"I mean– really– we're not being condescending but pragmatic," Lady Consolacion happily jeered after a

long exhausting series of bickering and snickering regarding a controversial subject. Then, the other
women, who are clearly fascinated, elegantly poised, and dressed in funky attires, cheekily shared the
most annoying laugh one can ever perceive.
"After all, the approach is unorthodox," Baroness Windsor further added.
After hearing the constant thwarting of subtle insults and mockery, I secretly scoffed. Being in such a
society could be exhausting. All are expected to have this so-called common etiquette– to ironically smile
at backhanded remarks; to even kiss the butts of any disgusting entities; and to conform to the
pretentiousness and hypocrisy of the circle.
I prepped myself and decided to show my facade in front of the ladies, grabbing the silhouette to the
nearest hemline my hand could lock. In this posture, I placed both my feet and knees pointed out, my
torso lowered straight down, and I lowered myself evenly– a proper curtsy. After such formality, I then
greeted, "Laughing without me? Now tell me this ludicrosity that made you all laugh."
"Duchess von Teschen, we were just talking about the–" the baroness paused while thinking of a proper
excuse. "Lady Consolacion's suitor."
"A certain suitor, you say?" I asked, grimacing Lady Consolacion. "Is this suitor of yours– well– an
ordinary man who toils day and night in an abattoir from a certain duchy in the countryside? Someone
who's in his late 30's? Such horrendously inappropriate age gap between the wooer is deemed quite
unsavory from the eyes of the many– or is it really just a suitor?" I asked a leading question, mocking the
affairs of Consolacion.
Everyone was silent, completely unaware of the sweltering tea that was served before their ears, except
for the beloved, shivering Lady Consolacion. This would certainly keep her blabbering mouth shut for a
while.
After the unsolicited commotion, the pep talk amongst the nobilities went well, thankfully. As for the
main, sole, and genuine agendum of this party, well, it can wait; after all, the country’s dearest ‘leaderest’
isn’t concurrently here.

Each later bid their farewells as the party was peacefully wrapped.
I hovered my sight around the shelves; the files aren't there. "Theresa, the documents– the heap of paper
placed on the escritoire– hand those over to me."