Chapter 27: The Art of Intimidation

Aurora charged back into her bedroom, barricading the door with a stool before throwing herself onto the bed. She buried her face in the pillow and let out a series of muffled grumbles.

Cry?

What a joke.

Me, cry?

I was cursing!

The soft bedding absorbed most of her fury. She lay there, staring at the pillow, slowly calming down as she began to organize her thoughts.

First, curse Ed Dad.

That guy was utterly cowardly, hiding behind the banner of bigger picture!

I mean, come on, you’re a real-power border marquis—what are you afraid of? If it comes to it, just raise an army and fight!

Aurora rolled over and stared at the bed canopy, silently cursing Ed from head to toe.

After finishing, she sighed and started to piece things together again.

From that quarrel just now, she had roughly figured out the situation.

The Happy Water smuggling line wasn’t just about low-level black market dealers; above them was the Queen herself. That meant the House of Hermes knew about it, and likely even participated.

These things, if brought to light, would benefit no one. The King and Prime Minister couldn’t publicly pursue the Queen’s family, so they opted for a graceful under-the-table exchange: you don’t investigate, I don’t make trouble.

And one of Ed’s bargaining chips was clearly: keep your daughter in check, don’t let her dig this hole any deeper.

At least until the House of Hermes gets out safely.

Aurora thought this over and added a cold evaluation in her mind.

‘Dirty politicians.’

Just like those upper-class folks in the Resident Evil movies who thought they had everything under control but ended up eaten by zombies—stupid, and stupidly self-righteous.

Based on her investigation before the ambush under the church, Happy Water spread through the lower classes of the royal capital at terrifying speed.

In the morning, the first bottle appeared in the hands of dockworkers near the Saint River port.

By evening, it was in the hands of soldiers at the Right Bank city gate.

Every day, hundreds or thousands of people got hooked on Happy Water. If this dragged on for a year or two, half of Fran City would be addicted.

Those who didn’t use it but profited from it, those who provided protection and took a cut—they’d fill every corner of Frania, from paupers to high officials.

At that point, would the King and Prime Minister still have the resolve and capability to eradicate Happy Water?

Clearly not.

Lin Zexu put it clearly: ‘If we continue to treat it with indifference, then in a few decades, the Crown’s territory will have no soldiers to defend against enemies, and no silver to pay the troops.’

So this matter must be investigated to the end!

She sat up, tossed the pillow aside, and made up her mind.

Just then, there was a knock at the door.

“Milady.”

Balian’s voice.

Aurora grabbed the pillow and rubbed it vigorously over her face. She took a deep breath, trying to look like she hadn’t just been sobbing into the pillow—she wasn’t crying, she was cursing, two different things entirely.

She kicked the stool away from the door, pulled it open, and glared up at Balian.

“What do you want?”

Balian’s expression was calm as he said, “I’ve been thinking. Milady makes a good point. This matter can’t just be dropped. I support you.”

Aurora stared at him for two seconds.

She wasn’t sure if he was telling the truth—Balian’s face had never revealed anything. His black eyes were as calm as a deep well, impossible to read.

‘This guy has ambition, has ideas.’

‘Would he deceive me?’

But that wasn’t something to worry about right now.

“What do you want?”

“A guest has arrived, Milady. Perhaps you should freshen up first?”

Aurora followed his gaze down to her clothes.

Grease stains, bloodstains, a full set of grime from the battlefield. Her gloves were so discolored she couldn’t tell their original color—she thought they were yellow.

She hadn’t even noticed she’d dirtied a large patch of the bedspread!

Dressed like this, she couldn’t even meet guests. If she went out on the streets, the city watch would stop her as a suspicious person.

“Go attend to them,” Aurora said.

“Take Vapgis with you.”

Aurora turned and walked to the wardrobe, opening the door and staring helplessly inside.

She detested wearing dresses, so she had few clothes. Even fewer suitable for formal occasions. She rummaged randomly for a while but couldn’t make up her mind.

Balian didn’t go to attend to the guest as ordered.

Instead, he walked over to Aurora, scanned the wardrobe, and pulled out a neatly folded gown.

He knew her closet better than she did.

“How about this one?” he said. “His Lordship had it made for you to wear at banquets, but you’ve never once worn it.”

Aurora shot him a glance.

