At the Reingarde estate, the household was in full swing from the early hours, ensuring their young lady would be nothing short of breathtaking for the event. Celestia’s personal chambers became a bustling sanctuary of beautification.

  Late in the morning, Celestia found herself luxuriating in an expansive porcelain tub within her bathing suite. Two maids carefully poured warm milk infused with aromatic oils and scattered crimson rose petals into the bath, creating a fragrant, creamy pool. Celestia reclined against the tub’s edge, eyes closed, as the warm milk water smoothened her skin.

  ‘They say Queen Violetta used to bathe in goat’s milk to preserve her youth,’ Celestia mused, recalling a tidbit of local lore, and privately comparing it to Earth’s legends of Cleopatra’s beauty rituals.

  Either way, the effect was divine. The heat soothed her muscles, and the rich bath left her skin petal-soft and glowing.

  However, even as a maid gently massaged her shoulders, Celestia was mentally running through the schedule: after the bath, perhaps a light luncheon, nothing too heavy… her gown had a fitted waist, after all, then hours of hair styling, makeup, dressing, and finally the carriage ride to the palace by early evening.

  A soft knock at the door interrupted her thoughts. “My Lady, is the water to your liking?” came the muffled voice of Penelope, the chief maid.

  “It’s fine, Penelope. The temperature is perfect,” Celestia answered lazily, one arm draped over the tub’s rim. “I’ll soak a while longer. Ensure everything is laid out when I’m done.”

  “Of course, My Lady. The stylists will arrive within the hour.”

  Celestia hummed in acknowledgment. Good, the hair and makeup specialists from the duchy capital’s top salon were en route. She had secured the best for today, unwilling to leave any detail amiss.

  After a long, indulgent soak, Celestia finally rose from the bath. The maids wrapped her in warmed towels and helped pat her dry. As promised, the next stages were already prepared in her chambers.

  She donned a silk dressing robe and stepped into the adjoining chamber where a team of stylists awaited with bows and nervous smiles. They set to work at once. Celestia sat before her mirror as expert hands began to arrange her golden locks into an elaborate style.

  They brushed and curled her long blonde hair until it shone like spun gold. At Celestia’s request, they swept it up into an elegant hairstyle while leaving a few artful curls framing her face and cascading down one shoulder. Dozens of jeweled hairpins were inserted, tiny rubies and garnets that twinkled like embers amidst her locks, complementing the deep red of her gown.

  Next came the cosmetics. Celestia’s everyday look was already refined; a touch of powder and a hint of color was usually more than enough, but tonight warranted something extra. A cosmetician carefully applied a luminous foundation to accentuate her now flawlessly smooth skin, followed by a subtle rosy blush on her cheeks. They lined her eyes with mascara to make her red irises even more striking, adding a delicate wing at the corners and a dusting of powder. Her lashes were darkened and lengthened with a fine brush of oil-based tint. Lastly, her lips were painted a deep wine-red to match her dress, with a glossy finish that made them look plush and inviting.

  The effect was dramatic and undeniably alluring. Celestia studied her reflection and allowed a pleased smirk. Her natural beauty, the face of an enchantress, was now polished to new heights.

  While the finishing touches were being placed, Penelope oversaw the laying out of the gown and accessories. The custom dress from Madame Vernisse had arrived earlier that afternoon.

  In fact, all six had arrived, to the stupefaction of the house staff.

  Celestia only needed one tonight, of course, but she liked knowing the spares were there.

  The stylists departed with respectful bows once their work was done, leaving Celestia with her core maids to assist in dressing. Standing in the center of the room, Celestia disrobed without a trace of shyness.

  First came the delicate stockings and a matching garter, then Penelope helped her into the structured corset.

  Finally, the masterpiece itself: the dark red gown. The fabric hugged her curves from bust to hip, thanks to precise tailoring and the corset beneath. Off-the-shoulder straps of black lace sat on her upper arms, leaving her shoulders and neck tantalizingly bare. The neckline was a daring sweetheart cut, offering a generous but elegant display of her collarbone and a hint of cleavage.

  The skirt clung to her thighs, and on the left side, a high slit ran up to mid-thigh, revealing a tempting glimpse of her shapely leg and the stocking beneath each time she moved.

  Scandalous? To these old-fashioned nobles, absolutely.

  Celestia then moved to her jewelry box to wear the pieces she’d selected. She had a maid clasp a stunning necklace around her neck: a large teardrop ruby pendant with an intricate black design, an antique from her family’s vaults that matched the gown’s dramatic style.

