138: Chapter 138: Reactions from All Sides at the Beauty Pageant! Sylvia is filled with regret!

Just as the news of Count Golden Flame's million-gold beauty pageant swept through the North.

This overly unorthodox news naturally reached the ears of other interested parties.

The North, Will Province, Aksai City.

Duke Weiduns Estate.

This estate was less a noble residence and more a heavily fortified military fortress.

The towering spires overlooked most of Aksai City, and the traces of time and war on the walls silently spoke of this family's eight-hundred-year reign and authority in the North.

Deep within the manor, in a study.

A massive military map of the North and its surrounding regions hung on the wall, marked with various symbols and threads indicating troop deployment points.

Duke Witton, Childe Witton.

Besides being one of the six Grand Dukes of the North, he was also one of the three Generals of the Imperial Military Department in the North, and his Xuanfeng Heavy Cavalry Legion guarded the critical border city of Linfeng City.

At this moment, he held a secret report from Gino County in his hand.

It detailed the various measures taken by Rowan Flynn since taking office, especially the budget and promotional details regarding the beauty pageant.

Standing respectfully by his side was a middle-aged officer in a crisp staff uniform.

The Duke's gaze swept quickly over phrases like "estimated million-gold budget," "selecting handmaidens and female officials," and "ten thousand gold for first place."

He read quickly, but missed no details.

A moment later, he casually tossed the intelligence onto the thick mahogany desk.

Then, he let out an undisguised sneer, filled with contempt and mockery.

"Heh... A million gold coins, used for a beauty pageant?"

His voice was low and hoarse: "A young man suddenly attaining a high position, having his head turned by wealth, power, and beauty, and now acting recklessly, is that it?"

"Thinking that just because he's latched onto a great family from the Imperial Capital, he can do whatever he wants in the North?" He shook his head, a cold disdain flashing in his eyes.

"Very well." Duke Witton sat up straight again, his gaze turning to the massive map of the North, his eyes becoming deep and cold:

"Let him make a mess of it. Let him stir the waters of Gino County even more, and waste whatever lingering attention the Church has on these absurdities."

"Let him become the laughingstock of the Northern noble circle, cutting himself off from the traditional powers."

He paused, his tone flat, yet carrying an indifference that decided the life and death of others:

"First, concentrate our strength and find a way to deal with that old dog, Balder Lance."

"Once this new wind from the Church has completely blown over, then we can turn back and slowly clean up the mess in Gino County."

"A nouveau riche Earl with shallow foundations and absurd conduct..."

"However, since he wants to hold a beauty pageant, let's find some people to send over."

Duke Witton glanced at the secret report and continued:

"I hear it is highly likely that he is cultivating a Perfect-grade Breathing Method."

"I am quite interested in that."

"Yes, my lord." The middle-aged staff officer bowed to accept the order, his movements clean and efficient.

... Meanwhile. The Imperial Capital, Seran City. Windsor Family estate.

Deep within the estate, in a small building belonging exclusively to core family members, the atmosphere was exceptionally quiet.

Aria Windsor's room shared the same style as her previous quiet room in Gino City. Simple, unostentatious.

Outside the massive floor-to-ceiling windows was a beautiful snow-covered courtyard; inside, there was only simple furniture, bookshelves filled to the brim, and a tidy desk.

She was dressed in simple, elegant moon-white loungewear, her silver hair draped casually behind her shoulders.

At this moment, she was sitting in a soft chair by the window, also holding a briefing on the recent situation in Gino County.

Her gaze swept calmly over the keywords on the briefing. "Count Golden Flame, Rowan Flynn," "Beauty Pageant," "Million-gold Budget"...

Her ice-blue eyes were like two frozen deep lakes, without a single ripple.

There was no surprise, no anger, and not a single shred of emotional fluctuation.

However, the temperature in the room seemed to be dropping silently.

She read very carefully. She did not miss a single word.

When she saw "The Count will personally attend every selection to observe," her slender, jade-like fingers tightened almost imperceptibly.

After a long while, she gently put down the briefing.

A wisp of pure white-gold flame ignited. The briefing silently turned into a pinch of gray-white ashes.

A breeze blew past... That briefing seemed as if it had never existed.

