Rewriting the Trash Ending - Chapter 65

—————
This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
—————

65.

***

The Banquet Hall of the Grand Duke’s Palace, opened to the public for the first time in ages, overflowed with guests.
The gates had not stood so wide since the State Marriage Ceremony.
Only a select few had been received by the Grand Duke and Grand Duchess at the previous 70th Birthday Celebration or formal gathering, and none of them meant to squander this opportunity.
The Charity Fund’s inaugural gala.
Attendance meant opening one’s purse strings, but falling out of favor with the Grand Duke’s Household was a far worse prospect.
Belia suppressed her boredom with a sip of wine.
The occasion itself enforced decorum—every voice hushed to a murmur, every topic refined and measured.
‘So when, exactly, is the Marchioness arriving?’
An invitation had been pressed into her hands; she was supposed to appear today. Where was she?
Then, from somewhere in the crowd, a voice reached her ear.
“The intentions are admirable, but I confess myself uneasy. She’s only just begun to manage her estate—can she truly spare attention for the Fund?”
“So very young and inexperienced, one worries. And the Fund’s capital is immense.”
“Word has it she even sent Baron Ruan to the Mines.”
“But isn’t the previous Baron Ruan renowned as a great philanthropist?”
“Precisely. They say she confiscated the Ruan family’s welfare house and made it the Fund’s headquarters.”
“Still, hasn’t everyone benefited from the Amber Bark Export Permit System? Even foreign merchants no longer dare their old tricks.”
The conversation faltered.
“Even so. With all this commotion even before the gala begins, I wonder if it can be run properly.”
The nobles exhaled quietly in unison.
On the surface, they sounded concerned for the Fund’s integrity. But their true feelings were transparent.
They resented the money being extracted from them under duress.
They feared a young Grand Duchess with no experience would squander it all into nothing, or worse—stuff only her own pockets.
Belia’s lips curved upward.
She herself felt her insides twist at the thought of that woman managing her family’s coffers; clearly, others shared her sentiment.
‘Does the Grand Duchess still care about her reputation?’
Of course not. No one looked kindly upon the hand that opened their purse.
By claiming that authority, the Grand Duchess had made herself enemies.
Being dragged here by her father’s command rankled, but hearing the public sentiment now, she found the visit less of a wasted effort than expected.
And thinking of what was about to unfold in this hall, her spirits lifted.
Her eyes glinted with keen anticipation.
The entrance of the Banquet Hall suddenly stirred.
The moment Belia turned her head, her pupils wavered.
…….
The Grand Duke and Grand Duchess were entering the hall.
She could not tear her eyes from him.
Black hair swept back neat with pomade.
His brow lay exposed, a sharp cross scar etched upon it.
Sharp, striking features.
The taut lines of his form visible beneath the tailored cut of his coat as he moved.
Over the rim of her wine glass, Belia let her gaze drift slowly down the length of his body.
Her eyes lingered below his waist, trailing and persistent.
What would it be like to undo each button, to feel bare skin against skin, to lie beneath him and revel?
Heat pooled low in her belly.
Was this the Grand Duchess’s handiwork?
Belia drew her tongue slowly across her lips.
The Grand Duke had always dressed much the same—neutral colors, unremarkable cut, the bare minimum of propriety.
His natural beauty had been buried beneath an indifferent expression, and his eyes had always seemed hollow, lifeless.
He had been an uninteresting man—indifferent to himself, forever swinging a sword in some dusty training ground.
But here lay raw ore waiting to be refined.
The man she had polished and presented stood apart from the pallid suitors who had thrown themselves at her before; there was something about him that stirred a woman’s appetite.
Belia observed the Grand Duke with a hidden gaze that escaped all notice.
He remained at the Grand Duchess’s side like a guard, watching over her.
When her step slowed, his slowed with it.
It might be nothing more than deference to his wife, but in a man accustomed to being served, this quiet attentiveness he now offered was something else entirely.
It made the Grand Duchess appear to be a woman of consequence.