  Elegant chandelier earrings of the same deep red stones adorned her ears. A matching bracelet coiled around her wrist in the shape of a delicate dragon biting its tail around a ruby.

  With that, she stepped into her shoes, custom red satin heels, high enough to add two inches to her height. Celestia took a few experimental steps and ensured every detail was perfect. Each movement caused the thigh-high slit to part just so, revealing a flash of leg that was neither accidental nor too vulgar.

  The maids stepped back and looked at their lady with open admiration. “My Lady... you look...”

  “Breathtaking,” Martha finished, eyes wide.

  Celestia allowed herself a satisfied smile as she regarded her reflection one final time in the full-length mirror. The woman who gazed back looked every inch the fairy-tale villainess: radiantly gorgeous, a bit fearsome, and utterly commanding.

  Femme fatalle personified.

  She turned to her awestruck maids. “Of course I do,” she replied to their unfinished compliment, arching an eyebrow. “Did you expect anything less?” The two maids quickly shook their heads.

  They were used to her supreme confidence, though tonight she had truly outdone herself.

  On a small table by the door lay an accessory Celestia never forgot to bring: an ornate folding fan. She picked it up, flicking it open with a practiced motion.

  Evening fell at last, and it was time to depart. A carriage bearing the Reingarde coat of arms rolled up to the estate’s front steps. Celestia’s parents, the Duke and Duchess, were already inside, having seen to final arrangements and security for their family’s entrance.

  Celestia made her way down the grand staircase of the manor’s entrance. The servants waiting at the bottom could not help but stare as she passed, a few forgetting themselves until a sharp glance from the head butler set them back to bowing in respect.

  Outside, a knight opened the carriage door.

  The Duke leaned out slightly to offer a hand to his daughter. As Celestia emerged, the evening light and carriage lanterns illuminated her, and she heard the soldier’s quick inhale of breath.

  Even her own father’s eyes widened briefly, though his lips quickly curved into a proud smile.

  Celestia accepted his hand and stepped into the carriage.

  Inside, the Duchess’s reaction was more pronounced. “Oh, Celestia...!” her mother gasped softly, one hand coming to her mouth in astonishment. The Duchess herself was elegant as ever in a regal gown of deep amethyst silk, but her daughter’s bold attire nearly made her forget her composure.

  Celestia settled onto the plush seat across from her parents, smoothing her skirt and casually flipping open her fan. “Good evening, Mother, Father,” she said, feigning ignorance of their wide-eyed stares.

  The Duke chuckled, “A good evening indeed! My dear, you will have the entire court at a loss for words.” He seemed delighted by the prospect. Duke Reingarde never minded stirring the pot, a trait he believed that Celestia clearly inherited from him.

  The Duchess managed to compose herself, though concern etched her brow. “Celestia, darling... are you absolutely certain about that dress?” she ventured carefully. “It’s just... well, it’s rather...”

  “Scandalous?” Celestia offered dryly, peering over the rim of her fan.

  Her mother sighed. “You will surely be the center of attention.” She paused, then added in a softer voice, “I just don’t wish for you to become the target of unkind gossip. You know how cruel some of those ladies can be.”

  “Let them talk,” Celestia replied. “They already do. I might as well give them something worthwhile to talk about.”

  The Duke let out a hearty laugh and patted the Duchess’s hand. “That’s my girl. Fearless! Remember when she wore that outrageous plumed hat to the last imperial Ball? Half the noblewomen nearly fainted, and the other half tried to copy her the week after.”

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  A hint of a smile tugged at the Duchess’s lips despite her worry. “How could I forget? Our daughter does have a flair for... making an entrance.” She looked at Celestia, eyes fond yet anxious. “Just promise you’ll be careful tonight. Please.”

  Celestia lowered her fan and reached out to squeeze her mother’s hand reassuringly. “I will be fine, Mother. Don’t worry.”

  The Duke grinned proudly while the Duchess sighed, resigning herself with a small smile.

  The carriage jolted as the coachman urged the horses onward, and their journey to the palace began.

  As they clattered through the lamp-lit streets of the capital, Celestia looked out at the passing scenery but saw little of it.

  Her reflection glinted in the carriage window: she saw those red eyes of hers again.

  After two hours of travel, the carriage eventually rolled to a halt at the palace’s grand entrance. A knight opened the door, and the Duke exited first, then helped his wife down. Celestia gathered her skirt and stepped out onto the red-carpeted marble steps of the Imperial ballroom entrance.

  Even among the trained, stone-faced imperial attendants, she noticed a few eyebrows shoot up at her appearance.

  From outside, they could already hear music from a live orchestra and the murmurs of hundreds of high-born guests. The air was filled with the glow of crystal chandeliers and the perfume of lavish flower arrangements.

