White Tower District, Tulip Club.
This club had always been open only to members. Its location and privacy were both excellent, and its service was attentive and meticulous. Many nobles from the Empire's upper echelons liked to hold salons here.
At that moment, the entire club was brightly lit.
The whole building housing the club had been booked. People came and went in the second-floor hall, where nobles in elaborate attire conversed quietly, occasionally letting out laughter. Waiters placed glasses filled with amber liquor on exquisite low tables.
Rather than bright gas lamps, the interior used specially prepared candle arrangements.
Fragrance had been mixed into the candles. During the day, it might have seemed too rich, but in the dim, intimate atmosphere of the salon, that sweetness was just right. Crawford lounged on a sofa furnished with velvet cushions, listening to the people around him offer monotonous compliments on his clothes, his taste, and even his hairstyle. An inexplicable irritation welled up inside him.
His handsome face could be called perfect, enough to set countless noblewomen's and society ladies' hearts fluttering, but his overly sinister eyes and somewhat ostentatious attire spoiled that beauty.
He and Third Prince Sidney were twins, yet they were utterly different.
Fate seemed to have played a cruel joke, pouring all the strength, courage, and talent into Sidney, leaving only a miserly handful of scraps by the time Crawford's turn came.
Ever since childhood, Sidney had always drawn people's amazement. Whenever his exploits were mentioned, people's eyes would widen.
What surrounded Crawford, however, was always this hollow, deliberate, even somewhat perfunctory praise.
To his ears, it sounded more like silent mockery.
"I hear that young master Elliot is coming tonight too."
Crawford tilted his ear toward them.
Elliot?
He had heard the name. The heir to