Reborn as a Hated Noble Family, We Start an Industrial Revolution

​The main hall of Countess Mira Frost’s estate had officially transformed into a blinding sea of crystals tonight.

​Dozens of colossal chandeliers, carved purely from raw mana crystals, hung suspended from the vaulted ceiling. Their sapphire-blue radiance danced, reflecting off the pristine white marble tiles below.

​The obsidian stone walls of the chamber were adorned with intricate carvings of permafrost that would never melt, refracting the light from silver vases filled with snow-flowers lined neatly in every corner.

​A sea of humanity crowded the floor, flaunting their finest silk gowns and tailored tuxedos.

​Crystal merchant cartels puffed out their chests in jewel-encrusted velvet robes. High-ranking military brass walked stiffly, parading the clinking war medals pinned to their chests. Meanwhile, noblewomen whispered busily behind their folding fans, scanning and judging one another with vicious, tightly-concealed glares.

​And right in the absolute center of that vortex of social pageantry... Princess Rumina Sudrath stood like a statue, wearing the expression of someone counting down the minutes until she could escape this hell.

​The woman had barely managed to slip away from Countess Mira’s welcoming pleasantries when a middle-aged man approached her. His hair was graying at the temples, but his posture retained a rigid, aristocratic pride.

​”Princess Rumina. An absolute honor tonight. I am Eden Frost.”

​Rumina stared at the man with a face as flat as a brick wall. ”Oh. The Countess’s late husband’s brother.”

​Eden gave a polite nod. ”That is correct. I came over simply to convey my respects in person. The extended Frost family has long admired your meticulousness in managing the kingdom’s financial gears.”

​”Thank you.” Two words. Blunt and short.

​Eden bowed slightly and immediately spun on his heels to leave. The older man had enough experience in high society to know exactly when to retreat, unwilling to waste his breath on a woman who clearly wished to be left alone.

​Unfortunately, Rumina’s relief didn’t even last a full minute.

​A burly young man barged forward to approach her. His military coat was a garish dark blue, pinned with cheap silver emblems. His steps were overly confident. His smile was far too wide and painfully forced, radiating a pungent stench of musk perfume.

​”The enchanting Princess Rumina. I am Bram Monarcha. Viscount of Isafjord,” he greeted with feigned familiarity, leaning in closer. ”Perhaps after this... the two of us could get to know each other a bit bet—”

​”No.”

​Bram froze stiff. His jaw dropped. ”Eh? E-Excuse me?”

​”I have absolutely zero interest in you,” Rumina stated coldly. The woman didn’t even bother to look the Viscount in the face, busying herself instead with observing the rows of glasses on the beverage table across the room. ”And you happen to be blocking my way. Excuse me.”

​Swoosh. Rumina sidestepped and walked away before Bram could string together a single word in response. The man was left standing paralyzed in the middle of the crowd, swallowing his humiliation, his pride utterly pulverized by a rejection that clocked in at under five seconds.

​Far at the end of the hall, at the table of honor, Lucian Sudrath sat back casually, swirling a glass of red wine in his hand.

​Countess Mira sat elegantly beside the King, occasionally leaning in to whisper brief profiles of the passing guests. Lucian responded with formal nods, yet his sharp gray eyes never once strayed from monitoring the movements of his second daughter across the room.

​”Your Majesty King Lucian. Countess Mira.”

​A heavy baritone voice interrupted from the direction of the main doors. Duke Eddard of the Torshavn territory stepped inside. His gray cloak was remarkably simple, devoid of any excessive gold trimmings or medals—a stark, grounded contrast to the tacky opulence of the other guests.

​Countess Mira immediately rose and bowed her head. ”Duke Eddard. The city of Frostmere is deeply honored by your presence tonight.”

​Eddard returned the bow, then looked straight at Lucian. ”Your Majesty. Please forgive my tardiness. There was some minor pest friction at the southern border that required my immediate attention.”

​Lucian raised his wine glass slightly into the air, signaling his understanding and gesturing for the Duke to sit. ”You always arrive at exactly the right time, Eddard. How are the people of Torshavn faring?”

​”Safe and at peace, Your Majesty,” Eddard pulled out a wooden chair beside Lucian and took a seat. ”The breached defensive walls have been fully repaired. Our people can sleep soundly once more.”

​Countess Mira smiled warmly. ”Torshavn is our brother. Frostmere will never turn a blind eye to the fact that your forces were the very first shield to withstand the onslaught.”

​”And Frostmere was the very first carriage to deliver aid,” Eddard replied, raising his glass toward Mira. ”We at the border will never forget that merit, Countess.”

​Lucian took a slow sip of his wine. He let the two regional lords reminisce over the bitter ashes of war. The King’s eyes stealthily drifted back to the other side of the hall.

​Over there, a scrawny young man with thick glasses was currently being blockaded by Rumina. The young man’s hands were shaking so violently as he held his crystal glass that the liquid inside nearly spilled over. Clink... clink...

​”P-P-Princess Rumina... I-I am Rafiq Fearcrua. I was just appointed as a B-Baron at the eastern border last month. I t-truly admire your methods in—”

​”I am not interested.”

