Second Life, I’m Dying Soon Chapter 15

 

Chapter 15

The treasurer left behind a signed notice before departing.

Cecil handed it over to Leo, instructing him to retrieve the allocated budget. Soon after, the reception room began filling with court officials arriving one after another.

The royal court’s chief musician, the official overseeing the imperial palace’s wine supply, a pâtissier, a top-tier gardener, a sculptor, and an interior designer renowned for their expertise in color coordination and decoration—all the professionals needed to organize a grand ball were summoned.

Finally, the audience concluded with a meeting with the administrator overseeing the palace attendants. Each of them was entrusted with a significant task by Cecil, and their faces darkened as they took in the sheer meticulousness of his demands.

Having completed the urgent matters, one might expect Cecil to finally relax. Instead, he immediately rose and made his way to the office. His one true source of comfort was there—if he was to rest, he preferred doing so while looking at Alexis.

When Alexis returned to his office after completing his scheduled duties, the first thing he saw was Cecil, fast asleep with both feet propped up on his desk.

As his chamberlain helped him remove his waistcoat, Alexis inquired,

“How long has he been like this?”

“It has been about two hours since he fell asleep.” 

The chamberlain whispered softly into the prince’s ear.

“He spent the morning meeting with people regarding the banquet and has been sleeping here ever since. I heard he remained in the office until dawn.”

“……”

Alexis turned his gaze back to Cecil.

His skin, visibly duller from fatigue, and his tousled hair were clear signs of his exhaustion from the previous night’s efforts.

He was so deeply asleep in his uncomfortable position that he likely wouldn’t wake even if the ceiling collapsed.

“…Shall I wake him, Your Highness?”

“No need. Just set up a partition around him. If others see him like this, there will be nothing but gossip.”

With that, Alexis dismissed the matter indifferently and returned to his work. He, too, had a mountain of tasks awaiting him, and it was more productive to focus elsewhere than to concern himself with Cecil.

 

***

The debutante ball was now just a week away, and the capital was abuzz with excitement over the imperial invitations. The social season had officially begun.

Salons and dress shops were already bustling with customers. Jewelers were making constant visits to noble households, their thresholds worn from frequent footfalls. No one intended to miss such a long-awaited event; if anything, many were leveraging their connections to accompany those who had received invitations.

Among noblewomen, discussions about the debutante ball were inevitable, and without fail, one name kept resurfacing in their conversations.

“I heard His Highness the Crown Prince is overseeing the ball this year. Does that mean he will make an appearance at the banquet as well?”

“I am terribly worried about Her Majesty the Empress’s health. My goodness, just how much strain must she have been under…”

“Indeed, it’s alarming. I’ve barely been able to sleep from concern over Her Majesty. Imagine—such a scandal, of all things!”

Each flutter of their feathered fans sent a delicate wave through the air, their expressions full of exaggerated sympathy. Yet, their voices betrayed amusement and intrigue.

Cecil’s so-called peculiar preferences had recently become the hottest gossip in the capital. Not long ago, the talk had revolved around the ‘lustful  saintess,’ but now, the subject of rumors had changed.

“I heard His Majesty’s favor for him is boundless! He still keeps Cecil on his lap, can you believe it?”

“Heavens, how indecent! He’s not even a concubine!”

“Perhaps he intends to remain in the imperial palace for life without ever marrying?”

“It makes sense. If he were to marry, he would have to leave the palace. My uncle, Count Milo, was considering his youngest daughter as a match for Lord Cecil, but after this… he was utterly horrified.”

“In that case, wouldn’t it be more effective to send a son instead?”

“That would be much more fitting!”

Laughter erupted among them. Their fans served less to conceal their words than to mask their delighted smirks. Their voices were so loud that their gossip reached every corner of the establishment.

“What do you think you’re doing?!”

The velvet curtain was abruptly pulled back, and an indignant voice thundered through the room.

A woman with striking crimson eyes and streaks of gray in her dark hair stood fuming with fury.

“Gossiping so openly in a public space—what a disgrace! And slandering a member of the imperial family on top of that?”

At Duchess Vandell’s reprimand, the noblewomen jumped to their feet in alarm. In their flustered state, their skirts tangled, and some even dropped their fans in haste.

