"First, I would like to offer an apology," Cassandra said, gaze firm yet strangely warm. "To Miss Vivienne and her family."
The crowd blinked.
Vivienne blinked.
Even I blinked.
She bowed slightly—enough to show sincerity, but not too much to lose her pride.
"On behalf of the Virellia family," she continued, "and regrettably, on behalf of the House Vexmont, I apologize for this disgraceful incident. It's clear now that it never should've come to this."
Vivienne's lips parted. She looked like she wanted to say something—maybe a thank you.
But Cassandra didn't give her the chance.
Instead, she turned and crossed her arms with a subtle tsk.
"But really, Miss Vivienne…" she said, voice suddenly sharp like cold steel, "...you can't just let people walk all over you like this."
"H-Huh?" Vivienne recoiled slightly.
"You're too willful. Too quiet. It's good to be gentle, but not to the point of becoming a doormat." Cassandra raised an eyebrow. "You must learn to stand up for yourself. Speak. Push back. The world isn't kind to women who wait for rescue."
Vivienne blinked rapidly, eyes wide, her cheeks flushed with embarrassment—but not just that. Something else simmered behind her eyes.
Something just beginning to stir.
A spark.
"And you two—" Cassandra's head snapped toward Vivienne's parents like a judge delivering a sentence.
"Aren't you the adults here? Why are you just standing there like trees planted in shame?"
"W-We…" her father began, but Cassandra cut him off.
"This mess was caused by you, right?" she said sharply. "But now you sit back and watch your daughter throw herself into a sacrifice? If you really loved her, if you had even a shred of spine, you would've moved mountains by now. But I suppose it's easier to be hypocrites."
Shoot....
She's really ruthless. But her words are the truth. I also questioned myself why they were acting like this, my guess is they are probably doing their part of the 'script', fulfilling their roles.
A flicker of shame twisted across Vivienne's mother's face. Her father clenched his jaw.
I am not sure if they are really as Miss Cassandra said but... Well, let's not think about it.
I turned my focus to Miss Cassandra whose gaze swept again, landing on our romcom protagonist Aeron.
"You—" she said, as if just noticing him, "—you said she was your promised, didn't you?"
'So she was here from the start huh. She probably came even before me.'
Aeron straightened like a schoolboy caught chewing gum in front of a headmistress.
"Y-Y-Yes…" he stammered. "That is—I mean, we… I thought maybe if I could say that it'd buy her time and—"
Cassandra frowned. "You thought?"
He froze.
"You thought? That's all it takes for you to throw out a line like that? Just think it, and say it aloud in front of nobles, a crowd, and criminals?"
Aeron opened his mouth, probably to dig his grave deeper.
But to his fortune, Lenora stepped in just in time. "He only wanted to help us, my lady," she said with a bow. "We just them today. He didn't mean harm."
Cassandra paused. Then—surprisingly—nodded.
"I see. Then I apologize." She gave Aeron a quick glance. "But be careful with your words next time. Especially the big ones like this."
"Y-Yes, Mam!"
Aeron exhaled like someone just let him out of a chokehold.
I couldn't help it - I chuckled amusedly.
The poor guy looked like a rookie knight who accidentally volunteered to slay a dragon with a spoon. He probably accepted his fate now.
Cassandra's attention shifted again, now to the real audience—those who had been watching the whole event unfold like it was free theater, including me.
And she didn't look pleased.
"You all," she said, raising her voice.
"You came to watch, didn't you? To whisper and point. To feed off gossip and drama like rats feasting on scraps."
...Damn.
She stepped forward, her aura and presence growing.
"You saw a young girl forced into humiliation, a noble abusing power, a family in shame. And yet not one of you did a damn thing."
Her words were met with absolute silence.
Except from me.
Because for a brief moment—just a flicker—her eyes met mine.
And then… she winked at me.
'Wha—?!'
I blinked like someone had thrown glitter in my eye.
How did she notice me? And was she teasing me? Or… was this some next-level social maneuvering?
