Chapter 23

Chapter 23

The moment Eve pushed open her room door, she was met by four maids bowing respectfully. Her heart sank, and she instinctively recoiled, but it was too late; the prepared maids had already surrounded her.

Eight hands moved over her, a flurry of activity. One pair measured her waist, another assessed her skin, a third ran through her long silver hair, and a fourth massaged her back muscles, urging her to relax. Eve felt like a bristling cat, every hair on end, her limbs stiff and immobile. She dared not push away these overly familiar young women, nor could she bring herself to move.

After what felt like an eternity of torment, the four maids finally dispersed, leaving only the one who had been massaging her back. With a gentle yet firm touch, the maid guided Eve to a satin-covered high stool in the dressing room. "Please wait a moment, Miss Eve," she said with a cheerful smile. "The gown will be ready soon. The family head specifically instructed the four of us to ensure you are perfectly adorned. Tonight, you must be the foremost face among the Medici young masters and ladies."

"?" Eve wondered what Sparti was plotting. "Tonight is Cecil’s birthday banquet. Wouldn’t it be inappropriate if I were to upstage him?"

Unexpectedly, the mention of Cecil made the maid’s lips curl into a smile. Covering her mouth, she giggled, "Your dazzling presence will bring honor to Young Master Cecil. How could it be considered stealing his thunder?"

Eve: "..."

She found it hard to believe. Did Cecil lack his own prestige, that she had to enhance it for him?

But then again, why did Cecil seem so accepting of this arranged marriage by his father? According to the original story, shouldn’t he have thrown a fit, refused to compromise, faced death rather than yield, and guarded his virtue? Why did he appear more willing than she, a mere supporting character?

After much thought, Eve could only conclude that Cecil was simply a contrarian. She didn’t know what he was rebelling against, but when others eagerly sought to be his fiancée, he was unwilling. Yet, when others ignored him, he resorted to threats and inducements, insisting on cooperating with this arrangement.

...This personality was truly asking for a punch.

Having seemingly figured it out, Eve felt an itch in her knuckles. But before she could speak, a woman’s hand, like a ghost, suddenly reached out from her side, pulling her behind the changing curtain with an alluring tug. "Miss Eve, the gown is ready," the maid said with a laugh. "Please come and try it on."

Eve’s heart nearly stopped from the sudden fright. Her voice was weak as she said, "Maid sister, please don’t do that. You’re like a ghost; it’s quite scary."

"Oh! You wound me!" the maid chided playfully, then ignored her. After a moment, a more composed female voice spoke politely, "Miss Eve, please step behind the curtain." Eve was then bewilderedly led into the changing room, where several hands reached out to dress her in a soft, flowing gown. Sleeves were adjusted, a waistband tied, skirt flowers pinned, and a brooch fastened—all in swift coordination.

Once fully dressed, she was then maneuvered like a crab on a conveyor belt, tied and delivered to a platter—in this case, to the vanity mirror. She was pressed into a chair, and the calm voice said, "Miss, please close your eyes." Eve obediently complied; she had no choice. She was the fish, they the cleaver. She then heard the sound of bottles and jars being opened. The maids patted cool, faintly fragrant liquid onto her face, followed by hot compresses, then a second round of patting. As they began to apply powder, the hand paused.

A low voice beside her murmured, "The child has good skin. There’s no need for powder."

The clear voice that had earlier played the ghost said, "Then we won’t apply any. But why are her dark circles so pronounced? Let me get the beauty device to conceal the discoloration."

This isn’t dark circles; this is a symbol of my wisdom, Eve retorted inwardly. But a warm sensation flashed under her eyes, and then her face was treated like a canvas, being tapped and patted. Eve simply kept her eyes closed, letting her mind go blank in the darkness, attempting to meditate and cultivate her spiritual energy.

She didn’t know how much time had passed when someone gently placed a cold chain around her neck. The pendant was somewhat heavy, and as soon as it was on, her neck felt a substantial weight.

"Miss, please open your eyes."

Eve opened her eyes and saw in the mirror a blue sapphire necklace around her neck, adorned with three large, natural sapphires, cut into sizable pieces. Her heart skipped a beat.

No wonder it felt heavy—she was wearing billions of dollars around her neck.

The girl in the mirror wore a dark blue off-the-shoulder gown, her silver hair elegantly swept up, revealing a refined and beautiful face. She wore no heavy makeup, only a subtle, healthy blush, looking natural and graceful.

Eve rarely dressed so formally. Though the girl in the mirror was beautiful, she looked increasingly unfamiliar. Feeling slightly uncomfortable, Eve touched her neatly styled hair. The maid pointed to the plain silver ear clip on her ear and asked, "Miss Eve, this ear clip doesn’t quite match the necklace. Would you like to change it?"

"No need," Eve said, feeling quite unaccustomed to her new appearance. Staring at her refreshed reflection, she added, "This is luxurious enough. It’s fine, it’s fine. Let’s go quickly."

Before leaving, she grabbed a dark blue suit jacket to drape over her shoulders.