“Stay away from my wardrobe.”

“Yes.”

She took the dress from him and waved her hand dismissively.

“Leave my room and attend to the guest!”

“Yes.”

Aurora felt that something about Balian had changed, but she couldn’t put her finger on it.

Still, attending to this guest—definitely from the Guild—was more important.

The Guild had failed in its attempt on her life, and now they were sending someone to grovel and appease, but inevitably they’d try to bluff.

She couldn’t be intimidated by them.

She had to make the Guild fear her.

Her actions today had been entirely coincidental. The Guild dared to strike at her on the spot—that meant they weren’t afraid of her or the Marquis’s household.

Ask yourself: the Queen sometimes goes out to play—would the Guild dare to make a move on her?

In the end, it’s all because of that deadbeat dad!

If you’re a high noble but don’t act like one, of course people will look down on you!

‘They think I’m a country bumpkin!’

She needed to scare them, put on some noble airs. A proper marquis family couldn’t let them think little of them.

At the very least, she had to make them feel that the Marquis’s household wasn’t a bargaining chip to be sold off, but a reliable partner.

Staring at the dress in her hand, Aurora formed a plan.

Meanwhile.

Balian led the guest to wait in the hall.

The visitor wore a hood pulled low, a mask over their face, wrapped from head to toe. They sat steadily, occasionally tapping the armrest of the chair with a fingertip, as if testing its quality.

This person hardly spoke, and when they did, their voice was deliberately disguised. From the sound, only that it was a female—impossible to tell who.

Vapgis stood nearby, sneaking glances, but couldn’t discern anything. She withdrew her gaze and stared blankly at the tea, bored.

The wait dragged on, and the visitor grew impatient.

“In noble circles, they say Lady Aurora is straightforward. Now I see it’s true.” She stood up and looked around. “This is the Marquis’s reception hall? Quite… modest.”

It sounded like praise, but every word was a dig.

Calling the Marquis’s residence shabby and rustic.

Finally, a maid came from the inner hall and softly announced, “Milady is ready. Please follow me.”

Balian rose, gave the guest a slight nod, and led her inside.

Aurora had prepared a grand performance for her guest.

The moment the reception hall doors swung open, a wave of old-money historical gravity washed over the visitor.

No lamps were lit, only a row of slender white candles on a candelabra, their flames burning silently, bathing the room in a dim, hazy glow. Dark wooden shelves lined the walls, holding a few exquisitely crafted bottles; the candlelight shimmered in fragmented patterns on the glass.

Thick dark curtains blocked out all outside noise, giving the room a suffocating silence.

In the corner, a slender figure played the violin.

Blue hair, fox ears, a silver thin-strapped gown with a deep V-neck and high slit shining with sequins in the candlelight. Juliet pressed the violin to her shoulder, eyes closed, her expression incredibly focused. The melody from the strings was low and resonant, carrying a solemn air reminiscent of Italian opera films, echoing slowly through the room.

She alone created the effect of an entire symphony orchestra.

The Godfather (Finale)

And in the center of the room, a Chesterfield chair stood firmly at the heart of the candlelight.

Sitting in it, legs crossed, a lazy and relaxed posture.

Golden curls were styled into an elegant bun, interspersed with gold hair chains. A few stray strands fell by her ears, complementing a pair of ruby earrings that glowed deep red in the candlelight. Her eyes were lightly dusted with pale pink shadow, her lips the color of cherry blossoms just beginning to bloom, yet her expression was nonchalant, as if she might make anyone think twice before speaking.

Around her neck was a velvet ribbon embroidered with the family crest in lace and gold thread. Two transparent straps extended from her shoulders, framing the curve of her collarbone along with the lace trim of her strapless gown. She wore pure white lace gloves, her skin visible through the cutouts.

The black strapless fitted gown with an open back clung to her figure, the waistline perfectly cinched. The gold family crest on the side shimmered faintly in the candlelight. The skirt fell like ink-black silk to her ankles, suddenly blooming into a circle of pure white roses around the hem. White high heels peeked out from among the flowers, the tips adorned with a gilded rose, shyly revealed.

Aurora sat there—solemn yet radiant, noble yet restrained.

She raised her hand, signaling Balian to seat the guest.

The music continued.

The visitor paused for half a minute at the threshold before making a move.

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