A week later, the royal court held a grand charity banquet aimed at raising funds for the construction of a new cathedral. As a prominent noble family, the Smiths were naturally invited.
Lady Isabella paced anxiously in Emily's room, worry written all over her face.
"Emily, are you sure you want to attend tonight's banquet?" she asked, concerned. "After what happened at the last tea party…"
"Mother, I can't hide at home forever," Emily said as she arranged her hair in the mirror. "Besides, it's a charity event. I ought to do my part for the church."
System Notification: Host, this is a great opportunity! You can showcase your charm tonight!
I know, Emily replied inwardly. But Edmund sees me as a lunatic now. That makes things... difficult.
System Notification: Trust the original plot! Tonight's drunken incident will change the way he sees you!
William entered, dressed in a black formal suit, looking handsome and composed.
"Sister, are you ready?" he asked. "Father is waiting downstairs."
"Almost," Emily said, picking up a pearl necklace. "William, how do I look tonight?"
William examined her carefully. Emily wore a deep emerald velvet gown, embroidered with golden floral patterns at the hem. Her chestnut-brown hair was pinned up in an elegant chignon, with a few loose strands framing her face gently. The pearls glimmered against her pale neck, giving her a noble and alluring presence.
"You look beautiful, Sister," he said sincerely. "But…"
"But what?"
"I'm worried you'll do something… odd again," William frowned. "Especially in front of Duke Edmund."
Emily sighed. "William, he already thinks I'm insane. Can it really get any worse?"
"That's exactly what concerns me," he said sternly. "You can't give up on yourself."
The banquet was held in the grand royal hall, illuminated by countless candles and adorned with gold and crimson drapery. Nobles mingled in splendid attire, engaging in refined conversation.
The arrival of the Smith family caused a minor stir. Many turned their heads, curious to see the infamous "madwoman."
"Miss Smith looks quite lovely tonight," someone whispered. "But will she say something strange again?"
"Let's hope she behaves normally this time," another voice murmured. "This is a charity banquet, after all."
Edmund stood in one corner of the hall, wearing a navy velvet coat and the Montfort family crest on his chest. He looked every bit the noble duke. When he saw Emily, he momentarily froze.
She truly was stunning tonight. But it wasn't just the dress—it was her poise in the face of scrutiny. She held herself with grace, undeterred by whispers.
"Your Grace," said Sir Gareth beside him, "Miss Smith looks rather elegant this evening."
"Yes," Edmund replied coolly, "but outer beauty cannot mask inner madness."
Gareth sighed. His lord had grown stubborn when it came to Emily.
After King Henry III gave a speech about the importance of charity, the guests applauded. Emily listened intently, nodding in agreement at the king's remarks.
"She seems perfectly normal," someone whispered. "Maybe the rumors are exaggerated."
"Don't be so sure," Lady Adelaide interjected coldly. "The night is still young."
During dinner, Emily was seated near the main table, between a young earl and a viscountess.
"Miss Smith," the earl said politely, "I hear you're quite passionate about charity?"
"I am," Emily smiled. "Helping those in need is a moral duty."
"How do you think we can better support the poor?"
Emily considered for a moment, then said, "Aside from financial aid, we should provide educational opportunities. Give a man a fish, he eats for a day. Teach him to fish, and he eats for life."
Her answer drew admiring looks. It was thoughtful and articulate.
Edmund, seated nearby, overheard the exchange. He was surprised. This didn't sound like the ramblings of a madwoman.
As wine was served, Emily intended to decline—but decided to accept a glass out of courtesy.
"This wine is fragrant," she whispered to William. "It has a floral note."
"Sister, your tolerance is low. Go easy," he cautioned.
"I know," Emily nodded. "Just a sip."
But the wine was sweet and seemingly light. Unknowingly, Emily drank several glasses.
"Miss Smith," the viscountess asked gently, "your cheeks are flushed. Are you alright?"
"I'm fine," Emily slurred slightly. "The wine… is delicious…"
William noticed her swaying and grew alarmed. "Sister, let's go home."
"No," Emily stood abruptly, wobbling. "I haven't… haven't donated yet…"
She staggered toward the head table. All eyes turned to her.
"She's drunk," someone whispered. "This should be entertaining."
Edmund watched her approach, conflicted. Her vulnerable state stirred something protective within him.
"Your Grace," Emily mumbled, reaching him. "I… I need to speak with you."
"Miss Smith, you're drunk," Edmund said curtly. "Please return to your seat."
"I'm not drunk," she insisted. "Just… just dizzy."
She stumbled forward and fell into his arms, clinging tightly around his waist.
"Don't let go," she whispered. "I'm cold… so cold…"
Edmund stiffened. Her warmth, the scent of her hair—he felt his pulse quicken.
