You’ll Regret Stealing Him from Me — My Sister Who Took My Fiancé and Celebrated Was a Fool - Chapter 22

“So, you’re Liebenfeld’s fiancée?”

A deep male voice suddenly came from behind me.

There was an undeniable forcefulness in his tone. Not quite commanding, but carrying an intimidating presence that naturally straightened my posture.

When I turned around, a sharp-eyed man stood there.

Just being under his gaze made me feel pressure. I was being sized up. Tested. That was the sensation.

“Hey, cut it out, Damian. And stop staring, you’re scaring her.”

Lord Maximilian immediately stepped in front of me, shielding me as he positioned himself between the man and me. The pressure I felt eased slightly at his protective stance.

“Didn’t mean to scare her.”

The man called Damian relaxed his expression slightly, but his eyes remained just as sharp.

“But… hmm. I see.”

He looked between me and Lord Maximilian, then nodded as if something had clicked.

“I’ve heard the rumors. The socialite prodigy, was it? Truth be told, I’ve been dragged to a few of the parties you’ve hosted.”

Lord Damian’s mouth twisted slightly, a sardonic smile.

“Though compared to those, our rough gatherings must seem lacking.”

His tone was testing, almost provoking. He was watching to see how I’d react. I met his gaze directly and answered.

“Not at all. If anything, I’m the one learning from you.”

At that, Lord Damian’s eyebrows rose slightly.

“Learning?”

“Yes. I feel there are values here that I wasn’t aware of. A different kind of wonderful culture compared to civil noble parties. A mindset that prioritizes substance over appearances. A stance that values trust over formalities. And above all, the importance placed on genuine bonds between comrades.”

His eyes softened just a fraction.

“Humble. I like that.”

With that, Lord Damian gave a small laugh.

“Let me introduce myself properly. Damian Crossfield. Third son of a baronial house, currently serving as a lieutenant colonel in the royal army. As for Liebenfeld here—”

He turned to Lord Maximilian, wearing a slightly embarrassed expression.

“We’ve known each other for ten years. Fought side by side on the battlefield. I’ve saved this idiot when he was about to die, and he’s done the same for me. We’re comrades who’ve entrusted our lives to each other.”

“And my closest friend.”

Lord Maximilian added in an unusually emotional voice. That alone made it clear how deep their bond was.

“I’m Seraphina. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

When I greeted him, Lord Damian nodded in satisfaction.

“Yeah, likewise.”

After that, Lord Maximilian and Lord Damian began chatting warmly.

Stories from the battlefield, comrades they’d fought alongside, recent training. Military topics flew back and forth.

It was obvious the two shared an incredibly close relationship. They were friends who trusted each other completely.

I listened to their conversation from the side, occasionally interjecting with questions.

“What kind of tactics did you use in that battle?”

“What do you prioritize most in training?”

They happily answered in detail, explaining lessons from real combat, training methods, and the importance of camaraderie. I listened intently to these topics favored by military men.

Everything they said was fascinating. Their life-and-death experiences. The desperate tactics they devised to protect their comrades. The days they endured grueling training. Lessons learned from failure. The joy of success. And their feelings for the comrades they’d lost. A world I knew nothing about.

Hearing these stories made me understand just how seriously military nobles approached their duties. They weren’t just fighters. They constantly learned, grew, and cherished their comrades. That way of living struck me as deeply sincere.

Later, I went to greet the host again.

“Thank you for inviting me today. This is a wonderful party.”

“Nah, it must seem plain compared to what you’re used to.”

“Not at all. The atmosphere is warm and welcoming. Everyone here is genuinely enjoying themselves. That’s what matters most, I think.”

The host looked slightly surprised at my words, then smiled happily.

“You’re a good one. Seems Liebenfeld found himself a fine fiancée.”

Hearing that made me happy too.

As I walked through the venue with Lord Maximilian, I spoke with various attendees.

I asked young officers about the hardships of training.

A veteran general shared battlefield experiences with me.

A logistics noble explained the importance of supply lines.

A military medic told me about treating wounded soldiers.

I also spoke with military noblewomen, learning various insights from them.

Everyone was kind enough to share their stories. The more I listened, the more I understood the depth of military noble culture.

Yet as I took in each conversation, something nagged at me.

This warmth, something I’d never experienced at civil noble parties.

But I didn’t want to deny the refined beauty absent from military noble gatherings either. That was important too.

Both were wonderful. Both had their own merits. So then—

Couldn’t the best of both be combined?

The refined aesthetics of civil nobles. The straightforward values of military nobles.

Maintaining visual elegance while pursuing genuine comfort. Creating a space that respected formal beauty while properly valuing substance. Sophisticated decor and warm interactions. Elegant cuisine and heartfelt conversation.

A new kind of party that fused both.

If possible, it could become a space where both civil and military nobles could enjoy themselves together. A place for mutual understanding and respect. A new form for high society.

That could be the “bridge” Lord Maximilian sought.

The idea swelled in my chest. A new possibility was taking shape.

This was it.

This was what I, now part of House Liebenfeld, needed to achieve through my parties.