  At the doors, an announcer was stationed. The Duke gave their name and a letter bearing the family crest, and the announcer struck the floor with his staff. “Their Graces, the Duke and Duchess of Reingarde!” his voice boomed.

  Celestia’s parents entered arm in arm, nodding graciously to peers who welcomed them.

  A few seconds passed. Then the announcer called out again, voice carrying across the hall: “Lady Celestia Reingarde, of House Reingarde!”

  With that cue, Celestia stepped forward and made her entrance.

  Every pair of eyes turned. Conversations halted mid-sentence as a ripple of gasps swept across the ballroom.

  Celestia held her fan half-open against the side of her face, lending an air of mystery even though everyone could see exactly who it was.

  The reaction was beyond what even she had anticipated. A stunned silence fell, broken only by the soft echo of her heels. The men’s expressions ranged from awe to unabashed admiration, while several young lords and nobles nearly dropped their glasses, and many of the ladies looked utterly scandalized.

  Scandalized, or perhaps envious; those who weren’t shooting her daggers with their eyes were looking her up and down as if to memorize every detail of this unprecedented gown.

  Celestia spotted someone who she assumed to be Lady Henrietta, an infamous gossip, gawking with her fan frozen mid-wave. Nearby, a pair of debutantes were whispering furiously; one looked positively green.

  She walked further into the room, allowing the chandelier’s light to play off the curve of her leg when the skirt shifted. Gasps hit a second peak as more people noticed the daring slit.

  Whispers erupted:

  “Is that Celestia…? What is she wearing?!”

  “That dress... It’s indecent!”

  “What audacity!”

  “She looks incredible. I’ve never seen someone so—”

  That last voice was quickly hushed by a nearby wife.

  From the corner of her eye, Celestia saw her father biting back a grin while her mother had one hand pressed to her chest, a mix of mortification and pride in her expression. Other high-ranking nobles exchanged glances, some disapproving, some intrigued.

  As the orchestra hesitantly resumed playing, she allowed the crowd to slowly return to their wits. Small conversations bubbled up again, though now the topic was undoubtedly her..

  She took a glass of champagne from a passing servant and stationed herself near a marble column, perfectly poised and aloof. With half-lidded eyes behind her fan, Celestia surveyed the throng, seeking one face in particular.

  The crown prince had not yet made his appearance, nor the rest of the imperial family.

  As expected, they would be announced last, at the height of the evening. Celestia sipped her champagne slowly.

  The time soon came. The lights at the far end of the ballroom, near a set of gilded double doors, brightened subtly. The announcer had moved and tapped his staff for attention, proclaiming the imminent entrance of the Imperial Family.

  Celestia moved a bit to get a clearer view.

  First to be announced were the princesses, in order of ascending age:

  “Her Imperial Highness, Princess Seraphina Aurelis!” A petite girl of about thirteen stepped out in a puff of peach-colored dress, bowing politely as those gathered offered gentle applause and fond smiles.

  “Her imperial Highness, Princess Juliana Aurelis!” The second princess, perhaps sixteen, walked in next, elegant in a midnight-blue gown and wearing a demure smile.

  “Her imperial Highness, Princess Maribelle Aurelis!” The eldest princess, close to Celestia’s own age, entered with grace, her emerald-green dress swirling around her. Maribelle’s eyes flickered curiously toward Celestia as she passed.

  Then, the announcer’s voice rose to a proud crescendo:

  “His imperial Highness, Prince Damon Aurelis, Crown Prince of the Empire!”

  Prince Damon emerged into view in full ceremonial attire. He was handsome, that was undeniable, tall and well-built with a confident posture. He wore a fitted white military-style suit-uniform with gold accents. His golden blond hair gleamed under the chandelier lights, and he offered a practiced princely smile as he entered, acknowledging the bows and curtsies with a nod.

  Finally, the Emperor and Empress were announced and made their stately entrance to warm applause. The Emperor boomed a short welcome to all, and the Queen beamed, looking every bit the benevolent monarch in her gold brocade gown and tiara.

  With the formalities over, the music swelled once more. The ball was officially underway, and guests began to mingle more freely again, many preparing for the first dance.

  After dutifully greeting a couple of elderly dukes and exchanging a word with his sisters, the prince began moving into the crowd, and immediately, a cluster of young noblewomen fluttered toward him like moths to a flame.

  Sure enough, within minutes, Prince Damon was surrounded by an eager bevy of admirers. Celestia’s eyes narrowed behind her fan. She noted, with irritation, that he seemed perfectly content to entertain them. The ladies giggled and curtsied, practically throwing themselves at him, and Damon responded with polished charm.

