Secrets of the Silent Witch - Volume 4 - Chapter 10

CHAPTER 10

I Am Yours

Monica finally talked her way past Nero and arrived at Lana’s room, where her friend stared hard at her, eyes huge.

“You don’t look very well,” she pointed out. “Are you feeling all right? Do you need to rest?”

Monica had been trying her best to keep her back straight and her expression normal, but apparently her complexion was so poor that Lana noticed with a single glance. She told Lana she was just tired from all the fun at her first school festival and convinced her to go ahead and help her get ready.

The dress Monica was borrowing for the ball had been altered quite a bit at Lana’s father’s instruction. It was a calm green with a streamlined design, its upper part featuring minimal ornamentation. Fabric overlaid with lace formed the skirt, which flowed beautifully toward the hem. With every step she took, the lustrous cloth rustled and swayed.

On the whole, the dress was cute, but not too childish. It had a casual beauty without being overly flowery. Everything about the garment, down to its minor details, had been calculated, and even Monica—who knew nothing about such things—could tell that it suited her.

Finally, Lana tied Monica’s hair with a ribbon the same color as the dress, weaving it into a braid. Then Lana took the final section of her friend’s hair and worked it into another, thinner braid.

“What, um, are you going to do with that braid?”

“Heh-heh.” Lana smiled with satisfaction. “Just you wait.”

First she loosened the braid a little; then she wound it up and fixed it in place with a pin. Now complete, the braid formed the shape of a flower.

“That’s amazing!” exclaimed Monica. “My hair looks like a flower!”

“This style is very fashionable right now,” bragged Lana. Her own hair was done into a flower shape on the side as well.

Monica couldn’t stop her face melting into a silly grin. “…Hee-hee. We match.”

“W-we do indeed! Cute, right?”

“Mm-hmm. Hee-hee.”

Lana hadn’t used any fancy barrettes or clips to do Monica’s hair, yet it was still pretty. Above all, it looked very intricate.

Once Lana finished setting her friend’s hair, she began to skillfully apply makeup to Monica’s face. Compared to the chess competition, it was a little thicker and more noticeable.

When that was done, Monica affixed the white rose decoration to her dress at the chest. The white flower looked beautiful against the dress’s simple design.

“Vice President Ashley should be delighted to see you all dressed up!” said Lana as she put away her makeup kit.

Monica tilted her head in confusion. Why would Lord Cyril be delighted? she wondered. Maybe it was because she wouldn’t embarrass the student council now that her appearance was in order.

As Monica proposed this answer to herself, Lana looked at the decoration, the corners of her lips tugging up into a grin. “Do your best out there,” she said.

“…U-um, okay?”

Eliane had opted to purchase a new dress for the night’s ball. It had been tailored by a craftsperson of some renown, and its pink color and light, airy fabric perfectly brought out Eliane’s lovely, delicate charms. She’d done her soft hair up in a cute style, scattering flower decorations throughout it. Her servants had all complimented her, saying she looked like a fairy princess.

She was the prince’s second cousin, considered one of the three most beautiful girls at Serendia Academy, and the heroine of the play earlier that day. As soon as she stepped into the ballroom, all eyes should have been on her.

And she did hear praise—but it was directed elsewhere.

“Ahhh, Lady Bridget truly brings color and beauty wherever she goes.”

“Lady Claudia is so gorgeous… It’s as though I’m looking into a different world when I see her.”

Eliane followed the crowd’s gaze. The first person she saw was Bridget Greyham, the daughter of Marquess Shaleberry and student council secretary. She was having a calm, casual discussion with a guest.

The design of her dress wouldn’t have worked for just anyone—it was grape, with lace and a low neckline—but it looked natural on her, even stylish. The biggest highlight, however, was her hair, just as brilliant as her dress—those gorgeous blond curls. It was likely her intelligent, elegant behavior that prevented the gaudy outfit from looking vulgar. Most importantly, she recognized all the guests and understood their relationships with one another. She always knew the right thing to say to whomever she spoke with. Conversational skills like that were very hard to come by.

