Stumbling in front of the King was indeed an extremely effective way to get eliminated. Yet Aerith could not deny the sting of humiliation that still clung to her. If there had been an official way to disappear from that hall without creating a scandal, she would have seized it in an instant.
I am useless. I will be eliminated. No one wants me. No one, she told herself. It was not a hope, but a fact she had always believed: that she was worthless and good for nothing.
All these concubine candidates are beautiful and refined, while I am ugly and foolish. It is pitiful, but the most important point is that I will be easily eliminated.
At that moment, Aerith sat at the far left end of the third row, closest to a pillar. Most of her time was spent staring at her shoes, trying not to faint from the suffocating corset and the overwhelming shame. When she grew tired of looking at her shoes, she chose instead to stare at the pillar. Not once did she glance, let alone steal a look, at the King, unlike the other candidates who openly gazed at King Lucien's handsome face.
A Lady in the audience leaned forward, her ivory fan covering part of her face. "Look at that candidate at the far left," she whispered with amusement. "Is she trying to look innocent, or was she truly born foolish?"
The same Lady covered her mouth as if to suppress her laughter, then glanced at her companion. "Her posture is so hunched… she looks more like a lost servant than the King's potential concubine."
It had always been a tradition: the concubine selection contest was witnessed by dozens, even hundreds, of nobles who thirsted for entertainment wrapped in intrigue. Strangely, the more Aerith tried to disappear behind her seat, the more eyes in the hall were drawn to her.
Another Lady in the back row whispered to her friend, "They say she comes from a very distant land. Oh, perhaps that is some sort of etiquette taught in her country. Who knows?"
Some were stunned; even in the palace, where strict rules dictated every move, etiquette was not supposed to look so rigid and awkward as Aerith displayed. The whispers slithered among the audience, only to fade when the bell sounded again, its clear toll echoing throughout the hall.
From the side of the stage, a well-dressed man stepped forward. He was the Overseer of the contest, and every movement of his signaled the beginning of something important. Stopping at the center, before the concubine candidates, he unfurled a silver scroll with careful precision before reading it aloud.
"For the first trial," he announced, his voice sharp as the tear of paper, "each candidate will introduce herself and answer one question: What is the most precious thing you wish to offer His Majesty the King?"
Aerith froze.
An introduction. A question. In front of hundreds of noblewomen.
She glanced to her right. At the far end of the first row stood a Lady with golden hair. Her chin lifted slightly, arrogant yet somehow radiating elegance.
"I am Lady Venetia from the House of Carlestone," she declared in a perfectly measured voice. "And if permitted, I wish to present the art of diplomacy I have learned from my father, the Grand Duke of the South. No one doubts his skill in diplomacy, and that talent flows in my blood. His Majesty will gain much by choosing me as the royal concubine of Avalon."
The crowd nodded in approval. Who did not know Lady Venetia, the skillful noble whose name had long been touted as the strongest candidate in this year's selection? Many even believed she was destined to be chosen as the King's concubine.
When Lady Venetia finished her introduction and bowed elegantly before the King, she returned to her seat, greeted at once by the applause of the audience.
The next contestant rose.
"I am Lady Mirabelle from the Duchy of Vanier. Beyond my loyalty, my body, and my entire life, I can also present a strategic position to the King. My family is renowned for its wide network across many nations in this continent. It would be no loss to choose me, for with that, King Lucien's position will only grow stronger."
Diplomatic skill was certainly crucial. But Lady Mirabelle possessed something else difficult to rival: connections. Once again, the hall resounded with applause. A royal concubine candidate was indeed expected to have advantages that ordinary nobles could never match.
One by one, the candidates rose to introduce themselves and answer the question. Each one like a flower blooming with carefully calculated fragrance, each appearing flawless.
Until it was Aerith's turn.
"I… I…"
Her voice was barely audible. Her head was bowed low. How could it be that at such a crucial moment, she forgot the one name she was supposed to use: Elysia Montreux.
"I am Aerith R…" She nearly fainted the instant her ears heard her own mouth say her true name. By the time she tried to correct herself, it was too late. Everyone had heard her first name.
"Montreux, Aerith Montreux," the Overseer interjected, rescuing her. He quickly crossed out the first name written on his notes and murmured politely to King Lucien, "A scribe must have made a mistake when recording the names, Your Majesty. A minor error."
King Lucien gave a small nod. It was no major matter.
Aerith also nodded, though her gesture was painfully nervous.
"And your offering to the King?"
Aerith lifted her gaze straight ahead. All the noble faces were watching. Even the statue in the corner of the hall seemed to hold its breath.
After struggling to think, Aerith finally said:
"Peaceful sleep, Your Majesty. If I am chosen, I will make sure His Majesty is never disturbed by me. I… I will not trouble you."
Without being told, Aerith quickly sat down again and resumed staring at her shoes.
Some women chuckled softly behind their fans. Even the Overseer stifled a small cough.
But there was someone who looked deeper. From the upper dais, King Lucien narrowed his eyes.
Offering… peaceful sleep?
That was no offering. It was almost a foolish answer, the kind that would fall from the lips of a brainless candidate. And precisely because of that, Aerith drew his attention.
The first possibility, she is the most foolish girl in the room. The second possibility, she is deliberately pretending to be foolish. King Lucien pondered as he occasionally cast sidelong glances at Aerith, who was wholly absorbed in staring at the pillar.
When the trial ended, the candidates were gathered in the results chamber.
Aerith stood motionless, staring at her own hands. Surely she would be eliminated. That meant she could return to being a simple, unimportant apprentice servant. She could spend her life washing kitchen cloths, and that would be fine, as long as she never again had to answer questions in front of the King.
The Overseer of the Selection entered with a scroll in hand. Everyone held their breath.
"The highest score today goes to Lady Venetia from the House of Carlestone."
Polite applause filled the room.
"Followed by Lady Mirabelle…"
Aerith exhaled. She nearly smiled. With great anticipation, she waited for her name to be called among those eliminated.
"…and in third place is Lady Aerith of Moonstone."
Aerith's heart plummeted.
What?!
She turned to the left. Then to the right. Then up at the ceiling, as if asking the heavens for clarification.
Why?
Had she not failed miserably? Had she not been utterly terrible?
Not only Aerith, but the other contestants also displayed disbelief. This had to be a mistake.
Meanwhile, from the upper balcony, King Lucien stood composed, watching the uproar below. His arms were crossed before his chest, his expression unreadable.
Among all the candidates, his gaze lingered on Aerith, who appeared deeply dissatisfied with the outcome of the evaluation.
She did not try to attract my attention. She did not look at me. She did not offer false smiles or empty compliments… His brow arched slightly. She does not want me? Intriguing.