Sabine led her into the garden where lilies were in full bloom. Amid the dense, opulent floral scent that made her head spin stood people more dazzling than the lilies themselves.
“Congratulations, Countess Jerome’s daughter.”
As a group approached, Sabine released Seo-ahh’s arm as though nothing had happened and said,
“Wait a moment.”
She stepped forward and greeted them.
“Oh, Mrs. Isabella. Thank you for coming. Why are you here so early when you usually arrive late?”
“I wanted to come earlier. My goodness, this is my first time seeing an exhibition like this. Is there anything I can help with?”
“You only need to enjoy it.”
“Ah, and this is…”
As her voice trailed off, a woman standing behind her stepped forward, holding a bundled offering. At the sight, Sabine shook her head with a troubled expression.
“You really shouldn’t do this.”
“It’s just a small token. This is a charity exhibition for the less fortunate, isn’t it? Everyone says that our future Queen has a heart as vast as the sea.”
“Ah… I’m embarrassed.”
“Please accept it.”
“Thank you. I’ll make sure it’s delivered.”
As another woman appeared and accepted the gift on Sabine’s behalf, those who had been observing Seo-ahh closely began to probe her presence with subtle curiosity.
“By the way, who is…?”
Sabine, who had turned away, looked back toward Seo-ahh. In their brief meeting of eyes, a wistful smile crossed her face. The moment that smile—one that regarded something pitiable and lacking—settled upon her, Seo-ahh understood that Sabine was exactly the person she had expected her to be.
Sabine approached and linked arms with her once more.
Nobles gathered around them like drifting clouds. Pushed back by the crowd, Abel—who had been trying to remain close—was forced away.
“She’s a friend I happened to meet today. It’s her first time at an exhibition, so I thought I’d accompany her and explain things one by one.”
“That truly sounds like you, my lady.”
“Please, go ahead.”
Though she stood among them, Seo-ahh felt utterly separated from them.
Guided by Sabine’s hand, she stepped beneath an arch woven with lilies. Those entering alongside her murmured in admiration, while those already beyond the arch converged toward Sabine the moment she appeared.
“Countess Jerome’s daughter!”
“Oh, Madam!”
“My lady, congratulations.”
“My goodness, everyone is here!”
Sabine, her shoulders trembling with delight, turned back to Seo-ahh wearing an expression of mild distress.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I need to greet them for a moment. Could you wait here?”
Her face held the shape of apology and confusion. Yet in her violet eyes was neither.
“Yes… I will.”
Sabine smiled.
With her opulent skirts swirling, she turned and disappeared into the crowd seeking her. Several of those who had surrounded Seo-ahh moved with her, like bees drawn after a flower.
Seo-ahh quietly drew a breath and surveyed her surroundings.
Large and small paintings were displayed throughout the exhibition hall, arranged like a garden. In other spaces stood sculptures whose meanings were difficult to discern. As if to affirm that entry was not granted lightly, the attire of those passing by was conspicuously refined.
Their clothing declared their social standing. In that sense, this was unquestionably a world inhabited by people of a class entirely different from any she had known before.
This was likely the world Oscar belonged to.
She searched for Abel. He had not passed her, so he must have been behind her somewhere. As she turned to look for him, four well-dressed men caught her attention.
They approached at an unhurried pace. Seo-ahh stepped aside slightly, assuming they intended to pass.
One of them shifted sideways, matching her movement.
She stepped aside again.
The man who followed her motion let out a low chuckle.
“Hello?”
The greeting was casual, almost friendly. Yet the man closed the distance in an instant, his earlier leisurely pace revealed as a pretense. As he blocked her path, the others fanned out and surrounded her.
The suddenness of it made her tighten her grip on her bag. Her heart pounded. This was not her first encounter with such attention. Even in her hometown, her unusual appearance had often marked her as an outsider with an unusual appearance. That familiarity did nothing to lessen the bewildering.
One of the young lords leaned forward and examined her face without restraint. Seeing her tense expression, he laughed.
At that sound, the others turned their scrutiny more openly toward the woman now standing alone.
Her rounded forehead, framed by wisps of soft hair, balanced with neatly shaped brows. Her exposed earlobes appeared delicate, as though they would redden easily if touched. Her straight posture contrasted sharply with the back of her hand clutching her bag so tightly it looked pitiful.