From behind her folding fan, Eliane shifted her eyes to the opposite side of the room. There was Claudia Ashley, the daughter of Marquess Highown, resting on a sofa by the wall, a listless look on her face.

She wore a slender navy-blue dress that perfectly brought out her beauty and class. Her glossy hair was elegantly styled, tied up with a rather large ornament, a single tuft hanging down at her side. Her mystical beauty made even that tuft of hair look exquisite. She sat, impassive as a doll. Every blink or fidget caused the men around her to gaze at her passionately, as though hoping for more.

Everyone was dressed up brilliantly for the ball, but Bridget’s and Claudia’s beauty stood out. Eliane was always counted among their number in terms of attractiveness, and yet she could never measure up to them when compared.

But so what? she told herself. As a noble lady, I know my family and behavior are just as important. My family is the most noble there is, and my behavior leaves nothing to be desired, even compared to them.

Eliane flashed a smile at a few boys nearby. They smiled in turn and came to surround her, showering her with compliments.

“You’re like a spring fairy,” one said. “How lovely you look,” said another. “Your charm is more than my heart can take.”

Cheered by their words, Eliane scanned the room for Felix from behind her folding fan. She found him immediately—he was probably the most conspicuous person there and wasn’t hard to spot.

She would have liked to go up to him and ask for his opinion on her dress, but he was busy talking with his grandfather, Duke Clockford. Interrupting them would be a terrible faux pas for a noble lady. Better to hold back instead, naturally making her way toward him until he addressed her first.

He’d never ignore her. After all, she was his most suitable partner.

…Oh?

Suddenly, Eliane noticed a stir near one of the tables in the back. She could see a few girls surrounding a boy. The boy in the center was Glenn Dudley, the very student who had taken on the role of the hero Ralph during the play that day. He was easy to make out even among the gaggle of girls because of his height. Apparently, they were quite interested in him because of his earlier performance.

My, my, what have we here? What, pray tell, is so good about that brutish, vulgar man? How I pity those who shall never receive Prince Felix’s attention.

As she privately scorned the girls making a fuss over Glenn, she listened in on what they were saying. They were all squealing and speaking in high-pitched voices, talking about how wonderful the play was, asking him all sorts of questions and trying to get to know him better.

One of them flushed rose-red, entranced, and said, “Lord Dudley, I heard you’re a pupil of the Barrier Mage…”

“Yeah, that’s right!”

This shocked Eliane. Wh-what did she just say…?!

Glenn Dudley was a transfer student in the second year of the advanced course, and his common behavior always made him stick out like a sore thumb. But his personality had its charms, and it seemed he did have some friends.

As far as Eliane was concerned, he was a delinquent, not fit to attend the academy. For some reason, though, he was on good terms with some of the student council members, and even Felix seemed partial to him.

A pupil of one of the Seven Sages? And the Barrier Mage, at that—a promising young man well-liked even in high society. Becoming a Sage grants a rank equivalent to Count, and more importantly, a role as an aide to His Majesty… An authority among authorities. Will Glenn Dudley eventually hold the same position?

Half ignoring the praise from her hangers-on, Eliane focused more on the conversation between Glenn and the girls.

“Your outfit today suits you ever so well, Lord Dudley.”

“Eh-heh-heh. My master picked it out for me!”

Everyone could tell that Glenn’s formal wear had been made by a first-rate tailor. His slender jacket was up-to-date with current trends, such as in the shape of the collar and the overall silhouette, and it looked perfect on the long-limbed boy.

Louis Miller, his master, was thought of as very fashionable even by the noblewomen of high society. Glenn’s clothing was every bit as refined and sophisticated as you’d expect from such a man.

It was rather disappointing to see some unruly stray curls poking out, but even among present company, Glenn stood out just as much as Felix—though part of it was just how big and loud he was.

