Perhaps it was because she was the youngest and most pampered girl in the family, leading her Imperial Father and her brothers to spoil her far too much; or perhaps the child was simply born a bit dull.
In any case, as she grew up, she felt more and more like a ‘chicken among cranes.’
As for whether this none-too-bright sister could actually manipulate the Hero using a leverage like ‘taking his virginity after a night of drinking,’ Gibran remained skeptical.
In principle, his sister lacked both the ability and the sophistication to manipulate any playboy who frequented the social circles.
However, the Hero was a blunt commoner who had never seen the world.
It was a case of two evenly matched adversaries meeting on the field; it was difficult to judge who would come out on top.
“My foolish sister,” Gibran urged with a rare sense of brotherly responsibility, “you better think this through. Once you do something like this, there is no turning back. When the matter blows up, you will have only one path left: accepting the marriage granted by our Imperial Father.”
“Can’t I just control him and order him not to let the matter get out?”
Margaret asked, still clinging to her delusions.
Gibran sighed, looking at his sister with a gaze full of pity.
“You are being too idealistic. If it doesn’t get out, how will you pressure him? By relying on his moral conscience? How long can a conscience last?”
Margaret fell into deep thought.
“So, are you truly prepared to marry him?”
Gibran could not help but test her after witnessing her serious contemplation.
Margaret immediately shook her head.
“Who wants to marry him? I’m not marrying him!”
“Then what are you doing?”
Gibran asked, stunned.
“I…”
The words left Margaret’s mouth and then stopped, because even she was confused.
Indeed, ‘What exactly am I doing?’
Initially, it seemed she just wanted to get even and overpower that commoner Hero in terms of momentum.
Later, she lost the courage to challenge him and conceived the idea of using her ‘virginity’ to control him, making him serve her so she could regain the upper hand.
And now…
“Maybe,” Margaret changed her tune again.
She did not know what she wanted to do.
Perhaps life was fundamentally muddled and chaotic, and rationality was merely an afterthought used to find logical explanations for emotions.
“At least he has more guts than you,” Gibran shrugged.
“I certainly wouldn’t dare to defy our Imperial Father’s orders. I’m not an idiot.”
Margaret pulled at the corner of her eye and made a face at her brother, her tone laced with a hint of pride.
“The Hero dares.”
After a moment of silence, Gibran made one last confirmation with Margaret.
“Is it decided?”
“Yes… make sure the methods are quiet. Don’t let him notice anything suspicious,” Margaret said seriously.
“Don’t worry. I got some high-quality goods specifically from the Seventh Demon Realm. Want to guess what it is?”
Gibran asked mysteriously.
“What?”
Margaret knew her Second Brother’s old habit of showing off and teasing, so she blinked her large eyes and put on an ignorant expression to play along.
“It’s a fallen Demon God Mark. The Seventh Demon God, the Mother of Pleasure—do you know her? Her power can even cause Heroic Spirits and Angels to fall,” Gibran whispered into Margaret’s ear, sounding very pleased with himself.
Margaret gasped.
It was a long time before she asked hesitantly in a voice as soft as a mosquito’s buzz, “A Demon God? Will… will that really not cause any problems?”
“Relax. The owner of the mark died long ago. Now, its greatest use is to add a little excitement for those who want to play a bit harder at late-night banquets,” Gibran explained, before adding, “Besides, you understand that methods capable of affecting a Hero are not easy to find in this world.”
“That’s true.”
Margaret felt quite helpless upon hearing that.
Specialists in the ‘War Sequence’ like the Hero were often tired of complex exchanges of techniques with casters of other sequences.
They preferred to cover their entire bodies in Magic Power, shielding themselves from external influences and nullifying weakening Magic that affected the body — this naturally included methods that targeted the stomach.
Even high-level magic potions would find it difficult to work on a Hero.
Using the power of a Demon God, as her brother suggested, was actually a more feasible plan.
Having decided to make her move on the Hero, Margaret moved through the crowd, approaching quietly like a lurking python.
Only when she was close did she grab the Hero, who was running around like a headless fly.
“Joen!”
Suddenly ‘attacked’ by a noble lady, Joen was startled.
Turning around and seeing it was an acquaintance, he breathed a sigh of relief.
