“It is said that in the days of the old kingdom, such a person was called an eromenos. Even in the early days of the founding of the country, official male concubines were called that way. But these days, the nickname is used exclusively for Saint Tefylae, so no matter how ‘sacred’ his thighs are, you cannot call him that.”
Viscountess Sievest, having had fun teasing the innocent old maiden, calmly spread the double meaning of obscenity in a tone that was as elegant as she was gentle. Miss Bruel was not very enthusiastic about the doctrine but knew the degree of the informal yet unofficial history related to Saint Tefylae’s thighs.
Miss Bruel turned red all the way to her earlobes when she belatedly realized the contents of the holy book she had read unknowingly when she was young and turned her face away, as she couldn’t think of how to act next. On the other hand, Countess Débonnaire, who could be said to be in a freer position than anyone else since she was a widow, instinctively recalled Baron Doe’s strong body and sighed.
“… Certainly, his thighs deserve praise.”
Countess Débonnaire muttered regretfully, completely forgetting her original resolution to not show interest. Even before this incident, Baron Doe was the subject of subtle interest to some noblewomen who knew everything that young maidens might be ignorant of.
He was exceptionally tall with a solid build and gave off a very manly impression. But most of all, what caught the attention of the ladies were his tight waist and firm thighs that even appeared above the outline of the clothes.
Seeing that the culottes, which were usually tightened from below the knees, were tight from the thighs instead, one could imagine how sensual the bridge below would be. Even the rough image of him being a sailor served as a great merit for the ladies who knew how to notice such a figure.
Countess Débonnaire recalled the secret conversations that traveled from folding fan to folding fan and sighed once more with growing regret. It was a pity that such a man was playing the role of mignon. If the Baron had visited the ladies’ bedrooms instead of the Emperor’s, he would have known how hasty such a choice was.
“Come to think of it, he is related to Viscountess Gagnon, right?”
A subtle atmosphere filled the room for a while, but the topic did not continue any longer. Miss Bruel, afraid that the conversation she should not have interrupted would continue, quickly changed the subject.
Unlike the two noblewomen, who were wealthy, free, and even held titles, Miss Bruel had only a clean reputation, highly valuing her only possession. The only way she could keep her current position, which was so unappealing that she could not get married without a huge dowry, was to maintain her impeccable reputation.
“Yes, he is. It is a fact many people overlook since he is serving in the Navy, but he is originally from the East.”
“For him to attend Viscountess Gagnon’s salon… Does that mean he is interested in interacting with ‘old friends’?”
“Who knows? I cannot say that for sure as I am not him. However, since he has no other base in the capital, it cannot be said that he is not interested in the slightest. Frankly, what could be more reliable than blood ties? There are many cases in the East that are connected to each other by a degree of kinship, so if you look for them, there may be more relatives left.”
“Regardless, would it not be frivolous to connect with the old Eastern nobles now? Most of those people cannot really help him. After all, it is not like he has no one to lean on. Even with the Admiral of the Fleet, the Marquis of La Baille, he appointed him to an important position enough to start rumors that he was his supporter, did he not?”
Countess Débonnaire could not bear it any longer and expressed her opinion. Although she had little political influence, that did not mean that she had no interest in court politics.
Conversely, she paid more attention with interest because it was something she could not relate to. In fact, there was nothing more important to those who depended on the court than the direction of power. Moreover, Ebroin V had a precedent for reorganizing political power by using concubines as tools.
We’re sorry for MTLers or people who like using reading mode, but our translations keep getting stolen by aggregators so we’re going to bring back the copy protection. If you need to MTL please retype the gibberish parts.
“Ktja kjr ecali Obelrf vf Gewbca kjr wegvfgfv. Cr lo la kjr cba fcbeut atja tf kjr tewliljafv veglcu atf vlnbgmf aglji, atlr lcmlvfca mjerfv jcbatfg rfglfr bo ubrrlq. Qbeiv atf Zjgdelr qgfofg ab mbcalcef ab yf lcnbinfv klat tlw ktlira atlcxlcu bo tlr ojmf? Snfc lo tf vbfr cba offi jcs gfugfar abkjgv tlw, tf klii cb ibcufg yf lcnbinfv klat tlw.”
