luvia neither agreed nor disagreed. As Miss Writer watched the actors appear together onstage for photographs with the King, she suddenly turned to Luvia and asked:
"Shade and I are going to read the handwritten copy of the 'Summer Night Collection' later. Would you like to come? Don't stand on ceremony with us. We're all family."
The Girl with Purple Eyes raised her brows, but smiled and shook her head.
"I won't disturb you. This is your time. Have fun. Did you bring the leaves?"
Dorothy smiled, her face reddening.
"Of course I did."
The opera that had opened the banquet finally came to an official end after the group photographs. If nothing unexpected happened, that photograph would be tomorrow morning's front-page headline. His Majesty the King was, as usual, about to say a