One of the young ladies smiled bashfully and asked him, “Have you decided who you’ll be dancing with?”

“Hmm. I’m not that great at dancing. For now, I just want to chow down until I’m fit to burst.”

The girls giggled at that, seeming to enjoy even his lack of inhibition. Another one asked, half jokingly, “Lord Dudley, what sort of girls do you prefer?”

“Oh! I wanted to ask the very same thing!”

“As did I!”

Yes, I’d very much like to hear your answer, thought Eliane, directing her full attention toward Glenn.

He folded his arms and hummed in thought. Eventually, letting his eyes drift around the room, he answered, “Someone like Amelia, I guess.”

Amelia, the wife of the kingdom’s founder, King Ralph—the very part Eliane had played earlier that day. Wasn’t he essentially declaring that he yearned for Eliane?

Oh! Oh my! Why, you should have just told me that earlier! she thought. And she, in turn, would respond with, Rather than Ralph, I prefer Prince Felix!

As she mentally rehearsed this mean-spirited exchange, Glenn’s voice reached her ears once again. “I’ve always been into cool types like Amelia, ever since I read the stories of the first king as a kid,” he explained. “Not only is she cool, she’s good at her job, and she’s always honest when she sees something wrong, telling it the way it is! She’d take me seriously when I had something to say… And if I got hurt, she’d get angry, sigh, and then patch me up anyway. You know—the older-woman type!”

Eliane had to consciously prevent her jaw from dropping.

Every single one of those characteristics was the exact opposite of Eliane. Plus, as a first-year student in the advanced course, she was even younger than him. She hid her face behind her fan as her cheeks drew back in distaste.

The boys surrounding her started asking if she was all right, so she quickly recovered her beautiful, charming smile and looked at them with upturned eyes. “Oh, you’ve all been complimenting me so much that I finally got embarrassed.”

The expressions of those around her all melted away into bliss.

See? she thought. This is how a lady is supposed to be. Glenn Dudley has no taste. There is such a pretty girl who just acted with him in a play right here, and yet he doesn’t even come to say hello, much less compliment me! If he did turn to say hello to her… And if he did compliment her, she’d be willing to admit he had a little taste.

As if reading her mind, Glenn suddenly looked up in Eliane’s direction. Naturally, she had no intention of going over to speak with him. She wondered what she’d say first when he greeted her. Perhaps something like, Oh, and who might you be, again?

“Heeey!” called Glenn, lumbering over to Eliane with big steps.

Then he smoothly passed right by her and went over to a petite girl standing near the entrance.

“Oh, I knew it was you, Monica!” he exclaimed. “Is that the dress Lana mentioned? It looks great!”

“Th-thank you… Hee-hee.”

Eliane’s folding fan fell from her hands, prompting worried remarks from her hangers-on. But she didn’t hear a word.

There was a quiet anger in her bluish-gray eyes as she watched Glenn Dudley and Monica Norton.

At this point, she no longer cared about appearances.

So she marched straight over to Felix.

As Monica spoke with Glenn, she sensed envious glances being cast in their direction. Several other students, mainly girls, seemed to want to talk with him. She figured it was because of the play earlier that day. She grinned wryly to herself as she recalled the huge applause at the end, a stark contrast to the chaos behind the scenes.

“Come to think of it, shouldn’t Lana be with you?” he asked her.

“Um, well…”

They’d been together until they arrived at the grand hall. But once they entered, Lana went off to do her own thing, saying something about her presence making Monica harder to approach.

After Monica explained, seeming rather troubled, Glenn quirked his head to the side in confusion. “Who’s approaching who now? And what for?”

“I don’t really know, either…” Monica tilted her head, equally confused as she recalled Lana’s knowing smile.

She doubted dwelling on it would provide an answer, though, so she stopped. “Glenn, um, your clothes are wonderful.”

Though she knew next to nothing about fashion, she still felt that Glenn’s formal wear suited him perfectly.