She could make even an unremarkable woman seem remarkable by standing beside her, so how would it feel to have the Grand Duke at her side?
The inaugural banquet, which had bored her moments before, suddenly became fascinating.
Belia tracked the Grand Duke with her eyes, calculating the perfect moment to approach.
Her body burned with urgency to snatch away the jewel the Grand Duchess had so carefully polished, the sooner the better.
“Belia, come here.”
Her father beckoned her over, evidently about to pay his respects to the couple.
“Your Highness, Your Grace. It is an honor to attend this momentous gathering with both of you.”
“Thank you for coming, Pendro.”
It was the Grand Duchess who received the greeting.
The Grand Duke merely nodded curtly, his lips sealed.
It wasn’t that he meant disrespect toward her father—he was simply that way with everyone.
So her father’s face bloomed with its customary smile.
“Your Highness has honored me with his trust and entrusted me with an important post. How could I possibly absent myself from such an occasion? Though my abilities may be limited, my household will do all it can to support Your Grace’s vision.”
“I’m grateful. It’s reassuring to have men like you.”
Belia listened to the pleasantries exchanged between her father and the Grand Duchess, waiting for her opening.
There was no need to rush.
As this was a conversation between the Foreign Minister and the Grand Duke and Duchess, the surrounding guests were naturally drawing closer to listen.
The more eyes watching, the better.
That woman would smile gracefully without realizing her husband was being offered away in plain sight of all these witnesses.
“Your Grace, might I venture to speak?”
“Please, go ahead.”
Belia glanced sideways at the Grand Duke.
His gaze remained fixed on the Grand Duchess’s profile.
A dull ache pricked at her chest, but when she imagined the moment his eyes would belong to her alone, this brief indifference ceased to hurt.
Belia opened her lips with a shy smile.
“My late grandmother left me certain pieces of jewelry as a gift. She entrusted them to me as a future dowry, and I would like to donate them to the Charity Fund.”
Murmurs rippled through the crowd.
She was offering up jewelry inherited from her grandmother—the very dowry she was meant to carry into her future marriage.
It was remarkable that a daughter of such a distinguished family would sacrifice even her own prospects in such devotion, and all present were suitably impressed.
Belia smiled with apparent graciousness, but her heart thrummed with secret triumph.
A dowry was only necessary when a woman married into another household.
To cast it aside was to declare she would never need one—that she would occupy a station where such things were unnecessary.
An Honorable Marchioness, for instance.
Or the Grand Duke’s concubine.
By day she would perform rituals before the tomb of her dead predecessor, but each night she would welcome into her arms the man that woman had once held.
Of course, no one here would glimpse the true meaning behind these words.
Nor did they need to.
This was purely an act of humiliation toward that woman.
To imagine the Grand Duchess graciously accepting from a future concubine the dowry being offered—receiving it with her own hands, thanking her for it—
The thought that she would do so without suspecting her husband’s body, her husband’s heart, or her own usurped future made Belia want to laugh aloud.
She was softening her gaze, savoring the anticipation of that moment when the woman would be made a fool—
“That is indeed a most admirable sentiment, my dear.”
“Then—”
“But I cannot accept it.”
The refusal came as a shock, and Belia’s smile froze awkwardly on her face.
“…I beg your pardon?”
“How could I accept treasures your grandmother left for your own future?”
Before Belia could respond, Lumiere continued.
“Moreover, the Charity Fund is a place where everyone contributes according to their means. It would never be right for a young lady to sacrifice her prospects.”
“Your Grace, I am not sacrificing my prospects. I merely wish to show my support for your vision—”
“You should keep those pieces and treasure them, dear. When you establish your own household someday, they will remind you of your grandmother’s love. That is what I truly hope for you.”
It was a refusal delivered with flawless courtesy, without a single opening for argument.

—————
This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
—————