RBSP 1

Chapter 1

The Society’s Punching Bag, I’m Retiring!

“Good heavens, just look at that vulgar state.” “Oh my. Whatever happened to the fabric on the back? Surely, that mighty House of Gloucester hasn’t started pinching pennies on the price of a dress.” “Isn’t it obvious? The Junior Duke of Windsor shows absolutely no intention of finalizing the marriage. Shouldn’t she try to seduce him with her body at least?” “As trashy as her own father.”

The noble ladies whispered without even attempting to hide it. Their gazes were all fixed on one person: me, Gloria Gloucester, who—four years after the century’s engagement—still hadn’t received a proper proposal even at twenty-two.

By now, gossip like this didn’t even sting. I had been a little shocked and hurt during my first debut season in society, but… this was already playing out for the third time. What’s the use of getting hurt?

Go ahead, chatter away. I’m going to live my own life!

I scanned the finger foods laid out on the table. What would taste the best? After a brief deliberation, I picked up the sweetest-looking macaron and popped it straight into my mouth. The pink macaron instantly dissolved, leaving only sweetness behind. Life is this bitter, yet macarons are this sweet.

“What can you do when there’s no proper adult in the household? Didn’t they say the Countess is only a year older than the Junior Duke?” “How many wives does the Count have by now? The third? The fourth?”

The Count of Gloucester was a time-honored, prestigious family that had built its immense wealth through business acumen second to none.

Prioritizing wealth over honor, the House of Gloucester existed merely as a subject of gossip for the noblewomen. On top of that, my fiancé, the Junior Duke of Windsor, was perpetually voted the most handsome nobleman in high society every year, so I suppose I had to endure this much…

No. Until a few days ago, I really thought that.

To be the wife of the Junior Duke of Windsor, and eventually the Duchess, living in absolute luxury for the rest of my life—that was the future mapped out for me. Just because the journey there was a bit noisy didn’t mean the Junior Duke of Windsor, currently joking around at that table over there, wasn’t my fiancé.

This marriage was a promise between our families, and a chance I would never get again. It was a 100% guaranteed future that was neither easily breakable nor erasable.

“The sixth, actually. The fourth was the mother who gave birth to me.”

However, unable to hold back any longer, I barged right into their conversation.

The heads of the noblewomen, who had been huddled together whispering, snapped toward me with a creaking sound.

“Did the… young lady just speak?”

The boldest young matron among them asked in disbelief.

Well, it was natural for them to be shocked. Until now, I had never once paid attention to or cared about people talking behind my back.

Of course, I fiercely agreed with the part about my father, the Count, being trashy. There were four children in our Gloucester family. Surprisingly, all four of us had different mothers. Since my father was famous for his colorful romantic escapades, he always drew the attention of high society.

Even so, I had never lent an ear to such talk. Not once had I ever felt like enduring the trouble of cutting in to meddle.

But back then was back then. Today is different. I am sick and tired of acting like a stone statue, pretending not to hear, pretending not to notice.

“Yes. Incorrect information shouldn’t be spreading in such a lovely setting, after all.” “Oh, oh my.”

The ladies lifted their fans to cover their mouths, struggling blatantly to hide their embarrassment.

When you were gossiping right out in the open, you had no qualms. What’s with the look of shock now that you’ve been caught?

Did they think I wasn’t supposed to hear every word? As the saying goes, if you stay quiet, people treat you like a pushover.

“As for the lack of fabric on the back, it is, unfortunately, high fashion. It’s going to be featured in this month’s Evor catalog. It’s a style trending in the Western Kingdom of Navarra. Madame Evor crafted it herself as a custom piece, and she gifted it to me to wear.”

At the meticulous explanation, the ladies nodded as if they finally understood. Whether they truly accepted it was anyone’s guess.

I was a famous figure in high society. Even with all the gossip surrounding me, I was still the daughter of the prestigious Count of Gloucester and the fiancée of the Junior Duke of Windsor. Even if the fame isn’t always positive, influence still carries weight, doesn’t it?

“Goodness. The Evor catalog.” “Now that I look closer, it does look terribly enchanting.” “Madame Evor’s new collection? My daughter is going to raise an absolute racket begging me to buy it.”