Glenn scratched his head, a little embarrassed at the straightforward praise. “Heh-heh. To tell the truth, my master picked these out for me.”

“Mis— You mean the Barrier Mage?” she replied, quickly correcting herself before she could say Mister Louis. Glenn didn’t know that he and Monica were colleagues, nor did he know who Monica really was.

“I figured we were supposed to wear our uniforms to the ball, so I didn’t bother preparing anything. But then, this morning, his contracted spirit delivered a whole outfit!”

Louis had called Ryn away a little before Monica slipped out of her attic room and met Ray that morning. Apparently, she had been delivering the outfit to Glenn.

Mr. Louis is pretty diligent, she thought. He’d just bought her a set of clothing for going out, not to mention a coat. While Louis was arrogant and rude, the type to force Monica to take on an undercover mission and send his pupil in as a decoy without telling him anything, he could be oddly conscientious about certain things.

Just then, Glenn said, “Oh,” and looked behind her. Monica followed his gaze.

Glenn had spotted Cyril, dressed in navy-blue formal wear, quickly walking through the ballroom and looking every which way. His expression betrayed a sense of urgency. Had some kind of trouble come up?

Before Monica could say anything, Glenn waved his hand high in the air and called out to him. “Heya, Vice President! Something bothering you?”

“Hrm? Oh, hello, Glenn Dudley, Accountant Norton.” Cyril walked over to them and threw another glance around the room. Finally, he lowered his perpetually raised eyebrows a little in an expression of distress. “Have you seen the band’s conductor anywhere?”

According to him, the conductor had gone to wash his hands and gotten lost. Without him, the performance couldn’t start.

Monica looked around, then asked, “Do you know what the person looks like, Lord Cyril?”

“He’s about as tall as me, a little plump, and he’s over fifty. He has white hair curled at the ends, and he’s wearing a black suit.”

“Um, if I knew the length of his legs or arms or the precise size of his facial features, it would increase my precision…”

“How should I know?!” Cyril paused. “Wait. Precision? What on earth do you mean by precision?”

Monica didn’t answer. Instead, she secretly used a farsight spell without chanting. Now she could see all around, even at a distance…but as short as she was, people kept getting in the way. Groaning a little, she stood on her tiptoes.

Glenn, with an understanding look, put his arms under Monica’s and lifted her small body upward.

Cyril’s eyes flew open. “What do you think you’re doing?!” he yelled.

“This will help her see farther. Monica, do you see the conductor anywhere?”

She was a little—no, very embarrassed at Glenn picking her up, but it did help.

Monica could accurately measure a person’s height or the length of their limbs just by looking at them. Even from far away, she only had to calculate distance and angles to reach a pretty good estimate.

From up in Glenn’s arms, Monica fixed her gaze on a certain point and began to speak.

“Three men meet the criteria. One has his hair tied in the back, another has a hooked nose, and the third is standing with his wife. The second one’s arms are of slightly different lengths, so I would guess he has played some kind of instrument for a long time.”

“Does the hooked-nose man have a pin on his lapel? All the band members have one.”

It was too far for a normal person to see, but with her farsight spell, Monica had a good view of the man’s collar. She adjusted the spell to focus in on it and made out a pin there in the shape of a violin.

“He’s wearing a violin pin,” she said.

“That’s our man,” replied Cyril. “Sorry, but could you bring me to him?”

“Y-yes, sir!”

Thanking Glenn for picking her up, Monica headed off with Cyril toward the conductor.

The man was pretty far away. Cyril squinted in the direction she’d indicated, then said dubiously, “I’m surprised you could see him from this distance.”

She couldn’t exactly tell him she’d used magecraft, so she just smiled vaguely and said, “Uh, I have, um, really good vision.”

That wasn’t a complete lie. For someone who spent a lot of time writing in dimly lit spaces, she did have pretty good eyesight. Not good enough to see from one end of the hall to the other, but still.

