The scent of sweet cream in pears tickled the tip of one’s nose. Marron glacés piled up like jewels on top of florentines, which were placed like decorations on silver trays, glistened like gems, and the rich scent of sherry poured into fancy glasses filled the air.
Fruit tarts topped with honeyed apricots and raspberries looked so sophisticated enough to melt one’s eyes. The surrounding area was decorated with coveted roses carefully made with marzipan.
Viscountess Sievest reached out over a tray to see the work of the new patissier, who was rumored to have been stolen by the house owner, Countess Débonnaire, from Viscountess Fareau, but changed her mind at what had just been moved onto her lap. In order not to spoil the rare and precious lace sample, she set down a glass of sherry on the table, and her curious eyes lit up.
“How exquisite! If I had not heard of it in advance, I would have truly thought that this was made out of cobwebs. I have heard that ‘The Snow Queen’ is magnificent, but I never imagined it would be this beautiful.”
She gave a hearty exclamation as she stroked the finest lace, which was smooth all over, with her fingertips. She was as fashion-conscious as any other noblewoman, but it was still a rare chance to see such a luxurious work.
Fur and knitted fabrics were noted as Kayediv’s specialties, but most items of this level were offered as gifts to the court, and only a few were available on the market. Madame Chantelle, a well-known clothier in the capital, Michèle, quietly showed off her outstanding acumen with a modest smile.
“As you may know, the most famous of Kayediv’s knitted works is ‘Nights of a Thousand Days,’ made by a maiden before her wedding to adorn her veil. However ‘The Snow Queen’ is a more dignified work. It is a design that can only be used by noblewomen of aristocratic families.”
The Northern Country was a country with long nights. Furthermore, in the winter, one had to be stuck inside one’s house for months. In order to survive the long nights of winter, the noblewomen of the Northern Country weaved lace.
“‘The Snow Queen’ was a special work made by particularly talented people to show off their skills. Therefore, each pattern is extremely delicate and unique. If you look closely, you can see that none of them look the same, like snowflakes.”
Madame Chantelle’s eyes shone covertly as she lowered her voice dramatically as if she were exchanging a secret note in this part.
“To tell the truth, one cannot even dare to buy or sell these items in the Northern Country. Not that they have any need to since it is not as if they are poor nuns there. They rarely give it to a precious friend or relative, or even send it out of their house.”
“How did you get such a precious item?”
“I was lucky this year. I received it as a gift. My husband, who died a few years ago, was a trader, so our family has been acquainted with a Kayedivian for a long time now. He visited as part of the entourage of envoys this time and brought some gifts. One of them is this lace. It is a precious article that is hard to find, but it would be a waste if I were to use it for myself, which is why I am showing this to you all. This sort of an item is more suitable for people of the right class.”
Madame Chantelle, once again, laid out her usual fibs to increase the value of her goods. If that were true, Madame Chantelle’s Kayedivian acquaintance would be included in the entourage of envoys every year regardless of nationality, but Viscountess Sievest, ignorant of international affairs, did not know that.
She stroked the lace with an extremely covetous look and felt troubled. The price of the roll of lace offered by Madame Chantelle was equivalent to silver of the same weight. The Viscountess, who could not afford to buy an excessively expensive lace because she had quite a lot of gambling debt, and had recently bought diamond earrings she had been eyeing for a while, put down the sample with a hand full of regret.
Madame Chantelle took the item in an elegant manner and handed it to the owner of the house, Countess Débonnaire. Countess Débonnaire, reclining on a long chair in a loose gown without a pannier, carefully looked at the lace placed in front of her again and tilted her head.
“It is exceedingly pretty, but I have no idea where to use it. It is too delicate to attach to a pannier, is it not?”
“You need not worry about that because it is made of the finest raw silk imported from Shaak. It can be attached to a pannier or used as a decoration for corps à baleine or engageante. Oddly enough, Countess Patrí used it for a chemise. It is the most beautiful and expensive chemise I have ever made.”
Countess Débonnaire was quite surprised to hear that she had only made a chemise with the ‘The Snow Queen’. Countess Patrí was considered to be the most beautiful woman of the time and was even the Emperor’s favorite concubine, so she could enjoy such luxury, but likewise, Countess Débonnaire was also in a position where she had never been short of money before, so her pride took offense to that inwardly.
