16.
After many twists and turns, the travel preparations to reach the capital were finally complete. Anna had driven everyone around her to exhaustion until she was satisfied, and in the end, they were practically shoved out of the mansion—Rosetta included.
The carriage assigned to her was the third finest in the ducal household. The second finest had gone to the Duchess, who wasn’t scheduled to depart until next week, when the official social season began. Fortunately, this spared Rosetta the discomfort of traveling together with her. Rosetta happily rolled about inside the spacious carriage.
The carriage journey wasn’t particularly painful. This was partly because the road from the Bellemore estate to the capital Marcel was well-paved, but above all, because Rosetta nearly passed out and fell asleep every time she stepped into the carriage.
A routine of eating without thinking, passing out, sleeping at inns, then eating and sleeping again… Compared to the past, when she’d jolt awake at the slightest noise—be it seasickness, storms, surprise attacks, or onboard mutinies—this was unimaginably comfortable.
Naturally, her satisfaction was considerable. Especially delightful was staying at inns with soft beds and warm meals served at every mealtime. She enjoyed this lifestyle so much that she even reached the point of thinking it wouldn’t matter if the journey to the capital took a full month.
Someone shook her awake while she was sleeping with her head buried in cushions like a sickly chick.
“Miss. Please wake up.”
It was Anna. Rosetta yawned widely and stretched. Scratching her messy hair and neck with a drowsy look, she resembled nothing less than an old man who’d never worn a dress in his life.
“Another inn?”
“No. We’ve arrived at the capital. It’s time to prepare.”
Anna quickly wiped Rosetta’s face with a damp cloth and used a comb to untangle her knotted hair. After smoothing her hair with oil from her palm, the messy strands curled beautifully into place.
The Valencia Avenue in the capital was where the mansions of powerful noble families were densely packed—the very pinnacle of imperial power. It was said that if you wanted to know which families held influence in that era, you should simply walk down Valencia Avenue during the social season.
With one out of every two houses belonging to counts or marquises, the streets teemed with servants and coachmen attending to them.
Where there were many people, rumors spread just as quickly. Whether the second son of the neighboring count had used cream sauce or reduced wine sauce on his duck dish was already a topic of interest for them.
Much more so when it came to news about Lea Bellemore, this season’s most talked-about debutante.
Even a single crease on her dress would be chewed over by gossiping connoisseurs until it was utterly shredded—that much was obvious. Anna clenched her fists with a sense of mission.
At the very least, no incidents like those from the Bellemore estate should happen while in the capital. Any unpleasant rumors would distort Anna’s bright future.
The one fortunate thing was that the three ducal family mansions in the capital were located on a hill slightly apart from Valencia Avenue. Moreover, the Duchess had likely arranged only tight-lipped staff through consultation with the steward… So if they were extremely careful, they might avoid rumors like “the debutante is mad” or “she bites people.”
Anna recalled proudly that she was one of the twenty discreet servants personally selected by the Duchess from the estate. In truth, the Duchess had chosen people who wouldn’t spread knowledge of the debutante’s condition—but since Anna didn’t know this, it remained a happy thought for her.
“There. All done.”
Anna took out a small box containing dried rose powder, dipped her fingertip in it, and gently applied it to Rosetta’s lips and cheeks.
“It’s normally supposed to be mixed with water… But anyway, it looks decent enough.”
As if urging her to check her reflection, Anna flung open the carriage curtain. In the clean glass window, a pretty young woman appeared, her cheeks flushed with anticipation. Rosetta froze momentarily.
“Hey, didn’t you put way too much rose powder? My cheeks are totally—”
“P-please don’t say such things!”
Judging by how Anna avoided eye contact, she clearly thought the same. Rosetta rubbed her cheeks dubiously and looked out at the street. The carriage had just exited Valencia Avenue and was entering a gentle hill. From there, the capital sprawled below.
On both sides of the long, straight Valencia Avenue, the mansions of influential families stood in a row, glowing with splendid lights. From the main avenue, smaller alleys branched out like leaf veins. Calling them alleys was generous—each one looked like a main road in a typical rural town.
Rosetta was half-dazed with wonder. The cities she knew were port towns with white clock towers, stone roads, and overwhelming fishy odors. Some were bustling, others not—but ports generally left similar impressions: docks, taverns open all night, heavily perfumed women, and coarse-tongued sailors.
On main avenues bustling with navy personnel, you couldn’t keep your toes planted for long. If you were lucky, you might get swept up in a lavish mood, shoulder-to-shoulder with Nick, that scoundrel, to devour meat priced at 20 sol for 10 rem (about 230 grams).