They found the conductor immediately. Cyril called out to him, and they pointed him toward the band and sent him on his way.

As the musical performance finally began, Cyril sighed in relief. “My thanks,” he said to her. “You really helped me out there. The band is bigger this year, which also means more unforeseen issues.”

“Um, I thought Lord Maywood was responsible for the band.”

In general, Neil was in charge of behind-the-scenes work at the ball. Come to think of it, Cyril had been helping him out during the preparations, too. Had something come up that Monica didn’t know about?

“Um, did something happen to Lord Maywood?” she asked. “Maybe I should help, too—”

“No, it’s nothing like that.” Cyril shook his head, his gaze drifting away a little awkwardly. “I wanted to find a way to give Officer Maywood some free time, so I offered to trade places.”

“…?”

Why would Cyril do something like that?

But a moment later, something dawned on her. She’d had a lot of free time that day at the festival. One reason was that as accountant, she had little to do at the actual event. That said, the others could easily have assigned her more work as a member of the student council.

Before the festival had gotten started, Felix had told her something: “This is your first student festival. I hope you have a lot of fun.”

Cyril was probably showing the same consideration for Neil that Felix was for her. That way, Neil, who would otherwise have been incredibly busy, could enjoy the ball, too, if only a little.

Privately ashamed that she hadn’t figured this out earlier, Monica watched as one of the students on reception duty walked briskly up to Cyril and whispered something in his ear.

The vice president’s eyebrow twitched. “I see. I’ll be right there,” he replied.

Then, looking between Monica’s face and the floral decoration at her chest with a frown, he said, “Could I ask you to do something for me, Accountant Norton?”

“Y-yes, sir! What is it?!”

“There’s been some trouble at reception. I’d like to head over right now, but we don’t have enough people on kitchen liaison duty. Could you help coordinate until a replacement arrives?”

Kitchen liaison duty entailed maintaining communication between the ballroom and the kitchen. Usually, the waitstaff and cooks communicated directly, but when neither of them could handle a situation, a go-between was necessary to transport items and resolve issues.

Cyril had never assigned this kind of job to Monica before. She had poor interpersonal skills, so he always gave her behind-the-scenes tasks involving numbers.

That must be why he was so anxious. Naturally, so was she. Before, she might have shaken her head and cried that she couldn’t do it.

But today I have this charm, so…!

She looked at the white rose affixed to her dress—the charm Cyril had given her so she wouldn’t embarrass herself. After burning its image into her mind, she looked up. “I’ll…I’ll do it!”

Cyril frowned at her again. He was probably conflicted, too. Everyone knew how socially anxious she was. He was doubtless worried about giving her such a task.

“…If nothing happens, you can simply wait there until you’re needed. If you have any trouble, call me.”

“Y-yes, sir!” she said with more force than usual.

The effort made her dizzy for a moment. The poison was all gone, but she still wasn’t back to full health. The exhaustion of running around school all day had piled up, too.

But Cyril was probably just as tired. So Monica straightened up in her corset and headed for the grand hall’s attached kitchen.

In a corner in the ballroom, Felix was quietly conversing with his grandfather, Duke Clockford.

“The lords thought quite highly of the play,” remarked the duke with his usual gravitas.

Felix took this compliment with a smile. “I’m happy to hear it. I hope you enjoyed it as well, Grandfather.”

“I hear the main role was played by the Barrier Mage’s pupil.”

“Yes, that would be Glenn Dudley, a second-year student in the advanced course. He’s an extremely talented young man.”

“Reward him as you see fit.”

This was an order to win the boy over, since his master openly supported the first prince. Felix maintained his gentle smile and narrowed his eyes. “I will, Grandfather.”

This was the most influential noble in the kingdom and his grandson, a prince. Perhaps inevitably, all eyes were on them. But as everyone stood around, vainly wishing to speak to them, one girl gallantly strode up and curtsied politely—Eliane Hyatt, the daughter of Duke Rehnberg.

“Good evening, Your Grace.”