Ktf Jbecafrr’ ojatfg kjr gfjiis obcv bo tlr bcis vjeutafg tf tjv ujlcfv ogbw tlr atlgv klof jcv ifoa jc fcbgwber vbkgs obg tfg, jcv fnfc tfg fz-teryjcv, ktb tjv qjrrfv jkjs fjgis jcv kjr ribk-klaafv, tjv lctfglafv delaf atf obgaecf.
“Jbwf ab atlcx bo la, P vb cba tjnf jcsatlcu ab qea bc ktfc P ub ab yfv. Vtjii P wjxf j ubkc bea bo la?”
Countess Débonnaire spoke languidly and squeezed the lace with her fingertips. She didn’t want it to look like she was copying her, but it was unbearable to be inferior to a woman who was only the daughter of a Baronet.
Madame Chantelle lowered her head politely, hiding her triumphant countenance.
I cannot believe a lace so expensive that one cannot even carelessly wear for casual wear is being used for sleepwear!
Viscountess Sievest had no choice but to observe the conduct as if it were someone else’s business and worked hard not to show her boiling jealousy. She lifted the wine glass he had put down again, but her eyes, which were round like half moons, were as sharp as the tip of a sword.
“Oh, I almost forgot. The dress that I ordered two weeks ago, can I get it this week? There is a sudden gathering that I must attend, but I have nothing to wear.”
The Viscountess rinsed her mouth with sherry and spoke in a calm tone as if nothing had happened. The sudden petulance of the Viscountess Sievest put Madame Chantelle in trouble as she had intended.
It was not a laundress’ apron, but a noblewoman’s evening dress, that too which should be suitable enough to be worn to a social gathering in the middle of the season, and so, it was a demand that was impossible, both physically and time-wise.
However, despite being a first-class clothier, Madame Chantelle was a mere commoner and could not give a negative answer to the well-known Viscountess Sievest, who was noted for her eccentricity. What made Madame Chantelle the best so far in the capital’s turbulent fashion world was that she responded with satisfactory results to any demands from her customers.
“That dress was to be adjusted for the Marquise of Bertin’s annual ball, was it not? If you wear that this time, what will you do for the Marquise’s ball?”
Madame Chantelle asked carefully on the outside as she tried her best not to refuse directly.
“Fortunately, there is still some time left for that. I will get a new dress to wear there.”
“Would you truly be fine with that? The Marquise of Bertin’s annual ball is no small event.”
Thankfully, it wasn’t Madame Chantelle who questioned the Viscountess, but Miss Bruel, who had only been listening to the three of them so far.
Miss Bruel was a relative who was entrusted to Countess Débonnaire and was a cousin by a degree of kinship. Though she was related to the wealthy Countess, she was orphaned at a young age and had no dowry, so she could not get married and was nearly thirty.
She, who had managed to maintain her dignity as a lady while being a companion of her cousin, the Countess, was originally a timid person and not particularly good at anything. The fact that such a person came forward and asked the question meant that Viscountess Sievest’s demand was unexpected for her too.
It was not at all a stretch to say that the Marquise of Bertin’s annual ball was a really important event. The only party regularly attended by figures of the Duke of Benoist, one of the most prestigious families of the Estina Empire, but who lived almost solitarily, was the annual ball held by the current Duke’s sister, the Marquise of Bertin. Therefore, it was treated as the most prestigious event with the exception of the imperial family’s banquet.
It was difficult to receive the invitation itself, and if one were to attend in an unbecoming outfit, one was likely to be criticized, so there were many things to prepare for.
The Countess Débonnaire had ordered a new dress for the ball a month in advance. Miss Bruel, who was relatively low in status, was not even invited.
“What else can I do? That is just how it is.”
“There was a gathering set this week that you must attend? Why can I not remember anything?”
Countess Débonnaire tilted her head curiously and questioned Viscountess Sievest’s intentions. Though their financial conditions were very different, their position in high society was not much different from each other. They were quite popular among those of the same class as their families and in high society itself, but they were just as insignificant in the imperial court due to their weak political support, so they were able to interact with each other without any burden. As such, they also had a hidden competitive spirit, so they could not tolerate being behind each other even in the smallest of things.
“Hohoho, dearie me. It is not a gathering important enough for you, a Countess, to care. You know how unusual my curiosity is, right? It is that very curiosity of mine that did not let me miss this opportunity.”
“That makes me even more curious. What kind of gathering is it?”
