I’m Stuck on a Remote Island With the Male Leads - Side Story 23

***

Lady Hynt sat on the terrace of a café overlooking the central square of Burneton, the capital. Most nobles had secured spots at hotels and cafés with a view of the square, paying a premium for the privilege.

“How much longer until the ignition ceremony?” one lady asked.

“About an hour,” replied another.

“A noble lady doing the ignition? Is she capable?”

“I know, right? It’s Lady Floné. Even if she’s changed since the Alea incident, how can she climb that high tower and light the fire?” another chimed in.

Lady Hynt listened to their murmurs and looked up at the tall bell tower in the central square. It was hard to believe that a noble lady would do such a dangerous task.

“She can’t even use matches?” another girl asked.

“That would break tradition,” someone replied.

“Oh my, so she’s using flint? Can Lady Floné really do it?”

The girls’ table buzzed with skepticism, and Lady Hynt found herself agreeing with them.

“Do you think the Crown Prince orchestrated this?” one lady speculated.

“What do you mean?” asked another.

“Everyone in the Empire knows that His Highness despised and loathed Lady Floné for a long time.”

“True,” they nodded.

“But he changed after the Alea incident.”

“Indeed, it was unexpected,” they agreed.

“Maybe the enchantment finally wore off. The love’s expiration date has passed. Perhaps His Highness intends to humiliate her to cut ties.”

Everyone nodded in agreement, and Lady Hynt found herself sympathizing with this perspective—that Enoch’s love for Margaret was only temporary. However, she believed Enoch wasn’t the type to ruin a national event just to embarrass a noblewoman.

“Honestly, if Lady Floné hadn’t acted so exceptionally, we’d all have had more chances to catch the Crown Prince’s eye.”

“Exactly. As I recall, Lady Hynt and Lady Richmond also had unrequited feelings for the Crown Prince.”

All eyes turned to Lady Hynt, who fanned herself awkwardly.

“Well, it’s no surprise. I’m sure many here have admired His Highness at some point.”

Awkward sounds of fans fluttering filled the air as they recalled their past infatuations.

Enoch was the kind of man every noble debutante had likely fancied at least once. With his breathtaking looks and noble demeanor, he was a living dream. His commanding presence, broad shoulders, tall stature, and finely sculpted physique were captivating. His jet-black hair, reminiscent of a dark night sky, gave him an imposing aura, while his sharp, icy features added to his aloof charm.

His polite, knightly manners and kindness only made the contrast more alluring to the ladies.

Above all, Enoch was the crown prince without rivals, the handsome war hero beloved by the people—a title that held immense allure.

Yet, these were merely the perspectives of the women who admired him.

“Do you all think Lady Floné was the only thing stopping you from approaching him?”

Lady Hynt did not believe this. Deep down, the ladies here all knew it too.

Enoch was polite and kind but distant. An invisible wall and a strict boundary allowed these two opposing traits to coexist. He was uninterested in any woman except Margaret Rose Floné.

While it was said he hated and loathed her, she was the only one who elicited a genuine emotional response from him.

“And everyone knows the rumors about His Highness proposing to Lady Floné during this festival, right? It sounds like jealousy to me.”

“Oh, jealousy! That’s a bit much, Lady Hynt.”

Uncomfortable murmurs arose, but someone soon backed her up.

“It’s jealousy, of course. Can anyone here confidently say they’re more beautiful than Lady Floné?”

Nobody responded.

Margaret’s beauty was said to be the greatest in the empire, though her unruly personality had overshadowed it until now.

“Yes, honestly, I always wanted to befriend Lady Floné. She’s so beautiful.”

“I’ve wanted to ask her what perfume she uses.”

“Honestly, when it comes to conditions and circumstances, there’s no one more perfect for the position of empress than Lady Floné. Now she’s won the people’s hearts, too, so she has the justification.”

“I was too scared to approach her before, but she seems calmer after the Alea incident.”

“Maybe we should send her an invitation sometime?”

The ladies revealed their true feelings, eager to befriend Margaret rather than speak ill of her. They didn’t mention it openly, but everyone already knew that Enoch’s passionate love for Margaret was well-known within the Langridge imperial palace. There was even talk of a gallery dedicated to Margaret within the palace.

Just then, Margaret appeared at the top of the tower.

“It’s starting. What if she embarrasses herself?”

“Langridge’s fireworks festival gathers people from all over the continent. It would be a national disgrace.”

“Brace yourselves. Even if Lady Floné is exceptional, this will likely end in failure.”

Most spectators remained skeptical as they gazed up at the tower.

***

The spire at the central square in Burneton.

Enoch’s chief aide, James, clutched the railing with trembling hands. The spire was impressively tall.

After climbing the spiral staircase, about seven stories high, one would reach the observation deck. This was where they stood.

The deck could accommodate about ten adults, and journalists from various countries, Enoch, James, festival officials, and a few guards were expected to be there. Margaret had to climb a ladder higher up by herself, where only one person could go.

James checked his pocket watch. It was almost time to set off the fireworks.

‘So hot.’

He put the watch away and pulled out a handkerchief to wipe the sweat from his forehead and neck. It was a sweltering summer night.

‘She’s not even breaking a sweat.’

Enoch, who was speaking with Margaret, seemed unaffected by the heat. So did Margaret. She appeared used to hotter weather, as if this was nothing to her.

“It’s time for you to climb to the top,” the ignition ceremony conductor said to Margaret. Once she fired the flare into the sky from the top, the festival would begin.

“Can a noble lady even climb that ladder? She has to light a fire with flint too. It’d be lucky if she doesn’t cry,” one of the reporters whispered.

“Oh, that infamous brat from the Langridge Empire? I remember because it’s an unseemly nickname for a noble lady,” another commented.

“When did those rumors change? Still calling her a brat?” another chimed in.

James heard the foreign journalists whispering. They thought they were being discreet, but James was close enough to hear. Fortunately, Enoch and Margaret seemed too engrossed in their own world to hear the reporters’ chatter.

James quickly turned his head when he saw the two exchanging a kiss. No matter how beautiful the couple was, watching his superior’s public display of affection was not something he wanted to see.

As he shook his head, he heard more murmurs from the journalists.

“What’s she doing?”

James looked up. Margaret, in riding attire, was tying a rope around her waist. She was remarkably adept and natural at it. She gestured to the ladder while speaking with Enoch, securing the rope around her waist and thighs as if it were second nature.

Noticing the attention she was receiving, she smiled and said, “Just in case I fall.”

While everyone was still trying to process the situation, she began climbing the ladder. Cheers erupted from those watching below.

“She doesn’t seem ordinary,” one remarked.

“But wouldn’t it be difficult to light a fire?” another asked. “It looks hard to maintain balance up there.”

Their predictions seemed to come true in a surprising way. Suddenly, the ladder she was climbing broke.

“Damn! The ladder…?!”

Just this morning, James had confirmed the ladder’s sturdiness with the festival officials and even ran simulations.

Panicking, James looked for Enoch, but he was nowhere to be seen.

‘No, the priority is to save Lady Floné…!’

But then, something even more astonishing happened.

Margaret remained calm, throwing the rope to secure it at the top. A hook at the end caught the spire’s railing securely.

She then started climbing the rope without the ladder. James recalled how Margaret had started wrapping the rope around herself while talking to Enoch, seemingly preparing for this scenario.

“Could she have anticipated this…?”

Silence fell over the noisy deck.

“…What exactly does she do? Is she really a noble lady?” someone muttered, breaking the silence.

It was the same question James had asked Enoch a few days ago.