Chapter 46
His Majesty Alban II of Tranlene had, by most accounts, at least three official mistresses. Add in the high-class courtesans he occasionally summoned to the palace, and the number easily surpassed what you could count on both hands.
Serge tapped his heel against the ground, a steady rhythm betraying his rising irritation.
“I wouldn’t recommend becoming a mistress,” he said.
“Huh? Why not?” Josée tilted her head, genuinely puzzled.
“I want you to value yourself, Josée.”
She blinked at him, then scoffed with a smirk. “What are you saying? If the King takes a liking to me, I’ll be famous. Business will boom. Getting close to him can only help.”
Serge’s expression tightened, the desperation he’d tried to mask finally surfacing.
“It’s me,” he said quietly. “I’m the one who hates it. I don’t want you to become one of His Majesty’s playthings.”
Josée’s mouth fell open in surprise.
“You... do you even hear yourself right now?”
Color rose in Serge’s cheeks, flushing all the way to his ears. Seeing it, Josée’s own face flushed faintly pink.
“Serge…” she whispered, leaning in a little as if to see him more clearly.
He leaned in, too.
(No way!)
Startled, Josée quickly pulled back. Their eyes met, and for a split second, her chest tightened, her heart thudding hard—an unfamiliar rhythm she didn’t know how to place.
Trying to calm the tension, she forced a smile.
“Don’t worry, Serge. Just because I’m getting close to the King doesn’t mean I’m handing over my whole body. I’ve made it through worse. I’ll just charm him a little, catch his interest.”
If she pushed him too far, he might stop coming to the underworld. That thought alone was enough to make her change gears—fast.
But Serge wasn’t easily fooled. He saw right through the flimsy excuse.
After a moment, he steadied himself and looked her in the eye.
“I’m not trying to stop you from doing what you want. If being His Majesty’s mistress is something you truly desire, I’ll respect that. But…”
He stepped closer.
“Will that really make you happy, Josée?”
A cold sweat prickled the back of her neck.
Serge’s gaze was unwavering, as if he could see the cost of every lie she'd told.
“I just… I think that path leads to self-destruction. Trying to win favor from someone like His Majesty… You could lose everything. Just like the men here who throw their lives away on courtesans.”
The words hit her like a blade to the chest.
He was right. Twisting herself to match someone else’s desires could only end in ruin. The idea that “if I give something, I’ll get something in return” was arrogant—a dangerous illusion. People who try to curry favor usually end up being the ones used, no matter their gender.
But even knowing that, she couldn’t stop now.
(Sorry, Serge…)
Not even genuine kindness or sincere concern from a close friend could thaw the vengeful ice encasing Josée’s heart.
(I will see my revenge through. This is the perfect chance.)
She hadn’t told Serge anything—not her reasons, not her motives—so of course he didn’t understand.
“I decide my own happiness,” she said quietly.
She smiled at him—softly, but with a firmness that kept any protest at bay.
“I still want your help. So… what should I wear to the underworld event?”
Serge let out a shallow sigh. But after a beat, he nodded, coming to his own quiet decision.
“If you want to catch His Majesty’s eye, you’ll need something distinctive. We might find something interesting at the department store.”
“It’s my first time going shopping with a man,” she said playfully. “If I find something that looks good from a noble’s point of view, I’ll buy it.”
Leaving behind their empty coffee cups, they walked side by side toward the central district.
When they reached the department store’s jewelry section, Serge stopped before a glass display, his eyes landing on a gold choker—more of a collar than a necklace, hugging the collarbone with an elegant boldness.
“New ruins were discovered in a neighboring country recently,” he explained. “This piece is modeled after artifacts found there. The details aren’t exact, but it’s made to resemble them. It’s definitely a conversation starter.”
“Wow! It’s covered in melee diamonds. So pretty!”
“They’re synthetic, though,” Serge added with a wry smile.
Josée had the rare choker placed around her neck and stepped back and forth in front of the mirror.
“Beautiful… How much is it?”
“One hundred deniers, madam,” the clerk replied.
“Oh, that’s all? Then I’ll take it.”
Just as she reached for her coin pouch, Serge gently stopped her with a hand.
“Josée. Let me pay for this.”
She blinked in surprise, then shook her head vigorously once it registered.
“No way! You already paid for the café. And this is expensive.”
“It’s fine. You’ve done plenty for me, Josée. Let me do this. Consider it a gift.”
“Serge…”
Something felt off. He was being unusually generous today.
“What’s going on? You’re acting kind of weird.”
“Nothing’s wrong,” he said with a small smile. “I’m just buying it to commemorate our first date.”
Josée laughed softly. “Heh, I knew something was off. But… if you insist, maybe I’ll let you.”
The choker was carefully placed in a velvet box and handed to her.
It was dazzling, despite being imitation. Colorful stones were scattered across the gold base, with tiny melee diamonds filling the spaces in between.
Josée lifted it toward the sunlight streaming through the department store’s glass ceiling, mesmerized by the way it sparkled.
“So pretty…”
“With something that striking, I’m sure His Majesty will notice you.”
Box in hand, they began walking again.
“I’ll come pick you up on the day of the underworld gathering,” Serge said. “Until the audience with His Majesty is over, stay with me.”
“And after that? Is it free time?”
“The main event is the ball. That’s the centerpiece. There’ll be a few standing buffets, too. I’ll bring the carriage, so let’s at least head home together.”
Serge escorted Josée safely back to her place.
“Thanks, Serge. Today was really fun.”
“See you in a week. Make sure to wear a stunning dress.”
“Okaaay. See you!”
They parted ways in front of the brothel, the velvet box nestled safely in Josée’s arms.