4

I lost count of how many dresses I had tried on. I was exhausted, feeling like all my energy had been drained. What annoyed me even more was that with each dress I tried on, the Duke always had something to say about it.

Seriously, what the heck is going on? Why is he suddenly my fashion stylist? Did he hit his head or something? If I have to try on one more dress, I might lose it.

"That's the last one, Your Grace," Madam Luisa said, which made me incredibly relieved. Finally! I rushed back to the fitting room to change, but my frustration grew when I heard Duke Henrick's next words to Madam Luisa.

"I'm going to buy everything she tried on."

I swear my ears practically burned at that moment. Why did I even bother trying everything on if you're just going to buy them all anyway?

Why are you doing this to me? Am I being punished for something? Is this my punishment for forcing you to marry me?

After I finished changing, I quickly left the fitting room, intending to talk to the Duke about the banquet, but instead, I was sent straight to my room. I grabbed the back of my neck, trying to calm myself. My blood pressure was through the roof.

Due to sheer exhaustion, I fell asleep as soon as I lay down on my bed. Honestly, though, what is wrong with the Duke? He's acting so strange lately.

Meanwhile, after sending Veronica to her room, Duke Henrick resumed his work, heading to his office. Ever since their return from the war, there's been a noticeable shift in how he's been treating the Duchess. On the other hand, Evander Nesta, his trusted aide, kept casting suspicious glances at him.

Evander has never been fond of Veronica. His hostility toward her was apparent even before their marriage. People have been saying that the Duchess has changed, but Evander isn't convinced. He believes that she's still up to something, waiting for the right moment to strike.

Several days passed, and Veronica couldn't shake the restlessness. She waited for Duke Henrick to summon her, but it never happened. She even tried going to him, but either he wasn't around or he was too busy with other matters. The tension built with every passing day, and just as she was starting to lose hope, the day of the banquet finally arrived.

I am currently being prepared by the maids for the banquet tonight. My dress had a stunning combination of royal blue and silver, and the style was undeniably elegant. However, the slit in the dress was so high that I had to accessorize my legs as well. The preparations started around noon, and even as the sun began to set, we weren't done yet.

Honestly, I am nervous. I know what is going to happen at the banquet, at least from Irene's perspective, the female protagonist. But as for Veronica? I have no idea what awaits me. I still have plenty of enemies there. Ugh!

After several hours, one of the maids entered to inform me that Duke Henrick was calling for me. Why didn't he come himself? They made me wear these killer silver heels. Killer because they were so high. It's been a while since I wore shoes like this, and I am sure I'll get blisters.

After a few retouches, I started walking. I didn't want to keep the Duke waiting any longer, and certainly not Evander, who I knew hated me. Psh!

When I reached the stairs, I saw Duke Henrick standing at the bottom. Ugh! He really is handsome!

I quickly looked away when our eyes met. If this had happened before, I would've been thrilled, overjoyed that he was looking at me like that. But now... I don't know. I cautiously descended the stairs, aware that I could fall at any moment. Why did they give me such tall shoes? And with this slit in the dress, it was a disaster waiting to happen. It was way too revealing—I'm pretty sure my underwear was showing.

Halfway down, it seemed like Duke Henrick finally realized and came to help me. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Evander's frown.

Hmph! I don't care about you!

---

Now that it was just the two of us inside the carriage, my anxiety doubled. This is so crazy. I wore my usual poker face and stared out the window, but deep inside, I was panicking. The silence felt so awkward, and... why the hell is he staring at me like that?! It only made me more self-conscious.

I swear, I could feel the sweat building up under my armpits. The entire ride, I did my best to avoid the Duke's intense gaze. Goodness, we hadn't even reached the venue yet, and I already felt like 50% of my energy had been drained.

While Veronica did her best to avoid the Duke's intense gaze, Duke Henrick, on the other hand, was deep in thought about her. Compared to the Veronica he had known three years ago—the one who had clung to him obsessively—the woman sitting across from him now was strikingly different. Gone was the desperate longing in her eyes; instead, he could sense that she was intentionally avoiding him.

The change was subtle, but it was there. Her posture, her gaze—everything about her spoke of distance, as if she had put up a wall that was keeping him out. He couldn't help but wonder: what had happened to her? Why had she changed so much? It troubled him, but at the same time, he couldn't quite put his finger on why it bothered him so much.

After that long and exhausting ride, we finally arrived at the palace. My surprise doubled when Duke Henrick suddenly offered his hand to help me out of the carriage. Oh right, we're married. We need to put on a show, pretending everything is fine between us—even when it isn't. Without much thought, I accepted his hand, reminding myself it was all part of the act.

Walking into the grand banquet hall felt strange. It had been three years since I last attended such a gathering. The opulence of the place hadn't changed, but the weight of all those eyes on us certainly added to my discomfort.

"Entering the hall, His Grace, Duke Henrick Audovera, and Her Grace, Duchess Veronica Audovera," the announcer bellowed, his voice echoing through the room. Could he be any louder? I tried not to roll my eyes.

As expected, the moment we stepped inside, all attention turned toward us. Or rather, toward Duke Henrick. It wasn't a surprise. With his striking features and commanding presence, paired with the fact that tonight's celebration was in his honor, he was the undeniable center of attraction.

Within moments, we were swarmed. People approached us with flattering smiles and endless greetings, most of which were directed at him. Compliments flew left and right, all with undertones of opportunistic sincerity. It was exhausting.

Sensing there was no point in lingering, I slipped away at the first opportunity. "Excuse me," I murmured with a practiced smile before distancing myself from the Duke and his admirers.

Grabbing a glass of champagne from a passing waiter, I found a quiet corner with fewer people—a sanctuary where I could observe the spectacle of pretense without participating in it. After all, social gatherings like this were a game of masks, and I wasn't in the mood to play.

It's a shame the empress couldn't attend tonight. She would've made this evening bearable. I heard her cough had worsened, which only added to my worries. I wished there was something I could do for her. Even in the novel, her illness remained a mystery. With no answers from the story and no modern medical knowledge at my disposal, I felt helpless.

Lost in thought, I barely noticed the growing commotion near the entrance. The crowd seemed to buzz with increasing excitement. What is it this time? These people are like moths to a flame—always flocking to drama.

Curiosity tugged at me, but I stayed rooted in my corner, quietly sipping my champagne.

"Entering the hall, Priestess Irene Theano," the announcer's voice rang loud and clear.My head instinctively turned toward the entrance, and there she was—the female protagonist herself, Irene Theano.

Dressed in an immaculate white gown that flowed like liquid starlight, she seemed to radiate an otherworldly aura. Her hair cascaded down her back like a shimmering waterfall, and the faintest trace of a serene smile graced her face as she entered.

There was no doubt about it. Irene Theano was the epitome of grace and beauty. It was as if she had stepped out of the pages of a fairytale. The crowd parted before her, their collective gazes filled with awe and reverence.

It made sense. In this world, Irene wasn't just a noblewoman or a beauty. She was the Priestess, a figure of divine significance, said to have been chosen by the gods themselves. She wasn't just admired—she was revered.

And here I was, standing in the corner with a champagne glass in hand, feeling like a mere backdrop to her radiance. The heroine had made her grand entrance, and the story was already shifting around her.