  One girl lightly touched his arm as she said something simpering; rather than stepping back, he smiled at her. Another boldly complimented his attire, and he laughed appreciatively.

  It was sickening.

  Celestia felt her hand tense. You have a fiancée, you cad…!

  Even if their engagement was arranged, even if he didn’t love her, there were still standards of decorum to uphold.

  To blatantly ignore her and flirt around right in front of the entire empire? It was insulting beyond measure.

  She expected at any moment that he would politely extricate himself and come at least greet her formally. She was waiting for it, but then, five minutes passed… and nothing.

  The first dance was beginning and couples were moving to the floor. And still, Prince Damon hadn’t so much as glanced in her direction.

  But that didn’t mean nobody glanced her way. Out of the side of her eye, Celestia caught a couple of noblewomen not so subtly eyeing her while tittering to one another. She covertly stepped in their direction and caught snippets of conversation between the two noblewomen:

  “Is it me, or has the Prince not even acknowledged Lady Celestia yet?”

  “Shh! They say His Highness finds her terribly overbearing. Perhaps he’s avoiding a scene.”

  She drained the last sip of her champagne and set the glass on a passing tray perhaps a bit too forcefully. If Prince Damon thought she would just silently accept this treatment, he was grievously mistaken.

  “Martha,” Celestia said to her maid, who had been standing at a discreet distance along the wall, “hold my fan.”

  Martha looked startled but complied at once. Celestia snapped her fan shut and handed it off. Without its concealment, one could see the full simmering wrath in her eyes.

  Celestia strode straight toward the prince’s circle. Guests began to take notice, eyes widening and whispers halting as they saw her heading towards Damon.

  Prince Damon noticed the sudden silence and looked beside him, finally locking eyes with Celestia as she came to stand before him and the cluster of ladies.

  She saw surprise flash in his blue eyes, quickly masked by a neutral expression.

  Celestia dipped into a flawlessly executed curtsy, as etiquette demanded. “Your Highness.”

  Every young lady around the prince fell silent and stepped back instinctively.

  Prince Damon inclined his head. “Lady Celestia,” he acknowledged. His tone was polite but cool, as if addressing an acquaintance. He offered no apology for not greeting her sooner, and did not even pay a single compliment on her appearance.

  ‘This is who you fell in love with?’ Celestia chastised the original.

  She rose from her curtsy and fixed him with a piercing stare. “I was under the impression,” she said in a cold voice, “that the first dance of the evening would be mine.”

  A hush fell over those nearest; even the musicians seemed to soften the volume as if to listen in. The prince’s admirers looked back and forth between Celestia and Damon, sensing a confrontation.

  Prince Damon’s jaw clearly tightened as if saying that he was annoyed at this. He gave a thin smile. “Ah. My apologies, my lady,” he said, though his tone held little apology, “but I am already engaged for this dance.”

  He gestured lightly to the brunette at his side, Lady Ameirace Marlowe, the daughter of a viscount, who looked mortified to be singled out. The poor girl gave Celestia an apologetic half-curtsy, clearly wishing she were anywhere else.

  Celestia felt something inside her snap. He had promised the dance to someone else? He didn’t even bother to make an excuse; he outright admitted he’d passed over her. The disrespect was staggering.

  Around them, an incredulous murmur spread: The Crown Prince had snubbed his fiancée again! This was the sort of scandalous social faux pas that bards would sing about.

  Celestia’s chest constricted. For a split second, humiliation warred with rage inside her.

  Time seemed to slow. Celestia saw Prince Damon begin to turn away, as if saying that it settled the matter. Dismissing her, again.

  Her hand moved before thought could catch up.

  Slap!

  A sharp crack echoed through the hall as her palm met his cheek. Prince Damon staggered back a step from the unexpected blow, a reddening handprint blooming on his fair skin.

  The entire ballroom collectively gasped. The music died with a jarring screech of a violin. Dozens of wide-eyed nobles stood frozen in shock.

  Celestia’s own hand tingled from the impact.

  Prince Damon slowly turned his face back toward her, a stunned look that looked utterly confused as to what had just happened. “You...” he started, his voice disbelieving and one hand on his cheek.

  Before he or anyone else could say another word, a soft ding chimed in Celestia’s mind. In the corner of her vision, a translucent screen flickered into existence, displaying glowing text only she could see:

  [Story Relevance: 10/100]

  [Milestone Reached!]

  [System Activation Initiating.]

  Chapter 4: "Repugnant Behavior”