“It is the salon of Viscountess Gagnon. I will be attending that gathering this week, Countess.”
“Viscountess… Gagnon?”
Countess Débonnaire blinked her big eyes at the unexpected words.
Was it that important to attend Viscountess Gagnon’s salon to the point where she was even prepared to mess up the Marquise of Bertin’s ball?
That couldn’t be the case. Although Viscountess Gagnon was a relative of the Marquis of Carbo, she was not of a particularly influential family. Since the family governed the gateway region near the capital, they had quite a bit of wealth, but other than that, they were no different from other small and medium-sized aristocratic families.
Rather, if you think about it, wasn’t there even an atmosphere of scorn due to the legendary incompetence of the previous Viscount or the Viscountess’ circumstances?
To the best of her knowledge, no matter how much she thought about it, there was no room for understanding the behavior of Viscountess Sievest. But for that very reason, the Countess was compelled to intuit that there was something she did not know.
“Oh my, that salon… I mean no offense, but, that place is not for someone like you to set foot in? I know it is a place where ‘old friends’ come and go as if it were their own home.”
Miss Bruel, having been under the care of the Countess for a long time, was a person she needed at times like this. Miss Bruel quickly grasped the Countess’ intentions and took up a question she could not ask directly.
In high society, information meant influence. Countess Débonnaire, whose pride had been bruised by the fact that she was one step behind Viscountess Sievest, took a step back from the conversation and sat down with a disinterested look.
“It would normally be so. However, I think this gathering would be a little different. According to my secret sources, there will be an extremely special person attending the salon of Viscountess Gagnon this week.”
Viscount Sievest leaned forward as if telling a secret, and whispered in a low voice. Miss Bruel, who had lowered her upper body involuntarily at her secret action, tilted her head.
“Special person?”
“‘The Lady of Balustre’.”
“Oh!”
“No, in this case, I may have to say ‘The Man of Ballustre’. Or what else? There must be a suitable title for men, too.”
‘The Lady of Balustre’ was usually a metaphor for the Emperor’s paramour, who could not be officially revealed. It was also an idiom that referred to the women one would meet at night and could not openly favor, such as courtesans, married women, and low-ranking ladies-in-waiting. The name itself was related to court etiquette that when the doors of Balustre are closed after the Emperor’s bedtime ceremony, what happens inside must never make its way out.
That is why, in high society, Baron Doe, who was recently found naked in the Emperor’s bathroom, was called by the same name. The reason why he couldn’t overtly be shown affection was the same, and the Emperor didn’t seem to want to acknowledge him officially.
“Oh, this is hard for me to say out loud, but it is something I heard while passing by, and while I am not aware of the details… do they not call him ‘mignon’?”
Miss Bruel, clearly a spinster, asked with a flushed face. Viscountess Sievest shook her head with a smirk at her naïve attitude.
“Of course not. In any case, the other person is of Balustre, so you cannot call him that blatantly. Besides, would it not be unreasonable to call him that?”
Mignon was what a nobleman’s paramour was called, and it was mainly used for cute and lovely boys. Just as the mention of a courtesan would evoke the image of a bewitching and beautiful man with a voluptuous body, the word mignon would evoke the image of a pretty boy with delicate limbs and rosy cheeks, so it was a really unbefitting name for ‘that’ man.
Moreover, as the Viscountess said, it was difficult to openly act like one knew his identity as there was a customary law in the court stating that ‘the Emperor’s lover cannot be publicly mentioned until His Majesty himself acknowledged that status.’
Of course, he was not mentioned at official events, but it was undeniable that man was the hottest topic in the current high society.
The interest in the Emperor’s new lover was so intense that even the unprecedented case of the murder of a lady inside the court was put on the back burner. Baron Doe, unable to raise his head after being caught in a secret love affair due to Count Charmille’s over-loyalty, stayed away from people’s eyes for nearly two weeks, but the scandal about him did not die down.
This incident was too dramatic that it was inevitable. It was also surprising that the scrupulous Ebroin V was discovered to be in a relationship that could prove to be his weakness, but of all things, wasn’t his partner one of the parties to the most recent scandal involving the court, and even the ex-husband of the lady who was murdered that day?
Power and sexual desires, politics and murder, and even the mysteries involved. It was hard to find the origin of such a sensational scandal even in the capital’s high society, where there was a lot of gossips.
