Chapter 1789: The Situation

As the lyrical classical piano piece slowly drew to a close, the people on the dance floor took a brief pause.

Sabrina also seemed to have received a warning bell; she hurriedly wiped the crumbs from her lips, stood up in a rush, and lifted the hem of her skirt to perform a lady's curtsy to Bonaparte: "Apologies, Mr. Bonaparte, chatting with you was very pleasant, but I must go. If my father sees me constantly sneaking food, I will be lectured."

She hurriedly trailed her skirt, like a graceful mermaid swimming back into the noble sea where she belonged, leaving only a lovely fragrance in the air.

... Or perhaps it might not be that lovely; in any case, it was beautified by Bonaparte's filter.

Bonaparte's raised hand had not yet been lowered, and he was somewhat dazed, when immediately behind him, an exceptionally harsh voice popped out:

"Oh, listen to the silly things you just said—the sea, the grotto, my silly boy. You truly have not a shred of talent for coaxing women. You really should be made to roll less in piles of books and come out more to see the world."

Without turning his head, Bonaparte knew who was hooking an arm around his neck in jest. He continued to cut his pan-seared steak with composure, even though the steak had already been sliced into tiny shreds by him. Exit the transcoding page, please download the app to read the latest chapters.

"Alright, Kaine, I am not here to pick up girls."

"What do you mean by picking up girls? That is the youngest daughter of the Vesta family. If you could be with her, you would never have to worry about food or clothing for the rest of your life."

The handsome young man with chestnut hair sat in the seat Sabrina had just vacated, holding the stem of his glass and shaking it gently, a frivolous smile on the corners of his mouth—the very picture of a dissolute second-generation heir.

Unfortunately, he was also a down-and-out second-generation heir who barely managed to hang out with Bonaparte. He had even dragged Bonaparte to this banquet to bolster his own courage, yet Kaine was surprisingly like a fish in water in such settings, and he didn't need Bonaparte's help to bolster his courage at all.

"You know her?" Bonaparte ate a piece of steak, chewing slowly.

His gaze still couldn't help but peek toward the girl's slender and beautiful back; he saw Sabrina greeting everyone in the crowd in a proper manner, her expression extremely practiced and elegant, a far cry from how she appeared here.

And a middle-aged Noble man in a floral-collared tight-fitting suit and white-gold curly hair stood beside her, smiling quite rigidly. The not-so-sincere smile lingered on his lips, fitting the current atmosphere, while Sabrina stayed beside him, acting like a little bird dependent on a person.

Guest.

So she really was just here to slack off; it was quite tiring, though.

"Nonsense, I told you I know everything. Besides, she is no nobody. If you latch onto her, you can save yourself all the detours in your military career after graduation."

Kaine squinted, sizing up the commotion not far away, his long, narrow eyes like a fox examining a mouse hole.

Bonaparte was slightly speechless; when would this riddle-monger ever speak normally?

"What exactly is her status?"

"Those who know, know; those who don't, wouldn't understand even if I told you. Alright, alright, don't look at me like that. General Vesta is her grandfather, the leader of the eastern front, who is having a heated exchange with the warships of Britain on the sea, if you want to be an Admiral in the future."

Kaine took a Silver Coin from his pocket and played with it, flipping it between his fingers. "I suggest you go strike up a conversation with a dance partner, or at the very least expand your social circle, instead of moping here eating fruit. Otherwise, you've truly come for nothing."

Bonaparte rolled his eyes at him. "Then why do you think I came here?"

"For your dear brother, Monsieur Bonaparte. I am doing this for your own good. Your art of language is truly unbearable to me. You should be discussing history and art with that delicate swan from just now—Corneille's *The Cid*, Racine's *Andromache*; if that fails, you could even talk about Haydn, Mozart, or the roses in her back garden."

Kaine spoke eloquently, clearly well-versed and experienced in the topic of how to chat with noble ladies.

Bonaparte frowned slightly. "Classicism is rigid and stale; this era needs more critical art. Besides, she quite likes listening to me talk about the sea."

"Oh please, my brother... you are truly beyond saving." Kaine slapped his own forehead. "Do you think the magnificent sea colors of Kojiaxi Island will make her willing to dance with you in the center of the crowd?"

Bonaparte did not speak, only picked up his wine glass and shook it gently.

Through the translucent wine, the light refracted and projected the bustling ballroom behind him into the oval glass, as if all the prosperity had been packed into the cup. This made Bonaparte recall the time in Ajaccio, which had been just as lively, though that was with the anti-French liberation organization.

And now, looking at the current scene, he only

smelled a rot he found unbearable, yet he had to accept the fact that he was of French nationality. It was quite a contradictory experience. Perhaps he would never be able to forgive his father in this life, but he could not deny that it was precisely because of his father's clear understanding of the situation that Bonaparte himself was able to attend Brienne for his studies on public funds.

Kaine shook his head helplessly, leaned over, and whispered into Bonaparte's ear:

"Suit yourself then. Do you see that sexy girl in the black dress?"

"Who?"

"Kamila, the nightingale of the Liszt family, Sabrina's best friend. Her singing voice can make sirens submit and can also awaken the sleeping Endymion."

"Huh?"

"You simply lack a sense of humor. You really should let a famous internal medicine doctor from Austria check your brain; hope the Panacea can cure your emotional intelligence."

Kaine patted Bonaparte's shoulder in dissatisfaction.

"What does Austria have to do with this? No, I mean, what about your dance partner from just now?" Bonaparte could not keep up with this playboy's train of thought.

"You mean Patrice? That was just social etiquette. To be blunt, she is not my type. Oh, you might not understand; you can't even find a dance partner." Kaine glanced at the girl who had just been spinning on the dance floor with him; she was already conversing with another tall man and was being amused to the point of laughter from time to time. Read the full content on the Aiyue app.

"Stop mocking me."

"Watch closely how I go about winning the favor of that Miss Kamila and embracing her on the next dance floor. Perhaps tonight will be even more wonderful. Learn from me, my friend; I don't want you to go back lonely in the middle of the night. I would laugh at you for the rest of my life. You are grown up; you are not a child going home to eat a midnight snack."

Kaine was full of confidence; he straightened his collar, brushed off non-existent dust from his cufflinks, and walked slowly away.

Bonaparte then watched him head toward the center of the crowd. Kaine seemed to want to demonstrate to him how to socialize at a noble banquet, even though such socializing was completely different from what Bonaparte had imagined.

He saw Kaine part the crowd and walk to the side of his target, Miss Kamila. He first listened for a while to the conversations the surrounding men were having with her, which centered on that Queen Marie who loved luxury and enjoyment, the Deficit Lady who spent the national treasury on clothing, jewelry, villas, and balls.