... The West, Twilight Creek Plains, Golan Fortress. Lenhe Magic Tower.

Sylvia Latour's private laboratory maintained that otherworldly silence.

Magic hummed in the air, and various complex magic arrays and instruments emitted a faint glow.

Sylvia stood before an experimental workbench, with a complex spatial model floating in front of her.

But her gaze was not focused on the model; instead, she stared somewhat distractedly into the void ahead.

She was also holding a magical missive in her hand, which, through a mental imprint, conveyed synchronized news from the family's intelligence network in the Imperial Capital—about Gino County, about Count Golden Flame. About that beauty pageant currently causing such a stir in the North...

After reading the briefing, her emerald eyes widened slightly. Her pupils contracted almost imperceptibly.

Her red lips, perfectly outlined like the glow of sunset, pressed tightly into a straight line of faint anger.

A feeling of extreme speechlessness instantly exploded in her heart, surging and rising!

There was astonishment, absurdity, a hint of unspeakable embarrassment, and even more... a sense of stifling frustration so strong it surprised even herself!

"That... bastard!!!"

Sylvia squeezed a few icy words through her teeth.

She gritted her silver teeth, and a faint sound like ice crystals rubbing against each other seemed to emerge from between them.

She suddenly felt some regret.

Regret that when she received his transmission back then, she didn't immediately cut off the connection.

Regret for that momentary, uncontrollable softness in her heart when she heard him mention the children.

She really shouldn't have held any expectations or fantasies about this bastard!

But she also never expected—

That this guy, having just sat on The Count's throne, with his position yet to be secured, instead of thinking about reorganizing his territory, consolidating his power, and dealing with potential enemies...

Actually poured the huge wealth he had finally obtained into such an absurd, outrageous beauty pageant that was destined to become the laughingstock of the entire Empire!

And he even prettified it by calling it selecting female officials?

He really was as shameless and lecherous as ever!

Thinking that she had actually used precious family political capital for such a person...

Sylvia felt a wave of intense absurdity and self-doubt well up in her heart.

She could even imagine—

How the forces in the Imperial Capital currently watching this matter, especially those rivals who didn't get along with the Latour Family, would look at this failed investment by the Latour Family with such sneering and mocking eyes.

What made her even more frustrated was—

That he was so ostentatiously selecting handmaidens and female officials, and even threatened to personally attend to observe...

Did this mean—

He was going to have new women?!

This inexplicable emotion made her even more furious; she was angry at his absurdity, but also angry at herself for experiencing such intense fluctuations because of it!

"Miss?" A gentle, worried female voice sounded from the side.

It was her personal maid and assistant, Winona.

This maid, who hadn't been with Sylvia for long, was calm and meticulous in nature.

At this moment, she looked at her mistress with some surprise.

In her impression, her mistress was always a cold, rational, elegant magic genius who seemed to have everything under control, the most dazzling and unreachable star on the Latour Family's tower.

She had seen the solemnity of her mistress when focused on experiments, the calmness when dealing with crises, and the faint longing she occasionally revealed...

But she had never seen such a complex, vivid expression on her mistress's face, one even carrying a hint of annoyance and regret.

This simply... didn't look like the mistress she knew.

Sylvia snapped back to reality, realizing her loss of composure.

She quickly suppressed all the emotions on her face, regaining the calmness that belonged to a magic genius.

Only the lingering ripples deep within her emerald eyes and her slightly heaving chest showed that her heart was far from as calm as it appeared on the surface.

"It's nothing, Winona."

Her voice was cold as she casually placed the magical missive in her hand onto the experimental table, as if it were some unimportant scrap of paper.

"Just some... boring news. Continue recording the resonance data of the seventh spatial node."

"Yes, Miss." Winona obediently lowered her head and began operating the recording instrument, but the corner of her eye couldn't help but glance at the missive that her mistress had tossed aside, her heart filled with curiosity and doubt.

What kind of news could make her mistress show such an expression?

Sylvia turned her gaze back to the rotating spatial model in front of her, forcing herself to concentrate.

But those words about "beauty pageant," "million gold coins," and "personally observe" lingered in her mind like mischievous ghosts, interfering with her focus.

She suddenly felt that the whistling wind on the Twilight Creek Plains outside Golan Fortress seemed even more annoying than usual.