At the sight, smiles spread through the young lords’ eyes.
Those smiles sharpened into blades, pricking against Seo-ahh’s cheeks.
Her hand gripping the bag felt cold. A chill, as though the blood circulating through her body had drained to her feet, spread upward toward her heart.
“Um… because we want you to be there?”
At last, she fully understood that strange remark.
“What’s your name?”
The voice was finely shaped, almost beautiful. Yet the gaze accompanying it—laden with malice—traveled over her from head to toe.
“You’re frightening her. Ask slowly.”
Though their murmurs did not carry far, they were unmistakable to Seo-ahh, who stood within arm’s reach. Perhaps they intended for her to hear.
“May we ask your name?”
The politeness in the tone was deliberate. The intent beneath it was not.
The urge to flee rose again.
But it always returned to the same problem.
If she ran, where would she go? Her retreat had long since been cut off.
“Your face is turning red. Be courteous.”
They exchanged comments among themselves and laughed.
Seo-ahh swallowed.
“Shall we move over there and talk?”
Music drifted from somewhere distant. Elegantly dressed figures passed by. It all felt detached, as if belonging to another world.
She tightened her abdomen and slowly exhaled. Then she spoke inwardly to her faltering heart.
Endure.
If she had been afraid of something like this, she should never have crossed the sea.
“I asked for your name.”
To endure rudeness and stares?
It did not matter.
If it increased—even slightly—the chance of meeting that person, she could endure far worse.
The young lords, clustered like a swarm a swarm of bees, edged closer around her unmoving figure. Through the shifting gaps between them, their faces occasionally lifted with vulgar smiles. Seen between their shoulders, her face remained pale.
One of them leaned closer.
Until now she had endured without moving, but for the first time she stepped back.
Behind her stood another young lord.
Abel Sting, forced to the outer edge by the crowd of nobles, watched from a distance.
If this had not been a formal occasion, he knew exactly how far it would have gone.
At that moment, one of the young lords discreetly lifted his hand as though to rest it against Seo-ahh’s back.
She flinched. For the first time, she widened the distance openly. Even from afar, the bewilderment on her pale face was visible.
Abel knew too well what kind of crude impulses such gestures could awaken.
Damn it… why.
If you don’t know what to do, just stay still—why make it worse?
It was not meant to escalate this far. At most, it would have been a few humiliations directed at him. Even if it had gone further, he could have contained it within his own capacity. He would have managed it somehow.
With a hardened expression, Abel stepped forward.
A backup agent blocked him.
The agent, who had entered the exhibition hall earlier, spoke in a low voice meant only for Abel.
“You were told to wait.”
Abel did not look at him. His gaze remained fixed beyond the agent—on the woman speaking quietly among the gathered nobles.
It would have been better if she had screamed. She should already know that silence did not help.
Now more nobles, drawn by curiosity, gathered around the woman who was hemmed in by four men and unable to move. She had become more compelling than any artwork displayed in the hall.
Abel spat out his frustration in a low voice toward the agent barring his path.
“Can’t we just remove her quietly?”
“You know that isn’t possible.”
“Then—damn—how long am I supposed to stand here and watch?”
The agent studied Abel.
In his eyes, Abel wore an unfamiliar expression.
The habitual smile was gone. What remained was impatience stripped bare.
“Why are you reacting like this?”
“What do you mean?”
“Think carefully, Abel Sting. Our task is only to ensure that the woman’s life is not in danger.”
“……”
“Other than that, nothing else truly matters. You understand what I mean, don’t you?”
The agent stepped back. Abel was experienced. He would grasp the implication.
Too many eyes were present.
For the backup personnel—and for Abel, whose work depended on approaching targets under disguise—unnecessary commotion would damage everything that followed.
As the agent quietly withdrew from the exhibition hall, he glanced once more at Seo-ahh, surrounded by nobles, and muttered,
“She’s quiet, but she always finds trouble.”
Why step forward when staying still would have been safer?
Clicking his tongue, he turned his head back to the front.
Abel Sting began to move briskly towards the target.
This time, he did not hesitate.
—