Chapter 23
Chapter 23
Josée awoke with a start.
She must have dozed off during the afternoon carriage ride. A chilly breeze carried raindrops through the open window. She quietly reached out and shut it.
Right now, she was on her way to the Radical Party headquarters.
Serge was already waiting there. They had arranged a dinner with several influential figures to welcome her as a new party member. The thought of being officially recognized made Josée's heart flutter with nervous anticipation.
*(With both an entrepreneur and a representative on my side, I’ll make it into the palace’s inner circle someday.)*
She drew in a deep breath, as if wishing for a miracle. She would reunite the scattered Sarana people and lead them back to their homeland.
And once that dream was realized… she’d hold the king’s fate in her hands.
*(This is the first step. And it’s going to be a big one.)*
The Radical Party headquarters stood quietly on a rain-soaked hill at the edge of the capital, surrounded by lush greenery.
Dropped off in this remote, almost desolate location, Josée felt her nerves tighten.
It was a holiday, but the party’s leadership was likely inside. She’d been informed beforehand, yet that didn’t stop the unease creeping into her chest.
She knocked on the heavy front door, rain dripping from her sleeves. A moment later, it creaked open.
Serge appeared, his familiar face breaking into a welcoming smile.
"Welcome. I’m glad you came."
He stepped aside and swept the door open. The hem of Josée’s black dress brushed across the threshold, trailing droplets across the polished floor.
The air inside was thick with tobacco smoke—a closed, masculine space that reeked of politics and power.
She was led into the reception room. Amid the haze of smoke, she spotted a familiar figure.
Representative Clovis.
Her heart gave a small, startled jump.
He was the longest-serving elected official—one of the so-called political heavyweights. A self-made man from wealthy farming stock, he had no noble name, yet his “commoner’s touch” had earned him immense public trust. Now in his prime, with graying hair, sharp blue eyes, and a monocle perched over one eye, he cut a dignified figure.
Truth be told, Josée had long admired him from afar. His rise from humble beginnings resonated deeply with her, and she respected the way he pursued his ambitions without apology, no matter how rugged his demeanor.
Serge caught the gleam in her eyes and stepped forward to make introductions.
“Representative Clovis, this is Josée—the woman who recently cornered Representative Fédor.”
It seemed Serge had briefed him in advance. That alone made Josée’s heart swell with pride.
Clovis offered a friendly smile as he stood and extended a hand.
“So, you’re Josée. I’ve heard the rumors—from Serge, of course… and from other representatives as well.”
Josée was so overwhelmed she couldn’t find her voice. Serge gave her a subtle nudge, snapping her out of it.
“I’m honored you remember me, Representative Clovis.”
“I hear you’re interested in joining the Radical Party. We do have a few female members already—but all of them are noblewomen. A commoner would be a first, wouldn’t it?”
Josée nodded emphatically. Serge answered on her behalf, seeing she was still collecting herself.
“Indeed. But there’s no cause for concern. Madame Josée owns not just a brothel, but also Château Fournier on the outskirts. Her influence in the region surpasses that of most men.”
“Hm... You’ve been advocating for women’s suffrage, haven’t you?”
“Yes,” Josée replied.
“Is bringing Madame Josée into the party meant to be a kind of test case for that?”
“…First, we’ll need to amend the law to make any real progress, but eventually, yes,” Serge said. “Frankly, pushing noblewomen who’d simply defer to their husbands wouldn’t be very inspiring.”
“Hm…”
“I wouldn’t say this in front of our other female members, but since Josée is here… Married women would likely face pressure from husbands or relatives that could hold them back from becoming representatives. That’s why we need someone like the mistress of a brothel to lead the charge.”
At that, Josée snapped.
“What’s that supposed to mean? Don’t talk about me like I’m just a pawn on your game board. I’ll decide my own path.”
“…Be that as it may, Josée,” Serge said calmly. “As a party member, you’ll often need to follow the party line. Politics is about numbers—about collective strength. Especially in the opposition. If we don’t move strategically—like pieces on a chessboard—we’ll never win an election.”
His cool logic left Josée silent.
She’d always dismissed Serge as unreliable, maybe even a little slippery. But he was a politician who had actually won elections. He knew how the game was played—better than she did.
“…So you’re pushing me to achieve women’s suffrage?”
“Quite the opposite. Once suffrage is achieved, we’ll need strong-willed candidates to step forward. A commoner would be ideal—living proof that women, regardless of their station, can become representatives.”
“Like Representative Clovis?”
“Exactly. Would you be the second Clovis, Josée?”
At that, Clovis chuckled.
“Coming from a noble like you, that’s oddly flattering.”
Serge’s expression stiffened slightly.
“…My apologies.”
“No need. She certainly has a commanding presence. An ethnic minority, a young brothel owner, a woman who’s taken on men in power—and beautiful, too.”
At the word *beautiful*, Josée’s heart skipped.
—Only to immediately sink again at what followed.
*She’s just a vote magnet to them.*
Just then, the sound of a carriage echoed from outside. The front door burst open, and a flood of men poured into the reception room.