Chapter 41
***
A procession of luxurious carriages bearing the crests of noble houses filled the dazzling Opera Street.
For the aristocrats who remained in the capital during the long winter, opera was undoubtedly the most delightful entertainment. This season was especially significant for them.
It was due to Gounod's newly rising prima donna.
As competition among opera houses intensified in the new year, the Gounod Opera House enjoyed unprecedented prosperity, buoyed by the popularity of Christine Peildon. The final performance was completely sold out.
"It seems every notable figure in society has gathered here."
From the young gentlemen who were regulars at the Gounod Theatre to the old aristocrats of the Royal Opera House. Christine Peildon’s influence, spanning generations, was truly overwhelming.
"If I'd gone to Britain for a holiday, this winter would have been dreadfully dull."
Beneath the brilliantly lit, rounded ceiling adorned with chandeliers, the boxes echoed with the chatter of elegantly dressed ladies.
Topics ranged from today's weather to the ladies' dresses and jewelry, but the heated debate centered on rumors about the Crown Prince and Gounod’s new leading lady.
"Everyone desires social advancement, but if Miss Peildon’s dreams of becoming Crown Princess, someone ought to advise her."
"Surely she wouldn't lack that much decency? You saw the papers. It seems that woman is aiming to be the queen of the opera world."
"The Crown Prince at the Center of Reform: Shattering the History and Tradition of the Royal Opera House"
The topic that had been heating up the pages these past few days was truly unprecedented. Their concern was whether Christine Peildon truly possessed the capability for such a role.
After paving the way so spectacularly, failing the audition would be an utter disgrace.
"Good heavens! Isn't that Miss Cecilia Deimos over there?"
A lady leaning her slender upper body against the railing and scanning the hall cried out in surprise. The box she pointed to with her fan tip was the Royal Box, positioned alongside the Royal Family's private box.
"My, what a surprise! The Royal Opera House's leading stars paying a visit to the Gounod Theatre?"
All eyes turned to Cecilia Demos, who entered accompanied by her Royal Opera House colleagues like attendants.
Beneath her long opera cloak, a splendid olive-green satin dress, embroidered with gold thread near the chest, shimmered elegantly in the chandelier light.
With an emerald necklace—a gift from the Crown Prince—adorned on her fair, slender neck, Cecilia resembled a queen radiating grace.
"Frankly speaking, it's such a waste for her to become the Crown Princess of Arsen. Isn't it a shame to seek a Crown Princess abroad when we have Miss Deimos right here?"
"Even so, it does seem a bit awkward in this day and age. They're cousins, after all. But seeing her show up at the GounodTheater, a place she never visited before, suggests Miss Peildon is on her mind, doesn't it?"
" From what I see, Miss Deimos has feelings for His Highness. So of course she'd be concerned. About Miss Peildon, who's called the Crown Prince's lover. Wouldn't you agree? Truly, no two people are as well-suited as—"
"Mind your words, madam. Don't risk falling out of favor with the Duke of Deimos."
The elderly noblewoman delivered a sharp rebuke to the countess who chattered without restraint.
Cecilia Deimos, with an elegant smile and dignified bearing, silenced the commotion about her.
Her manner of acknowledging each person who exchanged glances with her across the box seats was also perfectly befitting a Crown Princess.
"Truly the daughter of Princess Charlotte, and of the Belov dynasty's bloodline. "
By the time the chatter began to die down, all the empty seats were filled.
As the footlights on stage came on, a round glow spread across the deep red curtain. The sounds of orchestra members tuning their instruments as they entered the pit mingled with the noise from the audience.
"His Highness hasn't arrived yet, I suppose?"
Rosaline, more interested in the Crown Prince's movements than the performance, peered into the adjacent box seat and brought up the topic.
"He might be in Miss Peildon’s private dressing room. He'd surely be a spectacle here."
At one lady's remark, the box seat atmosphere turned as cold as if doused with ice water. The very thought was unbearably unpleasant.