"Miss Smith, let go," he said, attempting to push her off.
"No… don't leave me," she murmured, teary-eyed. "I'm scared… scared of the dark…"
The murmurs around them intensified. But Edmund couldn't bring himself to push her away.
"Your Grace!" William rushed over, apologetic. "Forgive her—she's suffering from a strange affliction."
"What kind of affliction?" Edmund asked, frowning.
William improvised quickly: "She… she imagines herself a woodland creature. When she sees tall people, she instinctively clings to them for warmth. Especially to someone as tall and imposing as you."
Laughter rippled through the crowd.
"Like a koala clinging to a tree," William added. "It makes her feel safe."
"A koala?" Edmund asked, puzzled.
"It's… an animal from the Far East," William explained. "They never let go of trees."
System Notification: Host's little brother is impressively creative!
I can barely hear anything… Emily thought weakly. But he's so warm…
"So it's not her fault," William pleaded. "Please don't blame her."
Edmund looked down at Emily. Her cheeks were flushed, her eyes closed. She truly looked like a frightened little animal.
"It's fine," he finally said. "I'll… tolerate it."
"You will?" William was surprised.
"Yes," Edmund nodded. "If it's a sickness, then she's not to blame."
"Such mercy from the duke," someone whispered. "Any other man would've shoved her off."
Edmund ignored the praise. His focus was solely on Emily, who remained in his arms, breathing softly. Minutes passed. Then an hour. She refused to let go.
"Miss Smith," he whispered, "are you awake?"
Emily stirred, lifting her head. Her gaze was hazy from wine, but her eyes remained clear.
"You're handsome," she said honestly. "Even more than I imagined."
Edmund's heart skipped.
"Thank you…" he muttered, unsure how to respond.
"And you're warm," she added. "Like a fireplace in winter."
He flushed. This woman always caught him off guard.
"How do you feel now?" he asked gently.
"Wonderful," she sighed. "I could stay here forever."
"You can't," he replied quickly. "My legs… are numb."
Emily finally loosened her grip, swaying slightly.
"Sorry," she mumbled.
"It's alright," Edmund steadied her. "Does this illness… happen often?"
"I don't know," Emily said honestly. "This was the first time."
William reappeared. "Sister, let's go home. You need rest."
"Alright," she nodded, then turned to Edmund. "Thank you… for your patience."
"No thanks needed," he said. "I hope you recover soon."
As William helped her out, Edmund watched her leave, his emotions tangled.
"Your Grace?" Gareth approached. "Are you alright?"
"I'm fine," Edmund said, flexing his legs. "Just… does she really have a sickness?"
"It seems like it," Gareth replied. "But she looked peaceful in your arms."
"She did," Edmund said softly. "So trusting…"
"Trusting?"
"She clung to me without fear. Like… a cub to its mother."
Gareth noticed the shift in his master's tone. "Your opinion of her… is changing, isn't it?"
Edmund paused. "Maybe… maybe she's ill, not insane."
"There's a difference?"
"Of course. Madness is incurable. Illness can be treated."
Gareth nodded thoughtfully. Tonight had clearly changed Edmund's heart.
Meanwhile, in the Smiths' carriage, Emily leaned on William's shoulder.
"William," she murmured, "what did I just do?"
"You hugged the Duke for an hour," he said, exasperated. "And I invented something called koala disease."
"Koala disease?" Emily giggled. "That's… creative."
"You're not mad?"
"No," she patted his hand. "You did great. And honestly… hugging him felt really good."
"Sister!"
"What? He's tall, warm, and safe."
System Notification: Host, excellent performance! The male lead's view of you has begun to change!
Really? Emily asked mentally.
System Notification: Yes! He now sees you as someone needing protection—not a madwoman!
That's progress?
System Notification: Absolutely! From disdain to sympathy—you're one step closer to love!
Emily closed her eyes, recalling his embrace. Warm, protective, and steady—like nothing she'd ever known.
"William," she whispered, "do you think there's a cure for my 'koala disease'?"
"What do you mean?"
"I mean…" she grinned slyly, "if my treatment requires frequent hugs from the Duke, do you think he'll agree?"
William blinked, then sighed. "You're… too clever."
"And brave," Emily said. "In love, every woman needs a little courage."
The carriage rolled into the night, and for the first time, Emily felt a flicker of real hope.
Maybe—just maybe—this "koala episode" would become the turning point in her story with Edmund.
Back at Montfort Castle, Edmund sat in his study, utterly unable to focus on paperwork. His mind replayed the warmth of her embrace, the trust in her voice, and her simple praise:
"You're handsome."
"Maybe," he whispered to himself, "I need to reconsider her."
The moonlight spilled through the window, casting shadows on the face of a proud duke—one who, for the first time, found himself losing sleep… over a woman.