She didn’t want to admit it, but Viscountess Sievest had a much better understanding of the political situation than she did. Countess Débonnaire realized that the Viscountess’s opinion was valid, so she accepted it without objection. It seemed that she had lost once again, and her heart was in a state of disarray, but the Countess was not a person who lacked self-restraint enough to show such a feeling openly.
“From what I heard, I think so too.”
“Since his future depends on it, he must have thought about it the most than anyone else. Now that he is coming out of his seclusion after two weeks, it must be said that he has made up his mind in one way or the other. So how important is this gathering? I would not want to miss the opportunity to see it up close.”
If Madame Chantelle had not offended her with the lace matter, she would have fixed the dress she had worn before, but Viscountess Sievest nonchalantly lied.
Countess Débonnaire had deliberately invited the Viscountess to her toilette time after hearing that ‘The Snow Queen’ had arrived from Kayediv but had no choice but to admit her defeat. She was the first to provoke, but the final victor of the day was Viscountess Sievest.
Madame Chantelle, who had been attentively listening to the conversation of the three, became deeply depressed when she realized that, regardless of her efforts, it was unlikely that the outcome would be the way she wanted it to be.
She would have tried to dissuade her in any way possible, but on a matter of this magnitude, Viscount Sievest would attend the gathering no matter what she says.
This will not work. Madame Chantelle gave up her last hope without regret. She re-examined the fitting process in her head and began to seriously consider how to complete the dress in time for the date desired by the Viscountess.
***
The carriage, which had been shaking, slowly came to a stop. Eugène, immersed in thought while listening to the sound of horseshoes against the paving stones, quietly opened his eyes at the presence of a servant who came to greet the guests.
The unfamiliar headwear on the gentleman’s head was lukewarm with body temperature. Perhaps he had unconsciously grasped it, leaving a mark on his palm as it was in the form of headwear.
After taking a deep breath for a moment, Eugène got up from his seat and fixed his posture, as if he had made up his mind. The carriage door opened, revealing a stylish mansion surrounded by bright lights. It was small compared to the other mansions he had been invited to, but it still looked like it had 30 rooms.
“How did you get here?”
When he handed the hat and cloak he was wearing to the servant, the butler, who was receiving guests at the entrance, approached him and asked politely. Eugène, who had come in an undecorated carriage because he disliked being seen by others, handed the invitation from his arms to the butler. The butler, who had been probing into him with a long, curious gaze, checked the name on the invitation and burst out with a brief exclamation of Oh.
“So it is Your Excellency, Baron Amieux. Welcome. The Viscountess is waiting.”
The butler hurriedly bowed his head to greet him and then guided him inside. Eugène followed him, feeling the eyes of the servants following him behind his back. They seemed to think that they were peeking without being noticed, but Eugène, who had come to a deep realization of what it meant to be exposed to the gazes of others, could not fail to notice them.
It certainly seemed that the imperial court attendants were much more well-trained in this area. From his own experience, at least they knew how to hide their blatant curiosity in a more sophisticated way.
Passing through the entrance hall decorated with fragrant sandalwood branches and lavender weaved to the inside, he could see a salon decorated in an antique style. While the recent social fad has been to decorate the walls with fancy Eastern murals, Viscountess Gagnon was unusual in that she decorated the place by overlapping classic wooden panels with gilded edges and hanging tinted crest shields over them.
Eugene felt that the scenery in the room was somehow familiar. He had definitely seen it somewhere, but he couldn’t remember where.
“Viscountess, Baron Amieux has arrived.”
There were more people than expected in the salon. It seemed like a small banquet rather than a regular salon gathering. As he stepped forward to greet the hostess, suffocating gazes followed him over the long chairs scattered along the edge of the room. There was no eye contact, but everyone was looking at him.
Dense, viscous gazes followed at each step, leaving sticky traces. He pretended not to know that in every spot he passed, gentle whispers spread like butterflies landing on petals.
Viscountess Gagnon, who had been seated in the innermost part of the salon, raised her head and looked at him only when he stood in front of her.
“It is a pleasure to meet you. I am Eugène de Chastan, Baron Amieux.”
Eugene greeted her, kissing the back of her elegantly extended hand. The beautiful Viscountess, who had not lost her beauty even in her middle age, greeted him with a formal smile on her languid lips.
“Nice to meet you. I am Viscountess Gagnon.”
She still retains her Eastern accent that curled words at the end.
My late father used to speak like that too.
