Chapter 5
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Chapter 5: Delicious Sweets Are A Must
The blonde wig was styled in an intricate updo befitting a dignified crown princess, adorned with delicate mother-of-pearl ornaments.
Despite the overcast sky, the wig seemed to shimmer with a mysterious brilliance, reflecting the pale iridescence of the embellishments.
The porcelain fairness of his skin was further accentuated, though it only made the clunky appearance of his glasses all the more regrettable.
(Pique had endlessly pleaded with him to take off the glasses once the look was complete. Naturally, he refused.)
Draped in a heavy dress embroidered with motifs evoking a royal tea party—opulent yet modest enough for seated elegance—Anise fully embodied the role of the crown princess.
Rising gracefully at the sound of an approaching guest, he snapped his fan shut with a soft clack, signaling permission to speak.
“I am Monica Lavery of the Lavery Marquisate. Thank you for having me,” Monica said, bowing deeply.
With a fixed smile, he replied in kind.
“We’ve been expecting you, Lady Monica. Please, have a seat.”
“…With pleasure.”
(Her eyes look dead.)
Suppressing a mental quip, Anise lowered himself into his chair with an air of refined poise.
Monica waited until the crown princess—him—was seated before taking the chair opposite. Her gown rustled faintly as the maids began serving tea.
As he made polite small talk about the weather, Monica responded succinctly, yet without hesitation. Her voice was coolly sweet, like sugar crystals that held a faint chill before melting into the air. Her words carried clarity and confidence.
(Is she sharp-witted?)
He watched her hazel eyes, which had glimmered in the dim light the previous night. They were round and endearing in shape, lending her a squirrel-like quality, though the whites of her eyes were slightly bloodshot.
(Is she sleep-deprived? Her eyelids look swollen, too.)
Though his thoughts swirled with observations about her, he gave the appearance of being satisfied with her formalities.
“Let us enjoy some tea. I’ve prepared a blend I particularly like. Can you guess where it’s from?”
“…I’ll try.”
At his subtly challenging tone, Monica’s gaze sharpened. When he let out a deliberate, playful laugh, her brows furrowed, her reaction exactly as he had hoped.
Anise took a sip of tea, inhaling the fragrant aroma deeply into his lungs.
(Let’s hope this leads to a proper conversation.)
—The greatest concern for this tea party, held in the manor’s reception room, had been whether Monica would even show up.
Yet her handwritten RSVP had been impeccably composed, and her entrance flawless in terms of etiquette.
Though she avoided direct eye contact, her demeanor was befitting a marquis’s daughter.
(So last night’s messy display was deliberate.)
Her brass-colored bangs, unkempt yesterday, were now lightly curled and styled into a loose braid.
Her modest chestnut-brown dress, though subdued for outdoor wear, was finely tailored, with delicate lace accents adorning the neckline, cuffs, and skirt. Her minimal accessories still exudes elegance.
“How is it? Does it suit your taste?”
“…Yes, it’s lovely. It’s not from the Lavery territory, is it? It tastes like a summer harvest—very fresh and delightful.”
Anise noticed a slight relaxation in Monica’s expression, her cheeks softening almost imperceptibly.
“That’s wonderful to hear. But are you still unsure? Would you care for another cup, Monica?”
“Yes, please.”
(Stubborn to the core, I see.)
Until this tea party ended, he was the crown princess, and she was the marquis’s daughter. This was as much a lesson in courtly manners as it was a battle of wits. As he watched her every move, Anise’s keen eye picked up something troubling: her complexion was alarmingly pale.
(She has the spirit to match my provocation, but… her health is questionable. What kind of life is she living?)
Her skin was dry and rough, with dark circles under her eyes. Though her hair was oiled to mask its brittleness, her hands were sickly white, her face slightly puffy, and her dress style appeared chosen to obscure her figure.
Anise’s experience, honed under his sister’s tutelage, could spot such telltale signs of neglect in a heartbeat.
“…Your Highness, may I speak?”
Caught off guard by her sudden address, Anise tilted his head slightly and offered a soft, “Of course.”
Monica, not meeting his gaze, continued.
“Is this tea not from the Helengel territory?”
“Oh? What makes you say that?”
“…Summer harvest tea is rarely distributed widely at this time of year, unless sourced from southern regions. Given Your Highness’s access, it stands to reason this blend comes from your family’s lands. While I am no expert, I’ve heard that Helengel tea is noted for its fruity aroma and mild astringency.”
“…Correct. Well done, Monica.”
Though her expression remained grim, she exhaled softly, replying, “I’m honored.”
(She knows her territories, and she seems sharp indeed.)
Impressed, Anise deepened his smile.
“You must let me reward you. Would you like a sweet treat?”
He signaled to the maids.
This tea party had been carefully curated, with a spread ranging from common confections to the latest high-end delicacies, enough to overwhelm even the most voracious appetite.
His intent was to gauge her preferences for future reference while gathering insight for Janold’s sake as well.
“We have lemon cream pie, which is quite popular lately.”
“! Yes…!”
Suddenly, Monica’s previously blank eyes lit up. As the sugary scent of desserts filled the room, her gaze darted eagerly. Her behavior shifted entirely, resembling a small, excitable animal.
(What just happened?)
As the maids turned away, Monica’s upturned gaze met his, her lips moving as if to plead.
(Is she… begging?)
“Please, help yourself—”
“Thank you!”
Before he could finish, Monica reached for a scone, smothering it in bright red jam and taking a massive bite. She devoured it with a smile, licking stray jam from her lips before grabbing another.
One by one, she polished off scones, cakes, pudding, and the lemon cream pie, her focus entirely on the desserts.
“…Monica, you were quite hungry, weren’t you?”
Her abrupt change unsettled him, though he maintained his composed smile.
Realizing his words, Monica froze, her cheeks flushing a deep red. Embarrassment and indignation battled in her expression, though her spoon remained firmly in hand.
“Yes… to be honest.”
“Monica, starting with your family’s jam instead of the store-bought sweets shows your loyalty to the Lavery name. I sampled some myself this morning. Do you enjoy it daily, I wonder?”
As he spoke, Anise’s gaze sharpened, signaling an end to the performance.
Monica seemed to understand and hesitated, torn between her pride and the remaining pudding. With a huff, she placed the spoon down, though her plate was already empty.
(What an amusing woman.)
“Shall we hold another tea party soon, Monica? I’ll make sure the sweets are plentiful.”
Without responding, Monica stood abruptly, chair screeching. Gripping a fork, she raised it high—not at him, but at the lemon cream pie.
Cream splattered everywhere, leaving Anise’s clothes and Monica’s cheek stained.
“Annoy me too much, and I won’t hesitate to act,” she said before storming out, leaving chaos in her wake.
Anise, stunned at first, eventually burst into uncontrollable laughter, tears streaming from his eyes.
(What a scene! A rival’s dramatic line from “The Icy Knight’s Hidden Warmth”—cream and all! Janold, she’s unexpectedly entertaining.)
The lingering scent of lemon teased his senses, promising their next tea party would be just as eventful. Three days to prepare.
Romance Novel Notes: “The Cold-Hearted Knight Has a Different Face by Day and Night”
A popular love story currently trending.
The knight protagonist follows a classic trope, but it’s the villainous noblewoman rival’s antics that have become the talk of the town.
One particular scene, where she sneers while saying, “I will show no mercy,” her face splattered with blood, has gained quiet popularity among young noblewomen.