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She had been polite before, but now it went beyond mere politeness; it almost looked as if she were worshiping Yevgenia.
Yevgenia, feeling unsettled by the excessive courtesy, frowned slightly. While still keeping her head bowed, the woman spoke cautiously.
“It is an honor to meet you for the first time, Imperial Princess Martyr. I am Matilda Benson, the eldest daughter of House Benson, a mere newsmonger.”
Before Yevgenia could respond, Matilda moved first.
“I sincerely apologize for the audacity of someone from a mere Viscount's house stepping forward without first greeting the Imperial Princess. It is an infinite honor to be able to offer my greetings like this.”
She bowed so deeply that her hat slipped and fell to the floor with a thud.
At first, Yevgenia wondered if Matilda was playing a prank on her, but seeing Matilda's politely clasped hands trembling, she realized the woman was sincere.
Only then did Yevgenia realize that spending time with Yulan had twisted her own social skills in a rather strange direction.
‘I guess it's because lately, my only conversations have been trading jokes and sarcasm with Yulan. Normally, I should have been the one to point this out first.’
Fortunately, thanks to the words she had already thrown out, Yevgenia could navigate this situation in a manner befitting an ‘Imperial Princess.’
“Lady Benson, I'm afraid I cannot accept that apology.”
“…….”
“I previously stated that I would forget and overlook all the rudeness you have committed. If I were to accept this apology, would that not mean I am overturning my own declaration?”
In truth, the ‘rudeness’ Yevgenia had mentioned referred to the columns published in the Imperial Times criticizing her private life, but it wouldn't be a problem to bundle in any other rudeness she had forgotten.
The immediate priority was why Matilda had sought her out.
‘Well, it's not like I have absolutely no idea.’
Last week—or more accurately, eight days ago.
There had been a commotion in front of the House of Martyr's main gate, whether it was a lovers' quarrel or a scandal.
Even a cursory glance revealed that there were several people who looked like reporters, yet not a single line of news had appeared even after all this time.
It was obvious that once someone broke the seal, the stories would pour out in a flood, but...
‘The problem is that there wasn't anyone gutsy enough to break that seal.’
Considering the reporters who had been frantically taking notes, the sane superiors at each newspaper company had likely suppressed the stories.
Since even the Daily Letter—the face and mascot of yellow journalism—had kept its mouth shut, the more sluggish general newspapers wouldn't have dared to step forward.
‘Still, I thought a reporter personally recruited by Yulan might have been capable of publishing it... I remember reading an article they wrote praising the Emperor's grace; it was written like a novel and quite entertaining. What a shame.’
With that reporter's skill, they could have packaged the love between the Imperial Princess Martyr and the commoner ‘Yuri’ in a very poignant and beautiful way.
However, the reality was that the reporter—or more accurately, the newspaper they belonged to—had been silenced.
In such a situation, the fact that the Imperial Times of all places was reaching out was something Yevgenia could cheer for.
Yevgenia stared silently at Matilda, who still had her head bowed low, and slowly rose from her seat.
She picked up the hat rolling on the floor, brushed off the few specks of dust, and personally placed it back into Matilda's hands.
“You surely know how disadvantageous it is for someone to have disheveled attire during a business meeting, don't you?”
“……Of course, I know better than anyone.”
Matilda smiled softly as she carefully placed the hat, received with both hands, back on her head.
Despite her gentle impression and the added smile, it was impossible to take Matilda lightly.
Rather, the moment she smiled, her atmosphere became even more refined, making her feel even more daunting to deal with.
However, this was not a problem for Yevgenia, who had no intention of treating Matilda as a pushover from the start.
Returning naturally to her seat and crossing her legs, Yevgenia tapped the armrest of the sofa with her index finger and asked.
“So, Lady Benson. How far have you thought this through?”
“Haha. You are quite direct, Imperial Princess.”
“It's because I don't have much time. The moment my maid returns, our business ends there. Understood?”
At Yevgenia's firm declaration, Matilda obediently nodded.
Without further word, Matilda pulled a thick, golden object from her bosom and held it out.
“Is this... a mouse and a bird?”
“Yes. It is my family's crest.”
At the unexpected answer, one corner of Yevgenia's mouth twisted sharply.
“Oh, I never imagined I'd be receiving charity from a Viscount's daughter.”
It was a single sentence laced with sarcasm, containing a cold warning to ‘explain yourself immediately.’
However, Matilda remained completely unfazed. Placing one hand over her heart and bowing her head slightly, she spoke.
“A typical family crest plaque is used for such purposes. However, the Benson family crest plaque is used for an entirely different purpose.”
“For example?”
“Perhaps the Imperial Princess wishes to further promote a boutique she likes, or raise the reputation of a favored designer, or perhaps...”
“...Or, perhaps you wish to elevate the reputation of a beloved lover?”
Matilda's smile deepened.
In other words, Matilda was currently encouraging Yevgenia to use the press for political maneuvering.
What Matilda wanted to place on the other side of the scale was likely the love story between Yevgenia and ‘Yuri.’
The reason she was throwing a huge move like the family crest plaque to gain permission for an article was clear.
“It seems my father frightened you quite a bit.”
“His Grace, Duke Martir, has always shown respect to journalists.”
“Respect is respect. He ensures we don't waste energy on useless talk. It's just that what constitutes ‘useless talk’ is determined entirely by my father's standards.”
Matilda couldn't bring herself to say the words ‘that is true’ aloud, but she signaled her agreement with a faint smile.
After thinking for a moment, Yevgenia asked tentatively.
“Is it possible to run an article related to an object, rather than a person?”
“Whatever the holder of the family crest plaque desires.”
Satisfied with the answer, Yevgenia grinned.
In this world, running an advertisement for a single item would certainly be seen as breaking common sense.
Because of that, when it actually happened, the attention poured onto that first ‘single item’ would be enormous.
Furthermore, if that advertisement were to appear in the Imperial Times—the bastion of truth and trust—the credibility of the product would be established long before sales even began.
Moreover, imagine capturing a high-ranking official of the Imperial Times as the first customer.
Thinking of a column that would be published as an advertisement without being one, she could already hear the clinking sound of coins falling into her vault.
‘A plan to handle both advertising and stealth marketing at once; I'm a genius. And the price is simply allowing me to publish the article I want!’
While this was an opportunity created by the Duke by blocking the newspapers, the subsequent deal with Matilda was entirely Yevgenia's idea.
With a capitalistic smile plastered across her face, Yevgenia reached out her hand.
However, Matilda did not move from her spot.
‘As I thought...’
Click, clack.
Approaching Matilda with very slow steps, Yevgenia stopped about one step away and stared intently at her.
Between the narrowed eyes that she had thought were merely smiling, the brown pupils revealed themselves, reflecting light without any focus.
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