Eugene frowned at the old memories that came to mind without permission. In fact, Eugene had an unfavorable prejudice against those who spoke with such an accent. This is because, throughout his childhood, he experienced terrible arrogance and obstinacy when these people refused to let go of their accents even though the times had changed.
“Thank you for the invitation, my lady.”
“Oh, it is nothing. I have heard much about you from Count d’Estuaire in the meantime. Constance’s son is no stranger to me. I wanted to invite you sooner, but it is a shame that I did not have the opportunity to do so.”
The Viscountess, with her jet-black hair tied up with an ivory comb, greeted him with a friendly attitude.
Even though she said all that, he knew better than to accept such words as if they were sincere. If she really wanted to, she would have kept in touch no matter how far away they were. If either of them had the intention to do that, second cousins once removed from aristocratic families who were not very distant relatives, they would not have been able to live without visiting each other.
“It is late, but since we have gotten in touch with each other, I shall be seeing you more often from now on, Viscountess.”
“It would be a great pleasure of mine if you would do so. Please feel free to stop by as though it were your own home.”
The conversations between each other flowed smoothly. Truthfully, Viscountess Gagnon had little interest in inviting Baron Amieux to her salon, unlike the other noblewomen who were all about popularity.
She had no desire to curry favor with the man who was only the Emperor’s paramour, and she would not have intervened in such a cumbersome matter if it had not been for the earnest request of her nephew, whom she cherished more than her own child.
Even though he was a relative, Baron Amieux, who had long since lost contact with her, was like a stranger to her, and because of her sensitive nature, she disliked talking to strangers for long, so this situation was extremely perplexing for her.
However, since she was the hostess, it was impossible to ignore the guests she had personally invited. She could introduce him to others only after more conversations, as was customarily accepted.
“I am supposed to be the one to guide you, but please understand. My knees are not in good shape since I am old. The one who will guide you on my behalf—”
“Mother, I heard Baron Amieux has arrived?”
Viscountess Gagnon was trying to gently hand over her duties to the person she had appointed but never got the chance to do so. This was because someone suddenly interrupted the conversation without any understanding.
Eugene looked back at him with a strange look, wondering who this absurdly disrespectful person was. The uninvited guest didn’t seem to understand why Eugène was looking at him, but he opened his mouth as if he realized his identity belatedly.
“Could you be Baron Amieux?”
“… Yes, but who are you?”
“Oh oh. Apologies for the late introduction. I am Viscount Gagnon, the owner of the house. The Viscountess here is my mother.”
As if he had left the billiard room after hearing the news, Viscount Gagnon was holding a cue stick in one hand and his other hand was stained with chalk. To make matters worse, the Viscount even asked for a handshake with that dirty hand. Eugène held Viscount Gagnon’s hand with a somewhat strange feeling.
Unlike the Viscountess, whose delicate and sensitive beauty remained intact despite her age, Viscount Gagnon had a very dull impression overall. He had a nose big enough to not fit his round face, and his frame was quite thick. For a capital aristocrat, his behavior was extremely rough, and his speech was rather unpretentious. To Eugene, who was a sailor, this roughness was not to the point of being offensive, but it was quite surprising because he did not know that he would meet such a person in the center of high society.
“Viscount. Be polite.”
Even if it wasn’t for the rude behavior of the Viscount, the eyes that had been focused on one side became more explicit. Unlike usual, half of the people gathered in the salon were just spectators, so it was a fixed logic to focus on the place where there was a commotion.
Even so, Viscountess Gagnon, realizing that even her own child had been reduced to a spectacle to those who were unworthy, lowered her voice as if she was uncomfortable and scolded her son.
An item of clothing worn on the lower half of the body.
Welcome back! And thank you so much for the chapter (੭ˊᵕˋ)੭.*･｡ﾟও
<3
Welcome Back !!!!
uwaahhh thank you for this update,
i miss you😭😭😭welcome back mimari-san ❤️❤️❤️
welcome back 🤍🤍
Welcome back!
Welcome back !Thanks for the chapter! 💙
Glad to see you back!!😘
Thank you for the chapter.
I really wanna see something spicy dicy
Going on!! Asap
🤣
The way I see the concept of erastes-eromenos being discussed, it’s so interesting….but also lowkey sad as this was a HUGE source of gossip for both noblemen and noblewomen back in the day. Poor Eugene….i hope he can traverse through this pack of hyenas with ease.