After the Charity Auction ended, Altair opened the "compensation gift" sent by the Queen on her way home. Inside were a pearl necklace, earrings, and a handwritten note.
"My dear Altair:"
"Please forgive me for restricting you on this special day—"
After casually glancing at the opening lines, Altair tossed the note aside and murmured softly, "A standard template letter. She truly has no sincerity in apologizing! Instead of giving me this, she might as well have given me another pearl necklace."
"No, I'm going to retaliate against her!"
On the evening of July 11, 1348, in the corridor outside a small ballroom within Sodela Palace in Bexland's Empress Borough—a room neither lavishly decorated nor extravagantly luxurious, with no ostentatious flowers and no boisterous guests—Altair slowly approached under the guidance of a servant.
She wore a pale champagne gown, its layers of gauze hanging softly like clouds, with tiny pearls and silver threads decorating the neckline and waist.
Her golden hair was arranged into an immaculate updo, adorned with a delicate pearl tiara. She looked dignified without losing a young girl's sweetness.
She stood tall, her eyes clear, every movement carrying the elegance and nobility instilled in her from childhood as a top aristocrat.
Tonight was the coming-of-age ball of Altair Sheffield, the newly elevated Earl of Loen.
However, because of the plague in the South Continent, this ball had not been held on a grand scale. There were no numerous guests, no grand orchestra—only nobles and relatives of high standing whom she was required to know. Even private friends could not attend.
When Altair entered the ballroom and came into everyone's sight, she felt greedy, jealous, possessive gazes continuously falling upon her.
Altair was neither surprised nor disgusted by this. This was precisely the result she wanted.
To retaliate