​”B-B-But Princess, I-I haven’t even finished speak—”

​”You are finished now.” Rumina stared the poor boy down. ”Congratulations on your promotion, Baron. May your career be successful. Now, excuse me.”

​Gulp. Rafiq swallowed hard. His face flushed a deep, panicked red. The young man hurriedly bowed at a perfect ninety-degree angle and retreated with wobbly steps, nearly colliding with a waiter carrying a tray of champagne.

​Lucian, who had been overseeing the entire mental slaughter from afar, could only suppress a heavy sigh.

​The King’s gaze remained incredibly calm, but a tiny vein twitched at his temple. He set his wine glass down on the table with an agonizingly slow motion. Then, he looked straight at Rumina—at the exact second his daughter accidentally glanced up and met his gaze.

​Eye contact locked.

​The King raised a single eyebrow slowly. Just one microscopic twitch. Then, he gave a tiny nod of his chin, gesturing toward the center of the dance floor.

​Rumina instantly froze solid.

​She recognized her father’s body language flawlessly—the exact same secret code Lucian had used on her and her siblings since they were toddlers.

​One raised eyebrow meant: ”You heard my order.”

​One chin nod meant: ”Do it right this second.”

​Haaaaah. Rumina exhaled heavily through her mouth. She closed her eyes, cursing her miserable fate. Resigned.

​The moment she opened her eyes, a strange young man just happened to stroll casually past her. The man’s light brown hair was left slightly messy. His tuxedo was neat, but the cut wasn’t flashy or ostentatious. A large glass of red wine rested comfortably in his hand.

​The young man was walking with extraordinary relaxation. Nodding his head slightly, enjoying the music without a care in the world.

​Snatch! Rumina grabbed the sleeve of the man’s tuxedo without a hint of permission.

​The young man’s footsteps halted abruptly. He turned his head. A pair of green eyes blinked in confusion at the woman who had just hijacked him.

​”Sorry,” Rumina spoke rapidly, her tone as stiff as plywood. ”I... I want to dance. Right now. With you.”

​The green-eyed man stood motionless, staring at Rumina for two full seconds. Then... the corners of his lips slowly curled upward, carving an incredibly soothing, relaxed smile.

​”Of course, Princess. But I have one condition.”

​Rumina’s brow instantly furrowed in suspicion. ”What condition?”

​”You don’t need to start your sentences with the word ’sorry’.”

​The man placed his wine glass onto the tray of a passing waiter, then politely extended his hand. ”I am Breeze. Breeze Uiscefuar. Just an ordinary aquaculture businessman from Isafjord. Not an important noble. So... you can just relax around me.”

​Rumina stared at his offered hand for a moment. Hesitant. But the piercing gaze of her father from across the room forced her to surrender. She placed her hand onto Breeze’s palm. ”Rumina Sudrath.”

​”Yeah, I know perfectly well.” Breeze smiled warmly. ”Every corner of this kingdom knows.”

​The two of them walked side-by-side onto the dance floor just as the classic strings of a waltz began to play. The gentle friction of violin strings harmonized with the tap of piano keys, creating the foundational tempo. One-two-three... one-two-three.

​Instantly, Rumina’s entire body went as rigid as a plank of teakwood.

​Her footwork was completely tone-deaf, moving horribly out of sync with the music’s tempo. Both her hands gripped Breeze’s shoulders far too tightly.

​”Ugh... sorry. I am truly terrible at dancing,” Rumina murmured awkwardly.

​”Yeah, I can feel that.”

​”My feet... I just stepped on your leather shoes again, didn’t I?”

​”Only twice so far.” Breeze returned it with an effortless, unburdened smile.

​Rumina snapped her head up, glaring at him with a hint of annoyance. ”Are you mocking me?”

​”A little bit.” Breeze chuckled softly. The man then took the lead, guiding their steps with incredible calm. He deliberately slowed the rhythm of his rotations so Rumina’s stiff legs could keep up with the flow. ”It’s alright, Princess. Don’t count the steps. Just follow the melody. No one is paying attention to us here.”

​”That is a blatant public lie. Half this hall is staring directly at me right now!” Rumina cursed in a panic.

​”Well, in that case... let them,” Breeze replied lightly. ”You are the Royal Princess, after all. You have the special privilege to step on the toes of anyone you want in this room.”

​Rumina nearly choked on her own saliva. Cough! ”What kind of insane logic... that makes absolutely no—”

​”Just joking.” Breeze guided the woman’s hand in a very slow, incredibly patient spin. ”You don’t need to act like everything has to be flawless here, Princess.”

​For the very first time throughout that entire night of social torture... the corners of Rumina’s lips twitched upward.

​Very, very faintly. Nearly invisible to the naked eye. Yet, Breeze flawlessly caught that trace of a smile.

​The dance continued to spin. Rumina still moved rather stiffly. Every now and then, the heel of her shoe still managed to accidentally crush Breeze’s foot. But miraculously... the woman no longer bothered to mutter the word ’sorry’.