The chandeliers, which had hung low over the audience's heads, began rising in unison toward the ceiling. Simultaneously, a faint darkness swept a silence through the auditorium. Cecilia's gaze, fixed straight ahead, was as still as a dark blue forest.
The overture resounded, and soon the red curtain slowly rose, flooding the space with bright light.
Beneath the dazzling lights, Violet, surrounded by gentlemen, sat reclined on a chaise longue in a dress that sensually revealed her shoulders. Her slender hand held a crystal glass.
As the lively melody of the strings collided with the timbre of the wind instruments, rippling out toward the audience like waves, Violet rose, taking a gentleman's hand. Moving like a flower petal drifting on water, she began her aria.
🎶Life is like a spring day
🎶Love is like a fleeting spring day
🎶Let us enjoy our lives
The joyful melody made shoulders sway involuntarily, her enchanting voice captivating the audience's eyes and ears. As layers of lace, gleaming golden in the spotlight, rippled ecstatically beneath Christine's feet, the theater erupted in a feverish festival atmosphere.
🎶As if tomorrow never comes
When Violet, the woman who lived only for today, raised her toast high, the glasses of the gentlemen surrounding her also soared into the air.
🎶In this short life, only pleasure holds meaning
🎶Share love with me
The soprano's light solo soon became a duet joined by the tenor, then a magnificent chorus sung by all on stage, filling the Gounod Theatre.
🎶One day, fortune came my way
🎶You, shining so brightly
🎶My heart broke that very day
The tenor's heartrending yet captivating voice dominated the stage, resonating powerfully. The noblewomen, who had sought solace from the long, lonely winter nights through the handsome appearance and singing voice, let out a low gasp.
Moving her body to the sweet rhythm, Christine's gaze unconsciously scanned the audience. As if searching for something.
The tenor playing Alejandro gently placed his hand on Christine's shoulder.
Christine snapped back to reality.
It was her turn.
Gently pushing the tenor's chest, she spun once. The train of her dress flared out in a circle before returning to its place.
🎶Pure one,
🎶All I can give you is friendship.
Christine's beautiful voice soared. Her gaze, naturally sweeping over the audience, rose a little higher. Up to the Royal Box.
The royal box sat starkly empty. Filled with spectators, the empty space stood out all the more.
The Crown Prince kept his promise. Therefore, the deal was done.
So just like this.
She ascended the stage of the Royal Opera House by his power, and he fell asleep to her voice.
Without any sincerity.
Just like this.
***
It was a flawless performance, without a single misstep.
When Christine ascended to the dressing room for Act II, her eyes widened. The reason was the bouquets piled so high there was barely room to stand.
Christine picked up one of the rose bouquets stacked in layers on the sideboard and inhaled its scent. True to its reputation as the queen of flowers, it exuded a rich, sensual fragrance, but Christine preferred flowers with a sweeter scent. Come to think of it...
Christine slowly scanned the dressing room.
The gardenia bouquet was nowhere to be seen.
She hadn't been expecting one, exactly. It felt odd.
Christine set the bouquet down and approached the dressing table. It was then she noticed the snow-white envelope resting among the deep red blooms.
[Christine Peildon.]
The letters were printed on the paper. As if cut out from a newspaper. The uneven, crooked arrangement of each character, varying in size, felt unsettling.
Perhaps someone with a peculiar hobby.
'Where the hell have you been without a word! Do you have any idea how worried I was, thinking that Count Mason or whoever had kidnapped you?'
Daisy's worried words suddenly came to mind.
The man who had caused a scene demanding to see her, only to be subdued on Count Gounod’s orders and ultimately banned from the theater altogether.
A sudden chill gripped Christine.
Taking a deep breath, she sat down in her chair, adjusted the lever of the gas lamp to brighten the light, and picked up the letter.
Her fingertips, cold with an eerie foreboding, trembled slightly.
She opened the unsealed envelope, pulled out the neatly folded letter, and slowly unfolded it.
“…..!”
Her heart lurched, and her pale hand clutching the letter trembled like a quivering aspen.
Only a single line was written on the letter.
[I know who your biological father is.]
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