"You damned piece of trash!" Frel's face flushed crimson, his whole body trembling with rage.

Poznia hurried over to pull him back, preventing the scene from spiraling out of control.

His brother had matured after marriage, becoming far more composed than Frel.

"Brother Frel, everyone sees through your little schemes now. Stop leering at your younger brother's wife. Find someone to marry—oh, if any lady would still have you," Lanche added casually, determined to infuriate without mercy.

"Aaah! I challenge you to a duel! You worthless trash! A disgrace!" Frel roared.

Lanche grinned instantly. "You know I'm trash—"

He tried to crack a joke, but Kestia beside him moved first.

The girl merely raised her hand. The banquet hall's temperature plummeted. Frost crackled across wine glasses.

Frel froze solid into an ice sculpture in an instant.

Everyone stared at Kestia in stunned silence.

Her face was icy, silver-white hair flowing like snow. Her cold gaze swept the crowd—a princess of winter.

"She cast magic without chanting..." someone murmured in the hushed crowd.

No one could gauge the spell's rank, but respect now flickered in every eye fixed on Kestia.

Lanche blinked in surprise, then snorted coldly, chin lifted. "I may be trash, but my wife isn't to be trifled with. Don't think the Claire Family is easy prey."

Kestia nodded, a silent harmony between them.

Sileus watched from afar, smiling. Time to show the Claire Family's strength.

In this world, only raw power earned true respect.

Just then, Yufi and Gorde entered the hall. Both froze at the sight.

Gorde's expression darkened. He lunged forward in a flash.

Spotting his frozen son, he reached without hesitation for Kestia's hair—humiliating yet not vulgar.

Many gasped, hearts tightening.

Kestia didn't flinch. She gripped his wrist. Frost surged up his arm, freezing it solid.

Gorde froze. As Earl Belnos, a level-4 swordsman who led troops against barbarians, he was a kingdom elite.

Yet Kestia's icy stare rooted him in place.

He knew his arm could shatter any second.

Who was this Claire Family heiress?

The question echoed in every mind.

Yufi snapped first, rushing forward. "Misunderstanding! A total misunderstanding! Don't fight!"

Lanche tugged Kestia's sleeve secretly—things had gone too far.

Kestia released Gorde with cold indifference.

"Thaw Frel now! He'll die!" Poznia cried in panic.

Frel lay encased in ice, face locked in fury, unable to blink.

Minutes more, and he'd be dead.

Kestia said nothing. She raised her hand again. Flames melted the ice.

Frel collapsed in icy water, trembling—whether from cold or fear—and dared not glance at Kestia.

Gorde shook off the frost with his battle aura. His gaze at Kestia turned grimly silent.

He couldn't place her rank. Was she even a mage?

Casting combat magic without chants, matching his sword-speed...

Even armed, he doubted he could win.

Everyone realized they'd underestimated the Claire Family—and its heiress.

Silence hung heavy. Yufi broke it, smiling at Kestia. "I'm so glad you joined us, Miss Christia."

She acted as if nothing had happened.

"Only proper," Kestia replied calmly.

"And this gentleman..." Yufi turned to Lanche.

Lanche met her eyes—the one who'd shattered Kestia's confidence days ago.

"Little Yufi! Long time no see," he grinned.

Gasps rippled through the crowd, even from Kestia.

Daring to address a king candidate like that?

Yufi forced a tight smile. "Lanche. Still as mouthy as childhood. I'm sure this farce is your doing."

Lanche sighed dramatically. "How can you say that? You fought to play with me back then. I'm gentle and kind—trouble? Never."

"Shut up!" Yufi glared, flushed with shame.

She hated recalling that childish infatuation.

Lanche had charmed girls with pretty words and looks. She'd been smitten.

But growing up, she grasped "trash" meant. Their futures were worlds apart. She'd long dismissed him.

If not for today, she'd have buried him with her childhood.

Lanche spread his hands innocently, glancing at Gorde. "You handle this mess."

*You don't need to say it; I know.*

Yufi felt only disgust. He'd barged into her memories again, shamelessly.

"Help him rest first," she told Poznia.

Poznia nodded frantically, dragging Frel away without glancing at his father.

He already dreaded the punishment awaiting him.

"Are you unharmed, my lord?" Yufi asked Gorde.

"Fine," Gorde replied flatly, clinging to dignity.

"Good. Just a quarrel. Let's not deepen misunderstandings," Yufi smiled.

"This banquet aims to mend ties between Earl Belnos and Viscount Clarein. May we cooperate amicably going forward."

"My lords, any objections?" She looked at Gorde and Sileus.

Sileus stood beside Kestia, smiling. "None. Resolving this with Earl Belnos is my deepest wish."

Gorde nodded stiffly, silent.

"Then shake hands. Remain friends and partners," Yufi declared.

Under watchful eyes, Sileus extended his hand. Gorde gripped it briefly.

Thanks to Kestia and Lanche's display, Sileus had gained ample face.

Perhaps now, the Claire Family would finally enter the kingdom's upper echelons.