“Lady Eliane,” responded the duke. “Your performance in the play was every bit as beautiful as one would expect of the first queen Amelia.”

Her face lit up. “Oh, I’m honored, Your Grace! May I ask if you’ve spoken to my father yet?”

“We shared a few words earlier.”

“We would very much like to invite you to our lands during the winter break. Along with His Highness.”

“I will consider it.”

Duke Clockford had just praised Eliane’s acting as befitting of Queen Amelia. One might infer that also meant she was fitting to be queen for real.

Perhaps understanding that, the girl’s face flushed with delight.

Eventually, as the band’s performance got underway, the duke looked at Felix and Eliane. “The dance has begun. Go on and join.”

Eliane, holding back the pride and victory she clearly felt, looked up at Felix with a perfectly modest, ladylike expression. “Prince Felix…may I have this dance?”

“Of course.” The prince smiled sweetly and handsomely, gesturing for her to follow him onto the dance floor.

When they began, everyone’s focus immediately shifted to them. Those around them were enamored with the sight of such an attractive prince and a duke’s daughter dancing together.

And as they showed off their skill, in the brief moment when they changed direction, each of them scanned their surroundings.

Eliane looked for Glenn. He was over at the refreshments table, stuffing his face with meat. As expected, he wasn’t paying any attention to the dance floor.

Felix looked for Monica. She was discussing something with Cyril. As expected, she wasn’t paying any attention to the dance floor.

My, my, my… More interested in food than me? thought Eliane. Just what sort of brain is stuffed into that head of yours, I wonder. Look at me, Glenn Dudley, and curse your fate. Watch the prince and me dance, and bite your nails in envy instead of biting into those sausages!

Monica has no idea what that floral decoration is for…, thought Felix. Don’t you think it’s a little unfair to call it a good-luck charm instead of telling her the truth, Cyril? Taking advantage of her ignorance to ask her for a dance…

Can’t you see I’m right here, dancing with Prince Felix? At least spare me a glance. Have some sort of interest in me!

I doubt she cares much who I dance with. Though I suppose I knew that already. But we did spend a night together and all, so I feel like she could afford to pay a little more attention.

Then Felix and Eliane met each other’s gazes once again, each of them offering a perfect, flawless smile.

“Dancing with you is like a dream, Prince.”

“I’m honored to hear that.”

They continued their dance, each pouring their focus in a different direction.

Claudia sat on the sofa, emanating a decidedly dreary aura. The utter gloom surrounding her was such that one might guess a terrible accident had befallen some dear relative of hers that very day.

No matter how dark her expression, though, it did nothing to blemish her overall beauty. To the men with feelings for her, even this palpable depression came off as a somber sort of transience.

“Lady Claudia, would you do me the honor of accepting this rose?”

The man down on his knee in front of Claudia offering her a floral decoration was the ninth challenger today. Hidden behind her folding fan, she exhaled. “Almost in the double digits…”

“Did you say something, my lady?”

She was referring to the number of flowers she’d thrown in the trash bin.

Claudia slowly sat up from the armrest she’d been leaning against and stared at the red rose being proffered. “I do like flowers,” she said.

“I chose a rose beautiful enough to suit you. It’s a new species my family has cultivated. It has a strong scent…”

“Yes, it does smell nice…”

A thin smile surfaced on Claudia’s doll-like face. That alone made her so beautiful that everyone around her caught their breaths, charmed.

The mystical black-haired beauty maintained her alluring smile and spoke to the man who had offered her the flower.

“…Its scent is too strong. I’d rather not wear it.”

The man’s face went still as stone. Muffled chuckles broke out among those privy to the exchange.

This would have broken most people’s hearts, but this ninth challenger was more persistent than the rest. “My family has a strong relationship with House Ashley—”

“Three generations ago, yes.”

“I’ve always wanted to talk with you, Lady Claudia.”

“If you’re after a connection to House Ashley, it would be quicker to suck up to my brother instead.”