Before I could process it, she turned her eyes toward her fiancé.
"Now," she said, her voice sharp as crystal. "This 'deal' you were discussing. What was it? Care to explain it to your fiancée?"
Before Thaddeus could stammer a reply, the sleazy Redhart heir stepped forward with a scoff, clearly trying to regain control.
"That's none of your business, lady—"
But Cassandra didn't even blink.
"Public blackmail. Coerced engagement. Sexual harassment. Shady business arrangements conducted without proper consent." She listed them like court charges. "Are those not crimes in your little Redhart rulebook? Or do you write those in invisible ink?"
The Redhart heir flinched. Sweat prickled at his temple. His confident facade cracked ever so slightly.
"That's a gross misrepresentation—"
"Is it?" Cassandra tilted her head, as if dissecting a worm. "If you'd like, I can call in two of the regional council heads. Or perhaps the Merchant Guild representative I had dinner with last week? I'm sure they'd love to hear about your bargaining methods."
The man stiffened. His eyes darted sideways—to Thaddeus, then to the gathering crowd whispering at the edges. Murmurs had begun. His name on their tongues.
He was cornered.
Again.
His jaw clenched, breath shallow, and for a moment—just a flicker—you could see it.
He was in panic.
He clicked his tongue. Irritated and desperate.
Meanwhile, I watched the entire verbal massacre unfold like a child watching fireworks—eyes wide, heart pounding, mouth slowly stretching into a smile.
'Cassandra von Virellia… you're terrifying.'
And somehow?
I was glad she showed up.
Now, I don't have to do anything anymore. Well, even if I wanted to, my actions would be far below level than hers.
After all, she has everything - power, status, intelligence, courage and background.
While me...
...
"Enough of this circus," she said. "You, Mr. Thaddeus. And you, Redhart guy. As well as Miss Vivienne's parents."
Her voice rang with finality.
"Follow me. We're taking this to the officials. We will solve everything legally and put an end to this. Unless, of course..." She glanced around. "You'd rather humiliate yourselves even more in front of an audience who'll spread everything even to the capital."
For a moment, silence hung heavy like dust in stale air.
Thaddeus, face pale, nodded quickly. "O-Of course, Cassandra. I was just about to suggest—"
But before he could finish, the Redhart heir clicked his tongue in irritation.
"Enough of this," he muttered, then made a subtle hand motion.
Oh no.
Thaddeus noticed it too. "N-No, don't—!"
Too late.
Thr black-cloaked men surged forward—no longer observers, but predators unleashed. In a coordinated motion, they drew slim daggers and short swords, their blades glinting faintly beneath their cloaks as they lunged at Cassandra with lethal intent.
I quickly shifted my gaze to her.
She wasn't flinching nor panicking.
Instead, her lips curled into a slow, amused smirk—the kind that says, "You really should've picked someone dumber."
And then—just as they were about to reach her—I caught a glimpse of something.
A flicker of frost curled at her fingertips.
No—was it fire?
The temperature in the air wavered, as if undecided between freezing cold and searing heat. But the moment was so fast, so seamless, that I almost thought I imagined it.
Almost.
And then—
"STOP!"
A voice boomed like thunder striking stone.
It wasn't just loud—it commanded the air. Made the bones in your body listen.
The black-cloaked men froze mid-lunge.
Literally.
They stopped moving.
And then—crash—they dropped.
All at once, as if invisible hands shoved them to the ground. Blades clattered uselessly beside their collapsed forms. They groaned, pinned flat against the cobblestone under some colossal pressure. As if gravity had suddenly tripled.
I snapped my gaze toward the source.
Down the street strode a titan of a man. Tall and broad as a siege tower, his every step like a declaration of war. A black eyepatch bisected his weathered face, his hair silvered with age.
Redhart heir was visibly stiffened, lips paling.
"G-Gramps—" he stammered, voice laced with panic.
So… the second letter's receiver arrived too.
And judging from everyone's expressions?
This was someone you never wanted on the opposite side of the battlefield.
"Just what the hell are you doing?"