Chapter 93.2
Viscount Faylot’s eyes narrowed his eyes as he scanned Canillia up and down. She stood before him, clad in trousers, with an air of nonchalance that was quite unnerving.
“May I know who you are?” he asked, his tone laced with curiosity. “And which family do you belong to?”
Canillia t his gaze without flinching. “I’m Canillia,” she replied firmly. “I have no family to speak of. That’s why I’m applying for Grade 1 – I want to earn a title for myself.”
The viscount studied her closely, his curiosity growing with each passing mont. He was used to seeing candidates from prestigious households, who were quick to flaunt their wealth and social standing. But here was Canillia – a lone wolf, who had submitted her application without so much as a bow.
He couldn’t help but feel intrigued by her sharp-tongued manner and unwavering confidence. For a woman to apply for Grade 1 was unheard of, and Viscount Faylot had never encountered such a case before. It was common knowledge that won mostly ca to obtain a teaching certificate, while n sought a title to elevate their status.
The viscount’s gaze lingered on Canillia, who sat on the bench with an air of amazent. He studied her for a mont, taking in her fiery erald eyes and her sharp features, before returning his attention to the permit and application forms.
He frowned as he read through the papers, sensing that sothing was amiss. Finally, he looked up and t Canillia’s gaze.
“I heard that everyone is given an equal opportunity. Is there a problem with my application?” she asked, her voice firm.
The viscount shook his head. “No, there’s no issue with your application. However, there is an exam fee that needs to be paid in gold. It’s 98 gold, to be exact. Do you have the amount with you?”
Canillia’s expression fell at the ntion of the fee. “Oh, I didn’t know I needed money. Can I pay with jewels?”
The viscount sighed inwardly, his suspicions confird. “It depends on the value of the jewels,” he said patiently. “But let remind you, Lady, that you need to have the necessary qualifications to obtain a noble title.”
Canillia nodded, her eyes downcast. “I understand. If I don’t have enough, I’ll pay the exam fee by tomorrow.”
“Show what you have for now,” Viscount Faylot requested, gesturing for Canillia to approach.
Canillia approached him calmly, her fingers deftly undoing the hairpin that secured her hair. As she did, her long golden hair cascaded down her shoulders and back, a vision of beauty and elegance.
“T-This is a sapphire from the east. It’s treated as more valuable than gold, as far as I know,” Canillia said, holding out the hairpin to the viscount.
The ntion of the East made Viscount Faylot’s eyes widen in surprise. The hairpin that Canillia handed him was a top-grade blue sapphire that was only found in the Cosoar region. The owner of that sapphire was Vale, and not a single piece could be supplied as a craft without permission from Vale. Only the royal family was known to use it.
But here was a woman with an eastern sapphire.
“Is it really an eastern sapphire?” the viscount asked, examining the gem closely with a loupe.
Canillia nodded, a hint of pride in her voice. Viscount Faylot’s hand trembled slightly as he finished his appraisal. It was an authentic piece of value, complete with the royal seal engraved on it.
Viscount Faylot, the proprietor of a renowned jewelry store in Del Casa, spoke out confidently and without much thought, ordering the guards to apprehend a woman nad Canillia and accusing her of being a thief.
Startled by the sudden commotion, Canillia turned to the guards who had rushed in and vehently protested to the nobleman.
“I am not a thief! That belongs to !”
“What nonsense! How can soone without noble status like you own sothing that belongs to the royal family? Take her to the police station right now!” retorted the viscount.
“Viscount!” Canillia shook off the grip of the guard who had seized her. With her resolute deanor, she stopped not only the guard but also the viscount who was shouting and looked him straight in the eye.
An irate Canillia approached the count with firm steps and then extended her hand to him.
“If you accuse of theft, you are making a grave error.”
“Oh really? Have you stolen sothing that belongs to the rightful owner?” the viscount sneered.
“The rightful owner of that object is present here. I am not a thief. If you require any gold, you may approach again. But for now, I implore you to not make a mistake and return it to ,” replied Canillia with confidence.
“What? A mistake? What is everyone doing? Didn’t you hear say to arrest this woman right away?” bellowed Viscount Faylot in disbelief, his face contorted with rage.
Canillia looked at the viscount, who was pulling his hair and screaming, with a bewildered expression on her face. She then turned to the guard who stood motionless beside her.
“If you go outside, my escort will be waiting for . Shall I summon him?” she inquired calmly.
“An escort? Did you hire rcenaries with stolen money?!” accused the viscount with a sneer.
“I believe you are mistaken. I shall prove my innocence shortly. Please refrain from making any further baseless accusations,” Canillia responded resolutely.
The viscount, determined to take matters into his own hands, picked up the phone to call the authorities.
anwhile, Canillia felt her heart sink with frustration. She had only co to the store to submit an application, having had so free ti after volunteering at the convent. No one had offered to assist her in her financial struggles, and the hairpin she had given to the count was just one of many items in her jewelry box.
“If only I had known it was so valuable, I would not have given it away,” she lanted.
As she contemplated her predicant, Canillia realized that the only person who could vouch for her innocence was Ivan.
Suddenly, a commotion could be heard approaching the reception area, as if soone had just arrived. The viscount, who had been glaring at Canillia while holding the phone, turned his head to face the newcor.
The phone slipped from his hand and hit the floor with a loud thud, as he gaped in utter disbelief.
As Canillia watched the viscount’s face turn pale with terror, she too turned to face the mysterious guest, a sense of unease creeping over her.
“If you had reported my lady, I would have been quite disappointed,” said the newcor in a calm yet nacing tone.
“Y-Your Grace…!” stamred Viscount Faylot, eyes widening in horror.
Claude passed by Canillia and approached the viscount, who bent his waist at a ninety-degree angle in deference. Claude picked up the fallen receiver and placed it back on the stand.
“Long ti no see, Viscount,” he greeted him with a wry smile.
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