“No, Lady Claudia, you’re the one I’m interested in. I’ve never seen a woman as beautiful as you.”

Claudia narrowed her lapis lazuli eyes and hid her mouth behind her fan. “Oh, how wonderful to have so little experience… You can offer such lines to every new woman you meet.”

Though the grand hall was buzzing with lively activity, a chill could be felt around Claudia’s sofa. The man fell silent.

Then someone else spoke up from behind him, a little reserved. “Um, excuse me…”

Behind the first young man stood a slightly awkward, short boy in formal attire. It was Neil Clay Maywood, the student council’s officer of general affairs.

Claudia looked at him impassively. “You’re my fiancé. Why are you waiting in line?”

“Huh?! We may be engaged, but I can’t cut in line!”

So earnest.

The man who until now had been trying to court her knew that Neil was her fiancé. He put on a flimsy, insincere smile and quickly withdrew.

Without sparing him a glance, Claudia looked up at Neil. As a member of the student council, he was always busy during events like these. He probably still had work left. It was unusual for him to even speak to her while on the job.

“Did something happen?” she asked.

Neil cleared his throat awkwardly, then brought his right hand from behind his back and held it out to her. In his palm was a floral decoration made of an orange rose tied with a brown ribbon.

As Claudia’s eyes slowly widened, he smiled bashfully. “May I have this dance?”

It took several seconds for her to process what he was saying. She certainly wasn’t trying to make fun of him—her words really did catch in her throat. It took a moment for her to speak.

“I believe such ornaments are meant as promises to dance later, not for giving to someone right before you dance with them.”

But instead of saying how happy she would be to accept his offer, what came first was a rather mean-spirited remark.

Neil didn’t seem offended, though. In fact, he looked apologetic. “Ah, I-I’m so sorry. I wasn’t sure if I’d have the time to dance today, so I thought it would be rude to make a promise like that, and…”

His response was exactly as Cyril had predicted.

Claudia narrowed her wide eyes, softening them into a smile. “Will you put it on for me?”

“Of course!”

Neil bent down in front of her—she was still sitting on the sofa—and reached for the upper part of her dress. He was very careful not to touch her as he affixed the decoration. Always so earnest.

Once he was done, he gave a slightly pained grin. “I suppose a different color of rose would have matched your blue dress better. So sorry…for, well, picking a color I liked.”

“…I love it.”

And she loved him—for being so considerate about matching Claudia instead of trying to dye her in his own colors.

I wish you would do more of the latter, she thought. She wanted him to be attached to her, to think of her as his own, and to make that fact known to the world.

Claudia extended a hand, and Neil took it with a natural motion. Side by side, she was significantly taller than him. She’d purposely chosen shoes with low heels, but the height difference was obvious regardless.

“I wondered if you wanted to avoid dancing with a taller girl,” she commented.

“Huh?! I-I’m sorry. It must be difficult to dance with me, since I’m so short. Um, if you’re really having trouble, just tell me, okay?”

And indeed, even now, he was filled with consideration for her. How annoying—and how charming—her beloved was.

“I could dance until morning, you know,” she said.

“Oh, um, I’m sorry. I won’t be able to do that,” Neil answered immediately.

She shot him an ever-so-slightly sour glare, eliciting a troubled look from her partner.

“Vice President Ashley is taking over for me at the moment,” he explained. “Even though he’s busy himself. He’s been helping me since this morning…” Suddenly, he covered his mouth with a hand and looked up at her uncomfortably. “He told me to keep that a secret from you, though… Please don’t tell him I told you…”

“……”

Claudia looked around, but Cyril wasn’t in the ballroom. He was probably scrambling around behind the scenes, all for Neil’s sake—putting himself second.

How very like him. So obstinate and yet so oddly considerate… How distasteful, she thought. Now she would have to find some way to repay this debt.

If she could, she wanted to repay it in such a way that her older brother would thank her with the most unhappy look imaginable.