* * *
Sylvian guided Countess Holt to the parlor.
The gathering had been set for three hours, considering Sylvian’s stamina.
After returning from his last gathering, he had gone straight to sleep that night, and as a result, Zeroth had refused to allow a longer event.
Three hours was neither too long nor too short—it was just right.
But Sylvian still wished he could have hosted until dinner.
“I’m curious to see how the greenhouse has changed.”
“Haha, don’t expect too much.”
Countess Holt smiled brightly as she looked at Sylvian’s face, thinking once again that she had done well to step forward and help the duchess first.
As they chatted in the drawing room about recent events, the guests gradually arrived.
Elizabeth, who was destined to become the highest-ranking woman among them, arrived last.
Sylvian escorted her with utmost courtesy, and as they made their way to the glass greenhouse where the noble ladies had gathered, Elizabeth found herself unable to take her eyes off him.
Not just her, but every noblewoman invited to the duke’s residence that day would remember the elegance he exuded.
“You look truly… magnificent today, Your Grace.”
While Sylvian had gone to greet Elizabeth, the remaining noblewomen had already begun their conversation.
“I know he’s an Omega, but don’t you think he’s becoming more and more charming by the day?”
“That’s right. When he’s with the Duke, he looks delicate, like someone who needs protection.”
But seeing him alone like this—he was an incredibly handsome young man, enough to make hearts flutter.
“Honestly, we didn’t think this way last time, did we?”
“But today, there’s something about his outfit and demeanor that’s just… exhilarating, isn’t there?”
At that, the noblewomen burst into laughter, exchanging knowing glances as if chastising themselves for their frivolous thoughts.
Sure, they had husbands, but wasn’t it still refreshing to see a young man like him?
They eagerly awaited the duchess’s return to the greenhouse.
When Elizabeth was finally seated, Sylvian rose and bowed gracefully.
“Thank you all for accepting my invitation.”
Unlike before, there were no accidental bursts of pheromones or clumsy missteps.
His face, slightly flushed, hinted at how much effort he had put into perfecting his etiquette.
The noblewomen couldn’t help but nod in approval.
Sylvian’s eyes curved into a charming arc as he took in their admiring gazes.
Captivating people wasn’t all that difficult.
All he had to do was show them his flaws first—then grow beyond them so completely that his past self would become unrecognizable.
At his silent signal, the maids began serving tea.
His gestures and movements were exact replicas of Zeroth’s.
“The last gathering was so enjoyable, and I wanted the chance to meet such wonderful people again, so I arranged this invitation. I hope you will all find it to your liking.”
As the maids finished filling the cups, Sylvian smoothly introduced the tea and the accompanying desserts.
His effortless explanation left the noblewomen in awe.
Was this really the same duchess who had once been so inexperienced?
Their eyes widened in astonishment.
At times, his gaze darted around, betraying a hint of shyness, but overall, he carried himself impeccably.
Had the Duke hired a proper etiquette instructor for him?
His transformation was impressive.
“Does the tea suit your taste?”
Elizabeth responded with a pleased smile.
“It’s wonderful. The greenhouse is warm, and the flowers are lovely.”
She lightly patted the back of Sylvian’s hand.
For someone the same age as him, she sure smiled like a mother.
Sylvian concealed his mixed feelings and returned her smile.
“I tried the dessert you recommended last time, and it was absolutely delicious.”
With that, he fully immersed himself in the conversation, speaking with an earnest enthusiasm as if determined to reciprocate the goodwill shown to him.
“Oh my, really?”
“Yes. I even met Lady Nefer, the Marquis’s daughter, while I was there.”
Sylvian’s expression brightened.
She was stunning—so breathtaking that if he had ever been attracted to women, he might have been tempted.
“Oh my, did you speak with her?”
“Yes, she was very kind.”
‘Her?’
‘Kind?’
The conversation took a strange turn, and the noblewomen exchanged glances.
Of course, Sylvian was well aware of Charlian Nefer’s infamous temper.
He had witnessed her cursing out a young baron the moment she stepped into the shop.
But with him, she had acted with perfect decorum.
Well, if someone got cursed at, they probably deserved it.
“It seems she has a good impression of you, Your Grace.”
“Yes. In fact, I’ve invited—ah, I mean, Karl, or rather, the Marquis Rooster, to dinner as well.”
That… might be a problem.
The noblewomen froze for a moment, then their eyes widened at how casually Sylvian had addressed the Marquis by name.
“The Marquis allowed you to call him by name?”
“It just happened that way. Karl—um, I mean, he’s helped me a great deal since I was inexperienced.”
The noblewomen absorbed this new information.
The duchess had already established connections with both Marquis households.
And—surprisingly—two men who were usually at odds with each other seemed to be showing interest in him.
“Did Lady Nefer approve of your invitation to the Marquis Rooster?”
“She said she was very much looking forward to it.”
Sylvian was looking forward to it, too.
Watching Karl and Lady Nefer’s expressions shift whenever the other’s name was mentioned made it seem like their relationship wasn’t as bad as it appeared.
It was clear now—Nefer’s household wanted to establish ties with the Graham duchy.
And Sylvian had no reason to push away someone who wanted to grow closer.
Besides, no matter what their relationship truly was, Lady Nefer was the perfect way to get under Karl’s skin.
And wasn’t feigned innocence the greatest weapon of all?
Even as the noblewomen looked at him in shock, Sylvian simply smiled radiantly.
“To receive an invitation to the Duke’s formal dinner—how enviable.”
“You’ll invite us as well, won’t you?”
The women vied for his attention, eager to secure their own places at the event.
There was no need for them to stir up trouble when neither the Marquises nor their daughters had given Sylvian any explicit warning against it.
“Of course. I’d love to get to know you all better.”
At his dazzling smile, his guests’ eyes gleamed.
An invitation to the Duke’s household opened many doors.
Several noblewomen swallowed hard, eager to offer whatever information they could in response to Sylvian’s inquiries.
“There will be a charity bazaar hosted by the Countess next week. It supports orphanages and features artwork from various artists sponsored by noble families. Some of the pieces are truly remarkable.”
“That’s right. Many gentlemen attend as well, making it a great opportunity to meet a variety of people.”
Observing Sylvian’s growing interest in social events, the noblewomen realized he was gradually increasing his participation in high society.
The Duke hadn’t taken him to the Imperial banquet for no reason.
Maybe his past absence from social circles had truly been due to poor health.
Even now, he seemed a little tired, didn’t he?
Sensing an opportunity to capture the duchess’s attention, they eagerly brought up various rumors they had heard from other gatherings.
“Speaking of which, I heard Viscount Nertian has been quite active lately.”
One noblewoman couldn’t resist mentioning a topic she knew the duchess would find interesting.
The others looked at her in shock, but she hadn’t forgotten how Sylvian had once shown interest in the viscount’s affairs.
Rumors suggested that Viscount Nertian had started mingling with wealthy patrons and frequenting gambling halls—but for now, it was just speculation.
“My father?”
“Yes. And it seems your mother has been doing much better, thanks to you, Your Grace.”
‘Ah, so Zeroth’s deadline is up.’
Sylvian widened his eyes in apparent surprise.
“I should visit my mother soon.”
“Your Grace, as per etiquette, the lower-ranked party should visit the higher-ranked one first. It may be best to wait.”
The noblewoman gently advised him, and Sylvian, feigning newfound understanding, expressed his gratitude.
* * *