“Gasp! Duchess, we didn’t mean it that way….”

“I don’t want to hear it! How can noblewomen, who should set an example for others, gossip like common street riffraff? I’m utterly disappointed in you all!”

The noblewomen’s faces turned deathly pale, as if they would suffocate on the spot. It was only natural—they had been thoroughly marked by the formidable mistress of the prestigious Vandell family, known for its influence across the empire.

“W-we’re sorry, Duchess Vandell. We misspoke… Please, forgive us.”

“You should seek forgiveness not from me, but from Lord Cecil.”

“……”

“I’ve remembered all your faces. You’ll all be attending the upcoming banquet, won’t you? I’ll be watching very closely to see how you conduct yourselves.”

A chill swept through the room, despite it being indoors. The noblewomen instinctively clutched their lace shawls tightly around their shoulders to ward off the icy wind that seemed to emanate from the duchess herself.

The men of the Vandell family were infamous for their formidable temperaments. Though he had now retired from the front lines, Duke Vandell had made a name for himself as the empire’s chief judge, and his eldest son, Claude Vandell, had become a knight commander at the age of just twenty-three. As the crown prince’s closest confidant, he was a rising star destined to help lead the empire.

And Duchess Olrike Vandell was the only one capable of keeping both of them in check.

Despite the empire’s male-dominated societal norms, within the Vandell household, the duchess’s word was absolute. The family’s long-standing tradition of revering women ensured it.

Moreover, she was the one who had fed, clothed, and raised the crown prince. Her influence rivaled that of any nobleman in the empire, and no one dared to provoke her ire.

Now, the noblewomen were beyond mere tears—they were trembling outright. Their perfectly styled hair came undone as they repeatedly bowed, desperate to express their remorse. Pride was meaningless in this moment; they could only mutter desperate apologies over and over.

“Enough! Anyone would think I was the one tormenting you.”

With a sharp glare, the duchess turned away. The stern expression on her face softened only when she spotted Yuria peeking out from behind a curtain.

“Yuria, let’s leave. I doubt I’ll be in the mood to pick out dresses today.”

“…Yes, Duchess.”

“Madame, I know you must be busy, but I’d like you to visit the estate tomorrow. I don’t want to experience such an unpleasant incident again, so I’ll have to ask for your help.”

“Of course, Your Grace. I will bring fine fabrics to the estate tomorrow. You and Lady Beatrice will have your dresses without issue.”

Madame Rosé, the owner of Étoile, the most prestigious dress shop in the empire, let out a silent sigh of relief. The duchess was responsible for a significant portion of her shop’s annual revenue—losing her as a client over such a trivial matter would have been disastrous.

She had nearly suffered losses thanks to the loose tongues of those noblewomen. To make up for it, she vowed to ensure the duchess’s dress was nothing short of perfection.

The duchess and Yuria exited Étoile and climbed into the waiting carriage. Staring out the window, Olrike’s expression remained tense. Yuria, fiddling with her fingers, anxiously watched for a sign of her mood improving.

“It’s absurd. What do they know to speak such nonsense?”

“Please don’t be too upset, Duchess. I believe they’ve learned their lesson today. They truly seemed remorseful.”

Yuria’s gentle voice, as delicate as a chirping bird, instantly eased the duchess’s temper.

“You’re right. Perhaps I overreacted. You must have been startled as well—I’m sorry.”

“I’m fine, but I’m worried about Lord Cecil. His name is being thrown around so much.”

“That’s true… He’s surely facing difficulties in the palace as well.”

The duchess sighed, her breath fogging up the carriage window.

At least she would see Cecil next week. She resolved to properly express her belated gratitude then and, for now, set aside her growing worries.

 

***

Just as the duchess had predicted, Cecil was indeed facing difficulties.

Not due to malicious rumors or ridicule, but because he was being inundated with letters. Every single one was a marriage proposal from noble families seeking a suitable match.

The first letter had come from Baron Patrick, a young noble. At thirty-two, he carried the title of an old bachelor, but he was known for his keen sense of modern trends and was rumored to be quite the handsome man.

Cecil read the letter and promptly tore it to shreds.