The noblewomen who had been joyfully tearing me apart just moments ago began chiming in with compliments. To be hurt by such fickle behavior would make me an amateur. Letting things slide just enough is best for one’s mental health.

“Madame Evor truly adores the young lady of Gloucester, doesn’t she?” “Now that I think about it, Larsson and Celine should be dropping their summer collections soon, too.” “You must have already heard about the new line, my lady?”

They were looking at me with eyes hoping a single crumb might fall their way. Naturally, I averted my gaze. Is it not obvious that in this situation, I wouldn’t want to share even if I knew?

In truth, fashion houses often sent me products as advance gifts before they even appeared in the catalogs. Sponsorship, you might call it? The brands probably viewed me as a walking billboard.

Just as the ladies said, I had already received the new items from Larsson and Celine. Though high society was desperate to tear me apart, the dresses and shoes I wore consistently sold out within days.

“I plan to wear the Larsson collection to the Railway Bureau event.” “That’s not far off! I’m so excited.” “I wonder if I shouldn’t just make a reservation right now.”

Still, wearing new dresses faster than anyone else was my sole source of entertainment. If I hadn’t even found this much amusement, wouldn’t I have run away from home before attending this hellish social season three times? Living as society’s punching bag was far more terrifying and agonizing than anyone could imagine.

“With such a beautiful fiancée, the Junior Duke is certainly indifferent.”

Yet, there’s always someone bound to drop malicious remarks right to your face. To think she’d stubbornly drag the conversation back to insults even after the person involved had successfully shifted the mood.

“My.”

Still, I couldn’t entirely blame her. The person who truly deserved to be cursed wasn’t this noblewoman reminding me of my harsh reality, after all.

Wasn’t the biggest problem Karlroy Windsor, the fiancé who attended the same gatherings yet always stood at a distance as if we were total strangers, never allowing even a crack of warmth between us?

“You speak of my dear fiancé.”

I hid my mouth behind my fan. The feather-laden fan easily covered half my face. Curses were threatening to spill out right then and there. Shit, or perhaps, insane. The moment those slipped out unfiltered, without any semblance of form, I’d undoubtedly grace the front page of tomorrow’s newspaper.

Fortunately, the ladies’ gazes drifted away from my mouth behind the fan and landed on Karl, who was sipping wine and chatting at the table furthest away.

What on earth could they possibly be talking about to make him smile like that? He had never smiled at me like that even once.

With his tall stature befitting a northerner, a solid physique, and raven-black hair as gorgeous as the night sky, he was a handsome man whose striking appearance completely clashed with the flashily inherited looks of the Gloucester family. Perhaps that was why Karl found me unappealing.

But enough was enough. I no longer cared why he disliked me, nor why he kept delaying our marriage.

“Oh my. It’s a waltz.”

Before I knew it, the dance tune had changed. The first waltz of the ball was traditionally danced by a couple on the verge of marriage. Of course, the number of times I had actually danced a waltz with Karl could be counted on one hand.

Yet, as always, everyone’s attention locked onto us. Their eyes held a clear expectation: Would we dance this time?

The few engaged couples in the ballroom stepped into the center. They had already begun moving to the music, while Karl, far across the room, didn’t even look like he intended to put down the wine glass in his hand.

Right. What did I even expect from you?

Even if Karl were to run over to me right now, drop to one knee, and ask me to dance, I wouldn’t want to accept. Even if it meant tomorrow’s newspaper headlines read: ‘Lady Gloucester, Finally Breaking Off the Engagement?’

Without a single second of hesitation, I turned my head away coldly. The murmurs around me grew louder. Even the gentlemen who always acted so self-righteous and neutral couldn’t hide their gasps of shock.

Even though rejection carried a 100% probability, they must have assumed I would approach and ask him to dance just like every other time, so they expected me to do the same now.

Clatter—

The sound of a wine glass shattering echoed from somewhere. Why on earth was someone dropping glasses and causing a scene? This commotion alone was more than enough to make me realize just how much of a pushover I had been all this time. Yet, despite the chaotic flurry of voices swirling around Karl and me, I never once looked back.

“Could the young lady of Gloucester… finally have lost her mind?”

No, everyone.

I’ve finally come to my senses.