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And Yevgenia would humbly accept such criticism.
Even a brief thought would reveal that there was a simpler way to drive Raymond—who had dared to engage in a bidding war with none other than 'Princess Martyr' just to satisfy his pride—into utter despair.
'The method of stimulating Raymond with small, incremental bids, and then dropping out the moment he calls the maximum amount he can possibly afford.'
If the amount reached a point where one had to scrape the bottom and dig deep into the earth, even a man driven mad by love would be forced back to his senses for a moment.
Knowing all this, the reason she insisted on obtaining that Rose of Light was...
'...No matter how trivial it is in the original story, if I can twist it, I want to twist it all.'
While the love between Raymond and Stella might be unstoppable, trivial human relationships or mere objects were things Yevgenia could easily obstruct with her own power.
If she could snatch away an item with such a significant role in the original story as the Rose of Light through a simple display of financial extravagance, it was a profitable trade.
'If a love can be derailed simply because the object offered during a confession has changed, then it wasn't destiny to begin with.'
As she thought this, one corner of Yevgenia's mouth curled up crookedly.
She simply could not resist mocking their shallow love.
"100 million gold, 100 million gold! Are there any further bids? If not, I will call it three times and close the auction."
A suppressed excitement could be felt in the auctioneer's voice.
No matter how notorious the Peton Auction House was, it had been a long time since they had seen a bid as high as 100 million gold.
Since it was an official auction house attended by the Imperial Family, black money buried in the depths of the underworld could not interfere.
Consequently, 100 million gold was an amount rarely seen unless billionaire merchants entered a bidding war or high-ranking nobles, such as those from a Ducal house, were involved.
"100 million gold, 100 million gold, 100 million gold!"
The auctioneer, glancing around while holding the smooth gavel, shouted slowly.
Naturally, no one else intervened.
Bang bang bang—
With the cheerful sound of the gavel,
"Item number 17 has been sold to bidder number 7 for 100 million gold!"
The declaration of Yevgenia's complete victory rang out.
* * *
After winning the Rose of Light, Yevgenia left the auction house immediately.
She hadn't come out of interest in the auction anyway, so she had no lingering regrets.
Moreover, if she continued to sit there, baseless rumors might spread that she was still concerned about Raymond.
Thus, Yevgenia spent her time in the powder room provided by the auction house until Anna returned.
'I told her to hand over the family crest plaque and request that the item be delivered directly to the House of Martyr, but it might still take a while.'
She had heard that most people, after winning an expensive auction item, joyfully take the object with them.
However, Yevgenia could not put her mind at ease even after winning.
Considering Raymond, who seemed to have completely lost his mind recently, she thought there was a high possibility he might recklessly board the House of Martyr's carriage to steal it.
That was why she was waiting in the powder room instead of the carriage.
Since the powder room was a space exclusively for women, if he dared to intrude, the auction organizers would chase him out more decisively than anyone else.
'The only thing I lack compared to Raymond is physical strength. That amount of help is enough.'
However, there was one thing she had overlooked.
Since she had no need to fix her makeup or her dress, she had absolutely nothing to do in the powder room.
While she was lying blankly on the sofa, counting the patterns on the ceiling...
Creak—
The door to the powder room opened, revealing the hem of a luxurious dress.
"Hello, Princess Martyr."
"...And who are you?"
At first, she was on high alert, wondering if Raymond had actually stormed in here as well.
The problem was that even after realizing the person who entered was not Raymond, her guard did not drop.
'A dress from the Hyra Atelier, the most famous in the capital. The premium line they declared they would only make five of. Seeing how the hat, gloves, and shoes are all matched to the dress, she is not from an ordinary family.'
Yet, the woman was a face she had truly never seen before in her life.
This meant the woman either could not attend the same banquets as her, or even if she did, she was of a status that did not dare show her face before her.
Stella was 'exceptional,' so that was one thing, but a typical Baron's daughter would be too afraid to step forward before her.
'Is she a Baron's daughter after all? Or perhaps a Viscount's?'
As Yevgenia narrowed her eyes to gauge the woman's status, her eyebrows suddenly twitched.
She recognized the emblem on the brooch attached to the woman's sleeve.
"The Imperial Times..."
"Oh, you know our newspaper? It is the honor of our house, Princess."
"As a noble of the Empire, how could I not? It was the first time I'd ever seen a newspaper that pointed out the flaws of aristocratic society so sharply."
She didn't say this simply because they published scandals about nobles.
From its first publication, the Imperial Times had caused a great stir with commentaries and articles that openly pointed out wrongs, regardless of whether they were nobles, merchants, or commoners.
Stories regarding the misdeeds of 'Yevgenia' had also been featured quite often.
Rather than the acts she committed, the articles were filled with criticism that the reason for such actions was mere jealousy.
'My father seemed to quite like those articles. I used to think he didn't care because he found me distasteful, but thinking back, he might have hoped I would come to my senses after reading them.'
The Imperial Times gained even greater popularity from the fact that they survived unscathed after touching the 'Princess Martyr,' who was like a star high in the sky.
While her head told her they were not wrong, emotions were different.
'I'm human too; wouldn't it be unpleasant to be constantly beaten down, even by valid criticism?'
In that regard, the representative of the Imperial Times—likely the president's daughter—who brazenly showed her face before her must have possessed an incredibly bold heart.
Despite Yevgenia's sarcasm, the woman merely bowed her waist with a faint smile.
"I shall take that as an honor to my house as well. After all, a journalist must not kneel before rank or money."
"Ah. I know that better than anyone. So, do you want to put an interview with me in your paper this time? I'm willing to write one if it's for the obituaries."
The woman had called her 'Yevgenia' as soon as she entered.
This meant she hadn't come to the powder room by chance, but had intentionally come to meet her.
To uncover the dark intentions, Yevgenia deliberately chose words that would put the woman under pressure.
How would this opponent, whose boldness seemed to be overflowing, react?
Yevgenia continued to watch her while lying languidly on the sofa.
It was a gesture implying the woman wasn't worth the effort of sitting up, yet the woman acted as if her pride wasn't wounded in the slightest.
"It would be a generational honor for us if you would only grant an interview. I would cut out the interview column, put it in a frame, and pass it down as a family heirloom."
"...You refuse to lose a single word."
"Having lived a somewhat rough life, I find that threats lacking true murderous intent do not instill fear."
From the woman, who kept smiling with her eyes narrowed, Yevgenia could feel an aura suggesting she had indeed lived a difficult life.
As the woman said, Yevgenia had no intention of punishing her for past events—even those that were 100% 'Yevgenia's' fault.
Letting out a small sigh, Yevgenia changed the subject first.
"Fine, I shall overlook your rudeness thus far in praise of your courage. In exchange, you must clearly explain the reason you have come to find me."
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