The scent of sweet cream in pears tickled the tip of one’s nose. Marron glacés piled up like jewels on top of florentines, which were placed like decorations on silver trays, glistened like gems, and the rich scent of sherry poured into fancy glasses filled the air.
Fruit tarts topped with honeyed apricots and raspberries looked so sophisticated enough to melt one’s eyes. The surrounding area was decorated with coveted roses carefully made with marzipan.
Viscountess Sievest reached out over a tray to see the work of the new patissier, who was rumored to have been stolen by the house owner, Countess Débonnaire, from Viscountess Fareau, but changed her mind at what had just been moved onto her lap. In order not to spoil the rare and precious lace sample, she set down a glass of sherry on the table, and her curious eyes lit up.
“How exquisite! If I had not heard of it in advance, I would have truly thought that this was made out of cobwebs. I have heard that ‘The Snow Queen’ is magnificent, but I never imagined it would be this beautiful.”
She gave a hearty exclamation as she stroked the finest lace, which was smooth all over, with her fingertips. She was as fashion-conscious as any other noblewoman, but it was still a rare chance to see such a luxurious work.
Fur and knitted fabrics were noted as Kayediv’s specialties, but most items of this level were offered as gifts to the court, and only a few were available on the market. Madame Chantelle, a well-known clothier in the capital, Michèle, quietly showed off her outstanding acumen with a modest smile.
“As you may know, the most famous of Kayediv’s knitted works is ‘Nights of a Thousand Days,’ made by a maiden before her wedding to adorn her veil. However ‘The Snow Queen’ is a more dignified work. It is a design that can only be used by noblewomen of aristocratic families.”
The Northern Country was a country with long nights. Furthermore, in the winter, one had to be stuck inside one’s house for months. In order to survive the long nights of winter, the noblewomen of the Northern Country weaved lace.
“‘The Snow Queen’ was a special work made by particularly talented people to show off their skills. Therefore, each pattern is extremely delicate and unique. If you look closely, you can see that none of them look the same, like snowflakes.”
Madame Chantelle’s eyes shone covertly as she lowered her voice dramatically as if she were exchanging a secret note in this part.
“To tell the truth, one cannot even dare to buy or sell these items in the Northern Country. Not that they have any need to since it is not as if they are poor nuns there. They rarely give it to a precious friend or relative, or even send it out of their house.”
“How did you get such a precious item?”
“I was lucky this year. I received it as a gift. My husband, who died a few years ago, was a trader, so our family has been acquainted with a Kayedivian for a long time now. He visited as part of the entourage of envoys this time and brought some gifts. One of them is this lace. It is a precious article that is hard to find, but it would be a waste if I were to use it for myself, which is why I am showing this to you all. This sort of an item is more suitable for people of the right class.”
Madame Chantelle, once again, laid out her usual fibs to increase the value of her goods. If that were true, Madame Chantelle’s Kayedivian acquaintance would be included in the entourage of envoys every year regardless of nationality, but Viscountess Sievest, ignorant of international affairs, did not know that.
She stroked the lace with an extremely covetous look and felt troubled. The price of the roll of lace offered by Madame Chantelle was equivalent to silver of the same weight. The Viscountess, who could not afford to buy an excessively expensive lace because she had quite a lot of gambling debt, and had recently bought diamond earrings she had been eyeing for a while, put down the sample with a hand full of regret.
Madame Chantelle took the item in an elegant manner and handed it to the owner of the house, Countess Débonnaire. Countess Débonnaire, reclining on a long chair in a loose gown without a pannier, carefully looked at the lace placed in front of her again and tilted her head.
“It is exceedingly pretty, but I have no idea where to use it. It is too delicate to attach to a pannier, is it not?”
“You need not worry about that because it is made of the finest raw silk imported from Shaak. It can be attached to a pannier or used as a decoration for corps à baleine or engageante. Oddly enough, Countess Patrí used it for a chemise. It is the most beautiful and expensive chemise I have ever made.”
Countess Débonnaire was quite surprised to hear that she had only made a chemise with the ‘The Snow Queen’. Countess Patrí was considered to be the most beautiful woman of the time and was even the Emperor’s favorite concubine, so she could enjoy such luxury, but likewise, Countess Débonnaire was also in a position where she had never been short of money before, so her pride took offense to that inwardly.