Rosetta gazed down at the street packed with carriages, her eyes half-filled with awe. She was beginning to understand why fools returning from the capital always raved about its splendor with vacant expressions.
She’d never dreamed her childhood mantra—“Someday I’ll go to the capital”—would come true like this.
That ‘Ro,’ a filthy dock rat from the eastern ports, the lowest of the low, was now being treated with utmost reverence in the capital as the Duke’s daughter—this thought struck her as utterly absurd, and she giggled quietly.
“Do you see? Once we pass through that gate, it’s your mansion.”
Anna whispered softly. She tried to suppress her voice, but her cheeks were flushed—she, too, seemed to be seeing the capital for the first time.
At the end of the well-maintained road stood a massive gate made of black iron. Elegant golden engravings of lilies and crossed swords—the Bellemore family crest. Apparently recognizing the ducal carriage from afar, the gatekeepers opened the iron gate as they approached.
Soon, the carriage came to a complete stop. As Rosetta stepped out, an elegant elderly gentleman bowed to her.
“Miss. It is an honor.”
Judging by his manner, he seemed to be the estate’s steward. Wait, what? Honor? What in the world did that mean? As Rosetta opened her mouth to respond, Anna swiftly pushed her back.
“Oh, goodness, you must be so tired! Come, come, let’s go inside. Your bed must be ready.”
…Even a puppet show for seven-year-old sniffling brats wouldn’t be delivered in such an exaggerated tone. Glancing at Anna’s desperate face, Rosetta quietly raised both hands and obediently climbed the stairs.
* * *
The next morning.
Rosetta sat on the bed with her hair tangled like a magpie’s nest.
She’d rolled around in bed and pulled something—probably a cord—because seven maids had filed in, leaving her feeling overwhelmed from the very start of the day. Back at the estate, she’d only had Anna’s modest service. The capital was indeed on a different scale altogether.
The eldest-looking maid gracefully bent her knee and spoke.
“Miss. Did you cough? Were you uncomfortable during the night?”
…What? Cough? Was she supposed to cough upon waking? Rosetta faked a few coughs and nodded.
“No discomfort at all.”
“Thank goodness. Then we shall assist you with your grooming.”
After that, she was plunged into warm water and countless fragrant oils, then pulled out just as quickly. Before her body could even finish drying, something smooth like melted butter was rubbed all over her skin, followed by a careful wash of her face with lemon- and orange-scented water.
She half-expected someone to toss her into an oven next and wouldn’t have been surprised.
“Ah, ouch!”
Then, with both arms nearly restrained, her eyebrows were ruthlessly plucked. Tears welled up. Damn it, six o’clock torture. She never imagined delicate-looking maids would resort to such cruel torment.
“Neat eyebrows are in fashion in the capital these days.”
The maid holding the tweezers spoke in a businesslike tone. …Anna would’ve been better. At least she knew when to ease up. If only she hadn’t recently been taken by the head housekeeper under the guise of “discipline”… Rosetta clenched her teeth as another sharp pain shot through her eyebrows.
“Fashion or not, I’ll end up cross-eyed at this rate!”
“Shh, shh… There, there, our dear Miss, just a little more patience.”
“Ow!”
No matter how loudly she screamed, the maids didn’t back down. Truly, they were as vicious as pirates.
Damn it. In her original state, she could’ve thrown off ten or twenty of them with ease. Or rather, her body was so accustomed to pain that this would’ve barely tickled.
The problem was Lea’s fragile, delicate body—one that had never even felt a needle prick.
“Miss!”
Male lead reborn without memories — but he still falls for her.
The person he finds displeasing in this life turns out to be his cherished wife-master in previous life…
Xie Zhi and Fang Xianxing who had known each other for less than three days through a blind date sat in the same car in front of the civil affairs bureau. They had a disagreement and failed to get married.
Xie Zhi immediately took out his phone, slid through his contacts, and randomly selected the next marriage candidate.
The woman snatched his phone and hung up. Looking at his phone wallpaper, she awkwardly changed the subject: “An ancient painting, eh? It looks pretty good, it’s just that the person in the painting looks a bit like me.”
When he heard this, he sarcastically mocked her for being so delusional, completely unaware that, the person in front of him was the reincarnation of Wen Ru, the famous prime minister of Yuan Shun whom he most admired…
The female CEO who doesn’t want to get married with a divorce agreement in hand × The male archaeological researcher who will only get married if he’s sure he can get divorced
