Chapter 20: Am I not good enough for her?

Marquess Vanessa’s mansion, reception room.

The red-haired marquess lounged on the sofa, legs crossed, utterly lacking noble poise.

Across sat Duke Nora.

“Marquess Vanessa, our first meeting?”

Pouting, Vanessa replied.

“No idea why Duke Nora honors my domain.”

“Impersonating yourself at a noble soirée—disrespectful to others. I overlook it. I just want to know—who stood in for you that night?”

Nora cut straight. No time to waste.

Or rather—seeing the real Vanessa before her, she wanted out of this domain.

She sought only the girl’s info—then leave.

“You want her details? Why?”

“Reason’s mine. Give me her info.”

Eyeing Nora closely, Vanessa’s mind birthed a wild thought. Brow raised, intrigued.

“You… wouldn’t have fallen for her, right?”

Teacup paused mid-lift. Nora silent.

Silence—admission.

Vanessa burst laughing, unladylike. Jenny, behind Nora, glared in disgust. Vanessa ignored.

Laughter fading, she teased.

“Duke Nora—one soirée, and you’re smitten? Your love’s awfully cheap.”

“Some people—loving them’s a mistake. No matter who you are.”

Nora frowned.

“My love’s worth—you don’t judge. I’m not here for lectures. Her info—now.”

“Sorry. Agreement with her. Can’t share anything.”

“Not even a hint?”

“Nothing.”

“I see.”

Rising, Nora headed out. Jenny huffed, following. Then Vanessa spoke.

“Duke Nora—one last warning. If you truly love her—give it up. You’re unworthy.”

“…Worry about yourself, Marquess. Heard Greiro family inspectors en route.”

With that, Nora left the mansion. Vanessa drained her tea. Smile gone. Face darkened.

Greiro family—her birth clan. One of world’s top houses.

Common flaw: figurehead leaders.

True power—elders.

Greiro’s inspectors—elder-sent. Goal: replace her.

Core interests threatened.

Pondering, she reached the window. Summoned magic pigeon.

…

Oracle Hall, saintess lounge.

Isabelle lounged lazily on the sofa. Elegantly watched magic feed. Nodded approvingly.

Feed showed Rose Knights in Golden Dungeon. Her “lessons”—most shed arrogance. Far more cautious.

Some so prudent—it surprised even her.

“Miss—urgent from Marquess Vanessa. For Saintess Celis.”

Renia approached, handed magic letter.

Tore open. Scanned.

Short, simple: Nora found real Vanessa. Knows that night’s was fake.

Greiro inspectors heading to replace her. They’ll pass capital. Vanessa wants Isabelle’s help.

Success—she’d owe a favor.

Isabelle set letter down. Rubbed temples.

Even without favor—she’d act.

Greiro infighting spilled to her. Vanessa replaced—Golden Dungeon access void.

Opportunists would exploit—demand from Oracle Hall.

Disrupt Rose Knights training.

Moreover—Nora couldn’t learn that night’s Vanessa was Saintess Celis.

Not in final seventeen days.

Leak—noble circles abuzz. Greiro elders notice.

Probe—learn Vanessa loaned dungeon for days, cost: soirée impersonation.

They’d rage.

Oracle saintess ties—dream for powers.

Vanessa’s act—waste to them.

They’d leverage access—court Oracle. Fail—sabotage knights’ training.

Isabelle certain—they’d stoop.

Two tasks:

One—block Greiro replacement.

Two—mislead Nora—hide identity.

Seventeen days.

Long silence. To Renia:

“Probe Greiro inspectors via capital. All info to me. Nora… play by ear.”

Nora learning truth—less urgent than inspectors.

…

Vanessa’s domain city.

Trailing Nora, Jenny shocked.

“Miss—you were right! That night wasn’t Vanessa!”

“Real one matches rumors—hatefully smug. ‘Unworthy’? Hmph. Who in this world outranks you?”

Recalling Vanessa’s words—Jenny fumed.

Her miss: noble heir. Early-twenties honorary duke. Legendary swordswoman-knight.

World over—who nobler, stronger?

Venting, Jenny glanced. Nora smiled brilliantly.

Puzzled.

“Miss—you’re not mad?”

“Mad? Why?”

“She said you’re unworthy!”

“Good news! Means she’s exalted, high status. Father won’t block my pursuit.”

Transparent teardrop earring before her. Sun through it—dazzling spots on Nora’s smile.

“…Miss, you don’t even know who—how pursue?”

“Don’t now. Soon will.”

Jenny baffled.

“How?”

“Vanessa said—unworthy. Who am I unworthy of?”

Pocketing earring, Nora grinned confidently.

“Count them: imperial elite. Future academy heads. Ancient mage tower heirs.”

“This earring—will reveal soon.”