Her bare shoulders felt rather chilly. It’s good for young people to pay attention to joint health.

When she arrived at the banquet hall through the indoor passage, most guests had already gathered. The air was warm and fragrant, filled with the rustle of fine clothes and the gleam of jewels. Outside the Medici estate, nearly every limited-edition model of the empire’s top hover-car brands was parked, looking incredibly stylish, like a grand car exhibition.

Inside the banquet hall, natural crystals were strung together to form an expensive chandelier. The walls were engraved with defensive alchemical wards. Instead of using electric lights, alchemically enhanced candles were used for illumination. Rather than using stereo sound systems, the capital’s top symphony orchestra had been invited.

In Eve’s eyes, all of this was simply a case of having too much money and finding unnecessary ways to spend it.

Grace and Dick were each holding a plate of small cakes, secretly slacking off behind the curtains near the dance floor. Their attire tonight clearly showed they had been put through the wringer too, which gave Eve a strange sense of comfort. Pretending not to see Cecil, who was standing next to the family head in the center of the room waving at her, she lifted her skirt and headed straight for her two sneaky friends.

Seeing her deliberately ignore him, Cecil’s face immediately darkened.

In the center of the dance floor, a girl with fiery red hair and brilliant golden eyes was holding a champagne glass, lost in thought. Someone bumped her shoulder and asked with a laugh, "Isabella, what are you thinking about again?"

The person who bumped her was another tall girl with black hair and black eyes, plump cheeks, and smiling eyes. She looked very friendly and approachable.

She also held a champagne glass, but her eyes were fixed on Eve, who had just entered. "Hey, do you know the girl who just came in? Her silver hair is so pure."

Isabella Cavendish glanced at Luo Wenqing, knowing the young lady was just making conversation. She said flatly, "You don’t recognize her?"

"How would I recognize her? She must be a child the Medicis just brought back from a branch family. She’s so outstanding—if she were from the capital planet, I would definitely know her," Luo Wenqing said with a laugh.

Everyone on the capital planet knew that the Luo family’s young lady loved beautiful and luxurious things. Her compliment about the girl’s pure silver hair was actually a case of her having an ulterior motive.

She finished the champagne in her glass. A waiter moving among the dignitaries noticed and promptly brought a new glass to the guest who had emptied hers. Luo Wenqing had been waiting for this moment. She grabbed the waiter and, with a glance toward the three sitting in a row behind the curtains, asked, "Young man, who are those three from your family? They look unfamiliar."

The waiter turned to look and, seeing three silver-haired, blue-eyed young people, immediately understood. The family head had intended for those children to enter social circles tonight, so he smiled and replied, "Honored guest, from left to right, they are Miss Grace, Miss Eve, and Young Master Dick of our family."

"Thank you."

Luo Wenqing picked up a new glass of champagne from the tray, smugly preparing to walk over. She was always observant, and she wasn’t the only one who had noticed the new faces at the banquet. Seeing the Luo family’s young lady take the initiative, many others who had been hesitating to approach also changed direction.

Meanwhile, Cecil, who had just been brushed off, finally freed himself from his father’s grip, which had been forcing him to socialize. As soon as he broke free, he strode angrily toward that corner.

Luo Wenqing immediately stopped in her tracks, standing still and taking a sip of her wine without showing any emotion.

She watched Cecil say a few words to Eve. Cecil’s face turned slightly red, while Eve remained calm. Then, as if they found it inconvenient to talk in the hall, the two left through a side corridor one after the other.

As she stood up, Eve keenly noticed the gaze fixed on her. Her water-blue eyes glanced over and, seeing a black-haired, black-eyed girl who was clearly from the Luo family, she actually cracked a slight smile and actively withdrew her gaze.

Interesting.

Luo Wenqing felt as if she had been scratched by a cat’s paw, her attention completely captured. It wasn’t until she returned to Isabella’s side that she seemed to remember something important, exclaiming softly, "Ah, I remember now!"

It was clearly deliberate. Isabella had to turn her head and play along. "What did you remember now?"

"So that’s Eve Medici, the second lead tonight, the most likely candidate to be Cecil’s fiancée," Luo Wenqing said with curved eyebrows, her voice soft. "The awakenor of the S-class spiritual state Luna Butterfly. So it’s her."

When she heard "Luna Butterfly," Isabella’s right eyelid twitched slightly. However, she was always calm, and such a subtle change in expression went unnoticed even by Luo Wenqing, who was standing right beside her.

Luo Wenqing announced to herself, "I’ve decided. Tonight, I must get little Eve’s contact information. Hey, Isabella, what do you think is the best way to get to know her?"

"Whatever you want," Isabella said flatly. "But remember to share her contact with me once you get it."

"Wow, you," Luo Wenqing exclaimed, "always taking advantage of me. How annoying."

-

Cecil stood frustrated under the vine-covered path. The evening breeze carried the fragrance of precious plants, but it couldn’t blow away the anger in his heart. Equal parts angry and confused, he asked, "Why won’t you agree to be my fiancée? Don’t you know how many people are desperate for this position?"

