LRAB Chapter 58
Chapter 58
“Was it Lady Redfield who prepared this?”
“It was the staff who prepared it. I just thought it was necessary to provide something for those who were thirsty. Please, don’t overthink it and enjoy.”
“Thank you for your thoughtfulness!”
The ladies each picked up a glass and bowed slightly toward me.
What’s there to thank? I only did it because I was about to faint from hunger myself.
Thanks to Natalie’s spartan-style diet, I didn’t even have the energy to hold a grudge against anyone.
The ladies, who had been slumped over like tired puppies after a long walk, regained some sparkle in their eyes. Even I felt a bit better after filling my stomach with water—at least enough to make it back home without collapsing.
One of the more energetic ladies raised her voice.
“Thank you, Lady Redfield. Thanks to you, we might be able to practice a bit more—”
“Practice more? Aren’t you all exhausted already?”
Youthful enthusiasm, perhaps?
With the mindset of someone still stuck in the late-20s grind, I looked around in disbelief. The lady who had stepped forward hesitated before responding.
“Of course we’re tired. But, as the instructor said, we have such a long way to go.”
The others nodded in agreement.@@@@
“Just memorizing the lyrics is tough enough.”
“And it’s not just one or two songs—the scales are so complicated...”
They weren’t wrong. If this performance was to be successful—or at least avoid being a disaster—it would require a lot of practice.
But the real problem is that we were given such ridiculously difficult songs in the first place!
As one lady had mentioned earlier, noble charity concerts typically feature simpler pieces. These events are less about the performances themselves and more about providing an opportunity for high society to mingle, applaud politely, and donate generously.
So why were we saddled with opera-level difficulty?
“Eek!”
A shrill scream interrupted my thoughts. The maid, who had been pushing out the empty trolley, had apparently bumped into someone. The tray clattered noisily to the floor, but the loud, sharp voice that followed drowned out all other sounds.
“Oh my, is it customary in the palace for non-nobles to just bulldoze people with trolleys?”
“I’m terribly sorry! It was an accident...”
“No, really, I’m asking because I don’t know. So? What’s the answer?”
The maid, visibly flustered, tried to move the trolley away, but the so-called “victim” stood her ground, blocking the path. Did she actually want to get run over?
I couldn’t watch this any longer and decided to intervene—not to pick a fight, of course.
I’m no good at confrontations.
“Trolleys are only allowed to pass along designated pathways. The rules are the same here as in any ordinary restaurant. However, accidents can happen if someone blocks the way. It’s important to be cautious when standing in doorways.”
“...”
“Does that clear things up? If not, please feel free to ask for further clarification.”
What I lack in aggression, I make up for in overly polite passive-aggression.
If this were a library, I’d probably get a complaint filed against me for “condescending behavior,” but thankfully, there’s no suggestion box here.
The snow-white beauty furrowed her brow.
Why? You were the one who said you were genuinely curious, weren’t you?
Her name was Pearl Snow. I recognized her as Percival’s paramour, the one I’d seen lingering in the hallway during Tristan’s recovery.
And yet, it’s nearly impossible to call him out on this.
‘That sly fox, Percival.’
At the very least, he’s reduced the workload for the Crown Princess and proposed some “improvements” for the event. From a societal perspective, he’s technically done his job.
If anyone dared to accuse him of using the ladies to spotlight his lover, the sycophants would simply say something like, “The stage hasn’t even been set yet—why worry so early?”
And if Percival himself were to respond with something like, “Surely you’re not envious of an entertainer receiving attention? You’re here to focus on the charity, aren’t you?”—there’d be no comeback.
I could see it all playing out already.
He’s the epitome of a smarmy middle manager who plays politics like a pro.
Damn it.
I thought villains like him didn’t show up in romance fantasy novels.
“Pearl Snow types are so typical, it’s almost endearing...”
One of the ladies next to me flinched. “Wh-what? Endearing?”
“...Never mind.”
The group eventually resumed practicing, though the mood had noticeably soured after Pearl’s brief visit. The practice session fizzled out not long after.
That was a relief to me—I was so hungry I felt like I might collapse.
“Thank you for your efforts...”
As the ladies passed me on their way out, some murmured quietly.
“What you said earlier was refreshing, Lady Redfield. Thank you.”
“I only did what I could.”
Here, I had the slight advantage of being older than most and holding a relatively high status as a fiancée to royalty.
But confronting the main culprit, Percival? That was out of the question.
‘I’m not even a princess yet, and he’s my future husband’s brother.’
That was my limit.
But still...
I didn’t want to keep watching these young ladies, no older than their late teens or early twenties, looking so disheartened.
As the last lady was leaving, she turned back to me.
“Lady Redfield, are you staying?”
“Yes. I have a quick errand to run in the palace.”
“Then I’ll see you at the next practice. And, of course, it’d be lovely to meet you at a tea party as well. The last hunting competition was so enjoyable, after all.”
After she left, I looked down at the sheet music in my hands. The melody was already complex, but the lyrics were even harder to memorize.
“This won’t be easy.”
I didn’t want to just accept this as it was.
Then, an idea came to me.
“Which direction is the palace library again?”
Books might hold the answers I needed.
Asking the maids for directions, I headed toward the library.
The thought of visiting the library for the first time in a while lifted my spirits.