Ktf Jbecafrr’ ojatfg kjr gfjiis obcv bo tlr bcis vjeutafg tf tjv ujlcfv ogbw tlr atlgv klof jcv ifoa jc fcbgwber vbkgs obg tfg, jcv fnfc tfg fz-teryjcv, ktb tjv qjrrfv jkjs fjgis jcv kjr ribk-klaafv, tjv lctfglafv delaf atf obgaecf.
“Jbwf ab atlcx bo la, P vb cba tjnf jcsatlcu ab qea bc ktfc P ub ab yfv. Vtjii P wjxf j ubkc bea bo la?”
Countess Débonnaire spoke languidly and squeezed the lace with her fingertips. She didn’t want it to look like she was copying her, but it was unbearable to be inferior to a woman who was only the daughter of a Baronet.
Madame Chantelle lowered her head politely, hiding her triumphant countenance.
I cannot believe a lace so expensive that one cannot even carelessly wear for casual wear is being used for sleepwear!
Viscountess Sievest had no choice but to observe the conduct as if it were someone else’s business and worked hard not to show her boiling jealousy. She lifted the wine glass he had put down again, but her eyes, which were round like half moons, were as sharp as the tip of a sword.
“Oh, I almost forgot. The dress that I ordered two weeks ago, can I get it this week? There is a sudden gathering that I must attend, but I have nothing to wear.”
The Viscountess rinsed her mouth with sherry and spoke in a calm tone as if nothing had happened. The sudden petulance of the Viscountess Sievest put Madame Chantelle in trouble as she had intended.
It was not a laundress’ apron, but a noblewoman’s evening dress, that too which should be suitable enough to be worn to a social gathering in the middle of the season, and so, it was a demand that was impossible, both physically and time-wise.
However, despite being a first-class clothier, Madame Chantelle was a mere commoner and could not give a negative answer to the well-known Viscountess Sievest, who was noted for her eccentricity. What made Madame Chantelle the best so far in the capital’s turbulent fashion world was that she responded with satisfactory results to any demands from her customers.
“That dress was to be adjusted for the Marquise of Bertin’s annual ball, was it not? If you wear that this time, what will you do for the Marquise’s ball?”
Madame Chantelle asked carefully on the outside as she tried her best not to refuse directly.
“Fortunately, there is still some time left for that. I will get a new dress to wear there.”
“Would you truly be fine with that? The Marquise of Bertin’s annual ball is no small event.”
Thankfully, it wasn’t Madame Chantelle who questioned the Viscountess, but Miss Bruel, who had only been listening to the three of them so far.
Miss Bruel was a relative who was entrusted to Countess Débonnaire and was a cousin by a degree of kinship. Though she was related to the wealthy Countess, she was orphaned at a young age and had no dowry, so she could not get married and was nearly thirty.
She, who had managed to maintain her dignity as a lady while being a companion of her cousin, the Countess, was originally a timid person and not particularly good at anything. The fact that such a person came forward and asked the question meant that Viscountess Sievest’s demand was unexpected for her too.
It was not at all a stretch to say that the Marquise of Bertin’s annual ball was a really important event. The only party regularly attended by figures of the Duke of Benoist, one of the most prestigious families of the Estina Empire, but who lived almost solitarily, was the annual ball held by the current Duke’s sister, the Marquise of Bertin. Therefore, it was treated as the most prestigious event with the exception of the imperial family’s banquet.
It was difficult to receive the invitation itself, and if one were to attend in an unbecoming outfit, one was likely to be criticized, so there were many things to prepare for.
The Countess Débonnaire had ordered a new dress for the ball a month in advance. Miss Bruel, who was relatively low in status, was not even invited.
“What else can I do? That is just how it is.”
“There was a gathering set this week that you must attend? Why can I not remember anything?”
Countess Débonnaire tilted her head curiously and questioned Viscountess Sievest’s intentions. Though their financial conditions were very different, their position in high society was not much different from each other. They were quite popular among those of the same class as their families and in high society itself, but they were just as insignificant in the imperial court due to their weak political support, so they were able to interact with each other without any burden. As such, they also had a hidden competitive spirit, so they could not tolerate being behind each other even in the smallest of things.
“Hohoho, dearie me. It is not a gathering important enough for you, a Countess, to care. You know how unusual my curiosity is, right? It is that very curiosity of mine that did not let me miss this opportunity.”
“That makes me even more curious. What kind of gathering is it?”