"Since so many people want it, you can choose a fiancée from among those who are willing. There must be someone you like," Eve said lazily, having brought a glass of wine with her when she came out. She took a sip and added, "We don’t get along. Being together would only make us miserable. I really don’t understand why you insist on tying yourself to me."

This was Eve’s genuine thought. She truly didn’t understand. Was Cecil willing to ruin his lifelong happiness just to spite others by marrying a wife he couldn’t stand?

Since Cecil had called her out and stiffly said he wanted to clarify things once and for all, she decided to voice her long-standing confusion. Simple problems like this should be resolved early.

Why?

This was a question Cecil wanted to ask himself too. If it were before, being rejected repeatedly, the young master of the Medicis would never have tolerated such a thing. He only liked going against the grain; he wouldn’t sacrifice his dignity for something like this.

But hearing this question come from Eve's mouth, Cecil inexplicably couldn’t stand it. Unable to provide a reason, he could only dodge by firing back: "You have talent, I have status—it's not that I have to marry you. It's just that our union would bring greater benefits to the family. Don’t you want any of that?"

"Didn't you want a Mythological Mecha very much before? If you agree today, tomorrow the Space Button for it could land on your desk."

"What?" Eve looked at him strangely. "Have you forgotten that I’m also a Medici? Even without marriage, it wouldn’t stop me from continuing to serve the family, and the family wouldn’t stop investing in me over something like this. Besides, as far as I know, all eight stewards have Mythological Mechas, and the First Steward even has Hades, one of the Twelve Olympians."

"But you refused my father—he won’t like a junior who doesn’t fall in line…"

Eve cut him off: "—What kind of logic is that?"

No one who had read the original story understood better than her Sparti’s obsession with family interests. For the sake of those interests, he could marry the late head’s wife whom he didn’t love at all, and he could turn a blind eye to his own children fighting each other, all to calmly select the most suitable heir.

Those closely involved cannot see as clearly as those standing aside. Cecil’s understanding of Sparti was clearly still limited to that of a father-son relationship.

She tilted her head and looked at him with some pity: "Young master, your commitment to family interests isn’t as deep as your father’s. You don’t understand that kind of dedication where everything can be sacrificed for the family. In your eyes, being forced to marry a woman you don’t like is the greatest injustice. Now, your insistence on our marriage is only because you feel wronged and rejected—pretty pathetic."

"You don’t understand family politics, nor the restraint and balancing acts required of a family head. Take the Mythological Mecha, for example. To pilot one, you need at least A-level mental strength. If not me, who else could it be given to? If it were the family head negotiating with me now, he would smilingly offer me an ordinary Mythological Mecha first. Then, once I could no longer adapt to ordinary mechas, he would bring up the engagement, using one of the Twelve Olympians as an incentive, mixing carrots and sticks—not drag me out to a secluded spot in the dark to spout these self-righteous words."

—Really, it’s just basic office politics, Eve thought to herself even as she made it sound fancy. But when it comes down to it, isn’t family politics just the workplace dynamics of a family?

She patted Cecil’s cheek affectionately, like an adult dealing with a spoiled child, and sighed with a condescending tone: "You’re not young anymore; you should know how the world works. People say that among the heirs of the four great families, the Medici’s is the most immature. But everyone has to grow up eventually, right? Learn more from your father—he’s clearly a very experienced family head."

"……"

Listening to this, Cecil’s face flushed redder than his internal organs at one moment and turned as pale as paper the next. He hadn’t expected to receive such a lecture, especially from the branch family he looked down on the most. But his dark, changing expression didn’t intimidate Eve; the girl met his gaze directly and frankly.

Because she had not spoken falsely.

Not far away, it seemed someone was approaching. The sound of a snapping branch was especially loud in the eerily quiet environment. Only then did Cecil jerk like he’d been woken from a dream. He was the first to look away, but he could still feel the girl’s gaze fearlessly lingering on his face.

Suddenly, he felt incredibly childish. A wave of burning shame swept through him, making him curl inward. In contrast, Eve’s image in his eyes seemed to tower over him.

Cecil didn’t want to run into anyone else in this state of mind. He bit his lower lip, threw a dirty look at Eve, turned around, and walked away without another word.

"Sigh…"

Eve rubbed her temples and turned to walk in the opposite direction—toward where the sound of the snapping branch had come from.

The bushes rustled as they were parted. A graceful young woman in a tailored blazer emerged from the shade of the trees, casually glancing over the wheelchair stuck in a pit of dry grass and the black-haired, green-eyed young man sitting calmly in it, without a hint of embarrassment at having overheard a private conversation.

"Do you need help?"

"Sorry, did I disturb you just now?"

—They spoke simultaneously.

Eve was caught off guard by the coincidence, but Lorca was the first to react. He let out a soft laugh, lowered his head, and revealed a pale, elegant profile.

It was a gesture of vulnerability.

"I do need help, actually."

Lorca asked gently: "Miss Eve, could I trouble you to help push my wheelchair out?"

"I’m too frail—I can’t move this heavy alloy wheelchair on my own."