Chapter 120: Jealousy From Many Parties

Nolan and Seira were startled and instinctively turned around.

There stood Elina, walking toward them with a sullen expression. Without saying a word, she grabbed Nolan’s arm and clung tightly to his left side.

"Sister Seira, you’re too greedy. It’s my turn to dance with Brother Nolan now," she said with a cold snort.

Seira looked displeased, but she knew that arguing would only backfire.

After all, she had just danced with Leon. If she pushed too hard, Nolan might start to get annoyed with her.

She took a deep breath, then nodded reluctantly. "Fine, I give in."

Elina smiled in satisfaction, then turned to Nolan. "Brother, let’s dance."

Nolan: "..."

No. I just want to relax in the corner. Why is Elina pestering me like Seira did?

There are plenty of young nobles waiting to dance with you, little sister. Why me?

He wanted to refuse, but the moment he met Elina’s sharp gaze, the words caught in his throat.

"Haa..." He let out a long sigh. "Alright, I get it. Let’s dance."

"Yay!" Elina cheered.

But suddenly, Seira cut in. "After this, you have to dance with me again, Nolan. Got it?"

Nolan frowned, just about to speak—when a loud protest erupted beside them.

"That’s not fair, Princess Seira! You already had your turn with His Highness Nolan. After Princess Elina, it’s our turn!"

"That’s right! You can’t cheat, Princess Seira!"

"Yeah! Abusing your status as a sibling is unfair!"

The three of them fell silent and turned to the side—only to be stunned.

Somehow, a crowd of young ladies from various noble families had gathered, their faces filled with dissatisfaction.

And their number? No joke—there were twenty of them!

It wasn’t just the three who were surprised. Everyone in the hall was stunned.

"Crazy! Since when did Prince Nolan become this popular?" One of the young nobles exclaimed, rubbing his eyes in disbelief.

"This is totally unfair!" Another shouted, his teeth clenched with envy.

"Damn it! Is Prince Nolan trying to steal all the women at this party? This is already immoral!"

The eyes of the young noblemen burned with envy and irritation as they watched the scene unfold.

For them, getting just one dance partner was already a challenge. The young noble ladies had high standards—from looks to social standing.

A Baron’s son asking a young lady from a Viscount family or higher? Forget it—unless he was ready to be humiliated.

The only real way to succeed was by having a higher status than the woman. But even that wasn’t always enough.

The second requirement was just as unforgiving: appearance.

So when they saw Nolan surrounded by young women, it felt like a heavy weight pressing down on their chests—crushing and suffocating.

How did this happen?

Adalen muttered, gritting his teeth as he clenched his left fist.

Ever since Nolan had revealed his real face in public, his popularity had plummeted.

Where he was once swarmed by noble young ladies, now they barely acknowledged him—as if he didn’t even exist.

Naturally, he felt envious and resentful. That popularity didn’t come out of nowhere—he had spent years building it, and it was crucial for this moment: the succession to the throne.

"That rude man... is surprisingly popular with women."

From afar, Rafine narrowed her eyes, a cold glint flashing in them.

"Pfft! Are you jealous, my dear?"

A teasing voice came from the side. Startled, Rafine turned her head to find her mother—Anastasia—standing there.

"Mother..." Rafine pursed her lips in displeasure. She crossed her arms and snorted, "Why would I be jealous? It’s not like I have feelings for him."

"Heh..." Anastasia smiled lazily as she sipped her red wine. "But... I could’ve sworn I saw you looking quite excited while dancing with Prince Nolan. Or..."

She glanced sideways at her daughter and added, "Was that just my imagination?"

Rafine’s expression froze. A moment later, her face turned red as she quickly looked away.

"It must’ve been your imagination," she replied, trying to sound calm.

Anastasia chuckled at her daughter’s reaction. It had been a long time since she’d seen Rafine this flustered—a rare moment she thoroughly enjoyed.

"But, my dear," she said, her tone softening, "if you like Prince Nolan—or even if you’re just curious about him—it’s better to say it now. Otherwise..."

Her gaze shifted toward Nolan, who was still surrounded by young women.

"...you might regret it once another woman takes him."

Rafine didn’t say a word, but her expression revealed a mix of emotions—complex and hard to explain.

"Tsk! Prince Nolan... He’s changed my impression of him again," Rudy said with a burst of laughter.

It wasn’t just Rafine—Nolan had managed to charm the young ladies from other noble families as well.

Truly extraordinary.

"You’re right, Father-in-law. I wish I’d had that kind of charm back in my day," Orlan chimed with a small sigh.

"Oh? So what you’re saying is... you want to be surrounded by beautiful women like that, my love?"

A cold voice suddenly rang out from behind him, sending a chill down Orlan’s spine.

He turned his head stiffly—and there stood Syra, her smile sweet, but her aura dangerously cold.

"My dear, you’ve misunderstood! I—" Orlan stammered, panicked. But Syra just stared at him in silence, her sharp gaze piercing deep, as if reading his mind.

Realizing that his wife wouldn’t be easily convinced, Orlan quickly turned to Rudy, hoping for help.

But Rudy simply gave a light cough and walked away.

"That’s your problem. I’m not getting involved."

Orlan: "..."

Meanwhile, Nolan, who was being overwhelmed by the enthusiasm of the young ladies, took a deep breath and tried to regain control of the situation.

"Alright, girls, I get it. Let’s take turns, okay? Just write down the names of three people who’ll dance after Elina."

At his words, the young women’s eyes lit up with excitement.

"It’s definitely me!"

"Keep dreaming—it’s me!"

"Nonsense! Of course it’s me!"

Another commotion broke out, but fortunately, Roswell stepped in just in time to restore order.

In the end, the young ladies agreed to continue their discussion elsewhere to decide who would take the next three dance turns.

Shortly after, the fourth dance session began—and once again, Nolan was flawless. He danced even more brilliantly than he had with Rafine and Seira.

The guests were mesmerized once more by his grace and skill.

But when the session ended, Nolan didn’t return to the corner of the hall. Instead, he stood quietly, waiting for his next partner.

After all, he had made a promise—and like it or not, he had to keep it.

He kept telling himself it was for Elina... Yes, for her. But deep down—was that really the reason?

Before anyone realized, time had flown by. With the dance sessions concluded, the party was drawing to a close.

Ragan stepped to the center of the hall and addressed the guests.

"Thank you all for attending my birthday celebration. I truly appreciate your presence and wish you all the best."

"You’re most welcome, Your Majesty," the guests replied in unison, bowing their heads respectfully.

Ragan nodded in satisfaction. "Very well, then. Let us bring this evening to—"

Before he could finish, the cold voice of the Singularity of Light rang out sharply across the room.

"Your Majesty the Emperor, I demand justice."