“It is the salon of Viscountess Gagnon. I will be attending that gathering this week, Countess.”
“Viscountess… Gagnon?”
Countess Débonnaire blinked her big eyes at the unexpected words.
Was it that important to attend Viscountess Gagnon’s salon to the point where she was even prepared to mess up the Marquise of Bertin’s ball?
That couldn’t be the case. Although Viscountess Gagnon was a relative of the Marquis of Carbo, she was not of a particularly influential family. Since the family governed the gateway region near the capital, they had quite a bit of wealth, but other than that, they were no different from other small and medium-sized aristocratic families.
Rather, if you think about it, wasn’t there even an atmosphere of scorn due to the legendary incompetence of the previous Viscount or the Viscountess’ circumstances?
To the best of her knowledge, no matter how much she thought about it, there was no room for understanding the behavior of Viscountess Sievest. But for that very reason, the Countess was compelled to intuit that there was something she did not know.
“Oh my, that salon… I mean no offense, but, that place is not for someone like you to set foot in? I know it is a place where ‘old friends’ come and go as if it were their own home.”
Miss Bruel, having been under the care of the Countess for a long time, was a person she needed at times like this. Miss Bruel quickly grasped the Countess’ intentions and took up a question she could not ask directly.
In high society, information meant influence. Countess Débonnaire, whose pride had been bruised by the fact that she was one step behind Viscountess Sievest, took a step back from the conversation and sat down with a disinterested look.
“It would normally be so. However, I think this gathering would be a little different. According to my secret sources, there will be an extremely special person attending the salon of Viscountess Gagnon this week.”
Viscount Sievest leaned forward as if telling a secret, and whispered in a low voice. Miss Bruel, who had lowered her upper body involuntarily at her secret action, tilted her head.
“Special person?”
“‘The Lady of Balustre’.”
“Oh!”
“No, in this case, I may have to say ‘The Man of Ballustre’. Or what else? There must be a suitable title for men, too.”
‘The Lady of Balustre’ was usually a metaphor for the Emperor’s paramour, who could not be officially revealed. It was also an idiom that referred to the women one would meet at night and could not openly favor, such as courtesans, married women, and low-ranking ladies-in-waiting. The name itself was related to court etiquette that when the doors of Balustre are closed after the Emperor’s bedtime ceremony, what happens inside must never make its way out.
That is why, in high society, Baron Doe, who was recently found naked in the Emperor’s bathroom, was called by the same name. The reason why he couldn’t overtly be shown affection was the same, and the Emperor didn’t seem to want to acknowledge him officially.
“Oh, this is hard for me to say out loud, but it is something I heard while passing by, and while I am not aware of the details… do they not call him ‘mignon’?”
Miss Bruel, clearly a spinster, asked with a flushed face. Viscountess Sievest shook her head with a smirk at her naïve attitude.
“Of course not. In any case, the other person is of Balustre, so you cannot call him that blatantly. Besides, would it not be unreasonable to call him that?”
Mignon was what a nobleman’s paramour was called, and it was mainly used for cute and lovely boys. Just as the mention of a courtesan would evoke the image of a bewitching and beautiful man with a voluptuous body, the word mignon would evoke the image of a pretty boy with delicate limbs and rosy cheeks, so it was a really unbefitting name for ‘that’ man.
Moreover, as the Viscountess said, it was difficult to openly act like one knew his identity as there was a customary law in the court stating that ‘the Emperor’s lover cannot be publicly mentioned until His Majesty himself acknowledged that status.’
Of course, he was not mentioned at official events, but it was undeniable that man was the hottest topic in the current high society.
The interest in the Emperor’s new lover was so intense that even the unprecedented case of the murder of a lady inside the court was put on the back burner. Baron Doe, unable to raise his head after being caught in a secret love affair due to Count Charmille’s over-loyalty, stayed away from people’s eyes for nearly two weeks, but the scandal about him did not die down.
This incident was too dramatic that it was inevitable. It was also surprising that the scrupulous Ebroin V was discovered to be in a relationship that could prove to be his weakness, but of all things, wasn’t his partner one of the parties to the most recent scandal involving the court, and even the ex-husband of the lady who was murdered that day?
Power and sexual desires, politics and murder, and even the mysteries involved. It was hard to find the origin of such a sensational scandal even in the capital’s high society, where there was a lot of gossips.