“Miss Margaret, is there something wrong?”
He quietly broke free from Margaret’s hand and took half a step back to maintain his distance.
“What have you been running around for? Who exactly are you looking for?”
Margaret asked curiously.
“I’m looking for His Majesty,” Joen explained honestly.
“I asked His Majesty about the Dry River Territory earlier, and he told me to talk about it after the banquet. Now that the ceremony is over, I want to speak with him again.”
“So it’s just for that.”
Margaret laughed in spite of herself and shook her head.
“I suggest you don’t go.”
“Why?”
“Today is a happy day. You should be like everyone else and enjoy tonight — dancing, drinking, and listening to others’ flattery, rather than always brooding over those unlucky matters and bothering my Imperial Father’s good mood.”
Margaret reached out her hand.
Although the movement was a bit stiff, she struck a pose she considered elegant and charming as she invited him to dance:
“Come. This Princess is being merciful and will allow you to invite me for a dance. This is an honor many people couldn’t get even if they begged for it.”
Joen stared quietly at the slender hand wearing a lace glove.
After a moment of hesitation, he shook his head in refusal.
“I’m sorry, Miss Margaret. Perhaps you are right and I am being a buzzkill… but the matters regarding the Dry River Territory really cannot be delayed any longer.”
Margaret’s hand froze in midair.
The composure and pride on her face instantly solidified before turning into a blush of shame and anger.
“Then get lost! You don’t know what’s good for you!”
She jerked her hand back, turned around, and stomped away.
As soon as she returned to her original spot, she heard her Second Brother Gibran’s sarcastic tone:
“Oh — my beautiful Imperial Princess, it seems your charm doesn’t have much of an effect on your ‘fiancé.'”
Margaret’s face turned ashen.
She glared fiercely at Gibran and continued drinking, her anger still simmering.
“Don’t be in such a hurry,” Gibran soothed her slowly.
“In a few days, I will invite the Hero in the name of the Finance Minister to discuss the funding for the White Wolf Territory. At that time… I will help you act.”
“Thanks, Brother.”
Margaret’s voice softened for once, mixed with a bit of playfulness and gratitude.
“No need to thank me. I just want to marry you off quickly so you’ll stop bothering us brothers every day — when that happens, I’ll drink all night to celebrate, haha.”
The touched feeling vanished instantly.
Margaret said in annoyance, “How hateful! Am I really that annoying?”
“Yes,” Gibran nodded, sounding very convinced.
—
Meanwhile, in another corner of the banquet hall, Yuna, who was dressed up and even wearing makeup, was closely following Joen with her eyes as he moved through the crowd.
The white-haired old man drinking nearby sighed softly.
“Yuna, if you want to go, then go. Although it’s not very proper for a woman to actively invite a man to dance, he is the Hero. It’s understandable, and no one will mock you for it.”
Yuna shook her head, her expression downcast.
“No… Uncle Robert. In his eyes, I’m no longer a good girl.”
Robert sighed again and took two cups of strong liquor from a waiter’s tray.
He handed her one and drained the other himself, having long since thrown the Chapel’s ‘prohibition’ rule to the back of his mind.
He downed cup after cup, his tone carry a hint of complaint.
“I warned you long ago not to get involved in the Hero’s mess. But you wouldn’t listen. I’ve raised you for more than ten years, putting in more effort than I would for my own daughter. Would I hurt you?”
“I’m sorry… Robert…”
Yuna lowered her brows, her mood dejected.
“Tell me, what exactly happened between you two? Why has your state of mind been so wrong ever since you returned?”
Robert asked suspiciously, knitting his white brows.
“I…”
Yuna felt a bit embarrassed.
“Uncle, I’m going to tell you something, so please don’t be surprised.”
Robert grew impatient.
“Stop being so indecisive and just say it. Do you think there’s any storm I haven’t seen in all these years?”
“I think I might actually be in love with him,” Yuna said in a low voice.
“Wha—What?!”
Robert’s hand shook, and the wine cup immediately fell to the ground, shattering with a crisp *crack*.
The strong liquor splashed onto his robes, soaking a large patch, but he was completely oblivious.
He simply stared at Yuna with wide eyes, his two tufts of white beard twitching upward.
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