Chapter 27

Chapter 27

“Why are you meddling in my business?”

Throwing my words during our first meeting right back at me, he slowed his pace to match mine. We left the quiet, secluded trail behind us and arrived at the back of the main building, where my carriage was waiting. A servant who’d been sitting in the corner whiling away the time rushed over to meet us. They tried to take over helping me, but Isidor just smoothly walked by, bringing me to the carriage door himself.

As his body suddenly parted from mine, so did the refreshing scent that had filled my nostrils. Still processing the odd sense of loss, I was suddenly lifted into the air, my bottom softly meeting the carriage seat after only a brief moment. He’d lifted me without my permission.

“Take care,” Isidor said, holding the door casually as though nothing out of the ordinary had happened. What kind of knight just lifted a lady up while her guard was down?

Trying to calm my racing heart, I addressed him grudgingly. “I guess I owe you one.”

“Lady Deborah, you can just say thank you at times like this,” he said playfully, smiling with his pretty lips.

“Thank you... Lord Isidor,” I said slowly, staring into his eyes that were curved with his soft smile. If Isidor hadn’t bothered to meddle—or rather, be chivalrous—I’d have probably ended up kneeling before Pilav and Mia.

I’d expected him to laugh, but he looked at me strangely instead. I was alarmed to notice how big his emerald eyes had grown.

Huh? Maybe I was acting too out of character just now. “I-I was just thanking you. Why do you look surprised? I say it every now and then, once in a blue moon. It’s not easy to get a genuine thank you from me,” I rambled, trying to piece together a haphazard excuse.

“Well, I’m honored. You should go home and rest.” Isidor grinned as if he found this funny. About to close the door, he suddenly threw it open again and shoved his handsome face back inside.

I was taken aback. Wh-what in the world?

“Oh, and by the way, my lady really needs to develop better taste in men.”

The door slammed shut loudly, obscuring him from view. I had the feeling he’d said something utterly absurd to me just now, but the carriage started moving before I could gather my thoughts.

“Oh my gosh!” I tore at my hair, shame washing over me as I processed what he’d said. I wouldn’t have been so embarrassed had Pilav actually been my type, but I hated temperamental, macho types like him. And it wasn’t just me that felt that way. Pilav had always been quite low in the love interest rankings, as voted by the readers.

Why did Deborah’s taste in men have to be so different from mine? I’m not the one who likes him! Shuddering with disgust, I tossed and turned all night thinking about his words.

* * *

Deborah wasn’t the only one who had trouble sleeping that night.

“Thank you, Lord Isidor.”

Her voice refused to leave his head and Isidor clamped his eyes shut involuntarily. It had been the first time she’d said his name, and there had been something so gentle about the way she’d said it.

When he thought of her ruby-red eyes curving like a cat’s when she smiled, the strange, woozy feeling in his stomach grew even worse. In the past, he’d always met her in his gloomy Blanchard office, so today out in the real world the color of her eyes had seemed more vibrant.

As he tossed and turned in his bed, mulling over that moment endlessly in his mind, Isidor suddenly frowned.

“It seems Lady Deborah has held Lord Pilav in her heart for a very long time.”

Miguel’s words floated through his mind.

Held him in her heart? Ha! She just has poor taste in men. Frankly, I’m much better looking than him. Isidor failed to drift off. Eventually, he gave up, getting up from his bed, picking up his sword, and heading for the training grounds.

* * *

Damn it. Pilav couldn’t sleep so he was also spending the night on his estate’s training grounds. Just recollecting the verbal beatdown Isidor had given him banished all thoughts of sleep. And that wasn’t the only thing on his mind.

Why did that son of a b*tch interfere? She was insisting she’d done nothing wrong, but it was obvious Deborah was the one at fault.

“I’ll tell you for the second time now—I’m not lying. Or are you so stupid that I must repeat myself a hundred times over?”

She’d followed him around for nearly six years until he was thoroughly sick of her. So what was with that cold, dry look she’d given him? It was almost as though Pilav had been mistaken about her feelings for him all along. Is this some new ploy of hers to get my attention? Yes. That must be it. I suppose I should give her credit for trying.

He’d been so insulted and outraged, he’d completely forgotten about Mia for a second. Fuming, Pilav left the training grounds.

* * *

“I heard Lord Pilav carried Lady Mia away like she was a princess after she got hurt. Did you hear?”

“I saw it in person. But why was he carrying her?”

“Why else? It has to be because of Lady Deborah. I was wondering why she’d been so quiet this year. She really never disappoints, does she? Lord Pilav must be tired of her.”

The way Pilav had crossed the Academy grounds with the injured Mia cradled in his arms was quite the hot topic among the nobles. High society gossip had been relatively scarce lately which only made them more talkative.

Madam Ophelia seemed quite pleased with the situation, heaping praise on Mia. “If a light is to shine bright, there needs to be contrasting darkness nearby. A kind-hearted protagonist cannot be without a villain. That’s why you’re now shining brighter than ever, Lady Mia,” she rambled on in a singsong voice as she tended to Mia’s blood-covered knee.

Mia gazed out the window silently. The wizened branch that had previously sported a single bloom was now covered in white flowers.

“As we expected, involving a Seymour is proving to be effective. You’ll become much more interesting to the public than if you were just going about in those dirty, poor neighborhoods, healing the vagrants.” Ophelia poured a red liquid over the wound and it began to turn black. “Remember this, Lady Mia, the nobility are always hungry for gossip.”

Mia just smiled apathetically rather than responding.

“In any case, I suppose this means Lady Deborah will grow even more spiteful from now on.”

“I don’t know about that.”

Ophelia had told her that Deborah Seymour, blinded by jealousy, would create all sorts of trouble, therefore making Mia famous among the nobility. Mia had steeled herself for the terrible bullying that was sure to come her way, but contrary to expectations, Deborah had done absolutely nothing. In the end, Mia had been forced to get away from Pilav for a moment so she could pretend to trip right in front of her, all to get the other lady’s attention.

“What if she doesn’t harass me? She’s kept to herself so far.”

Ophelia laughed shrilly. “Haha! Very unlikely. She’s been obsessed with Lord Pilav for no less than six years. I have no doubt that she harbors a deep resentment for you. If she’s done nothing so far, it’s only because she’s been plotting.”

Mia bit her lip, nodding. Madam Ophelia had never been wrong before. Her information was always correct—she knew every major player in high society inside and out.

“Soon the stage will be set perfectly for you. The only club that Lady Deborah can choose is Omicron since she is lacking in competence, dignity, and reputation.”

“Ah...”

“Lord Pilav probably feels as though he failed you since he was unable to purchase the pink diamond. He will do all he can to see you accepted into Omicron as well.”

Which meant Mia would continue bumping into Deborah Seymour. She understood what Ophelia was getting at immediately. “I see what you’re saying.”

“The social club is important, but the spring festival will be even more crucial. In order to be named Blossom of the Year, you need to attract more attention than anyone else.”

The wound, which had turned an inky black, began to fade to nothing. Ophelia took the glass bottle and poured the remaining liquid onto the opposite knee.

“That’s why you need to focus now more than ever on cultivating your divine power to perfection, Lady Mia.”

“Oh!”

Ophelia made a deep cut in Mia’s white calf with the knife she was clutching in her hand. The blood-red liquid she’d poured over Mia’s leg seeped into the wound and Mia’s blue eyes rippled with streaks of intense black.