Chapter 23

“You are beautiful, Mother. The indigo dress matches your eyes perfectly; you look like a sea spirit out of ancient mythology.”

“Thank you. But why are you so incredibly grumpy?”

It was the night of the coronation ball.

On the grand staircase leading to the main hall, Juliana raised an eyebrow as she replied to the son who had offered his hand to escort her.

A compliment was all well and good, but adding “ancient” felt like a roundabout way of calling her old. Moreover, sea spirits—sirens—were treated as monsters, unlike other fairies.

Normally, he was flawless in his treatment of women. Rather than getting annoyed, Juliana tilted her head in concern, wondering what was wrong. Lucas grimaced with a look of awkwardness.

“—My apologies. My nerves have been a bit frayed these past few days.”

“That’s rare for you. Did a powerful enemy appear?”

“You could say that. A formidable and persistent one.”

He gave the answer while moving down the stairs with fluid grace.

When Juliana pressed him out of curiosity, Lucas explained with visible reluctance: “I’ve been under nightly attack.”

Lucas von Ludendorff was a young man blessed with masculine, handsome features and a tall frame, excelling in the martial arts. He possessed the education expected of a high noble, and while he occasionally showed the coldness typical of those who have too much, he was generally friendly and well-liked by everyone.

Furthermore, as the second prince, any woman who married him would be spared burdensome official duties while still being guaranteed a status higher than that of an ordinary noble. It was inevitable that women would swarm him.

Lucas himself was the type to enjoy the company of lovely women, and until now, he had moved between partners who understood the boundaries of a mature dalliance. But lately, the women had suddenly developed a frantic look in their eyes.

“…Well, if a woman serves as your partner at a ball where every member of the palace and the nation’s nobility is gathered, she is effectively your fiancé.”

“Exactly.”

Indeed.

Lucas, who had managed to slip away from such events in the past, was finally attending the ball. This had set every noble daughter—and even the common-born maids—on fire simultaneously.

Vague invitations and pleas in letters were one thing. But when it turned into ambushes and night-visits, sometimes involving aphrodisiacs, and all of this happening daily, even Lucas found himself in a dire strait.

In the end, he had managed to survive by declaring he would not dance with anyone and would devote himself entirely to escorting his mother.

There was no shame in an unmarried son escorting his widowed mother, but at nineteen, Lucas felt a sting of humiliation at the fact that he couldn’t repel women without relying on his parent’s help.

“They aren’t the type to listen to reason, but I can’t exactly lay a hand on them. Honestly, slaying magical beasts would be far easier.”

Juliana glanced at her grumbling son.

“That’s because you won’t hurry up and choose someone specific. Whether it was a noble daughter, a foreign princess, or even a girl of common birth, everyone would accept your choice eventually.”

It was unusual for royalty, but in Lucas’s case, since he was already a member of the knights, a romance with a commoner would likely be welcomed with cries of “It’s just like a storybook!”

“You’re still holding a grudge because I refused that engagement you tried to set up a few years ago, aren’t you, Mother? Please, stop. I have my own thoughts on the matter, you know.”

“I hope they aren’t some naive, boyish ideals. If they are, start facing reality. As a mother, even if her status is low, I’d support a woman who is skilled at brewing tea, fluent in languages, dexterous, full of surprises, and makes every day exciting.”

“…I won’t ask who you’re talking about.”

Lucas replied with a troubled expression.

Normally, he would have cut such a delusion down with a single word. However, since seeing “her” true face and that unexpected, vulnerable appearance the other day, his heart had been wavering slightly.

While lamenting his own simplicity, Lucas found it difficult to admit his feelings for Elma, partly due to a certain “policy” he had held for many years.

“I can’t very well go making a specific partner before my older brother does.”

When he voiced that policy in a joking tone, Juliana’s eyes widened for a moment. “What did you say?”

“You’re joking. Don’t tell me you’re actually showing loyalty to Prince Felix? To the man everyone calls the Foolish Prince?”

As the crowd at the bottom of the stairs drew closer, she kept a pleasant smile on her face while interrogating him in a low voice.

Just then, a servant announced loudly, “Presenting Her Former Highness Consort Juliana and His Highness Prince Lucas!” Cheers erupted from all sides, making further conversation impossible.

“—Do you really think that man is a foolish prince, Mother?”

Lucas’s small murmur was lost amidst the grains of light falling from the chandeliers and the waves of beautiful dresses and perfume; it reached no one’s ears.

The mood of Joran Svalbard, the violinist rumored to be loved by God, was at its absolute worst.

Glittering chandeliers hung overhead, tables across from him were laden with elaborate dishes, and beautiful ladies in fine dress passed before his eyes—but none of it offered him any comfort.

What he truly desired was to polish his own skill and play beautifully refined music to his heart’s content. He did not wish to drone through boring background music with a talentless orchestra.

Hearing the Luten player sitting next to him miss a note yet again, Joran grimaced in disgust.

‘The level here is far too low. I should never have accepted this job.’

He exhaled a soft sigh of regret, one of many he’d felt that night. He cursed himself for being enticed by the sweet talk of receiving support for musical activities in three different countries, which had led him to foolishly agree to perform at a ball.

‘Boring. This is the worst. This is a profanation of music.’

Joran was young and confident in his skill. Consequently, he possessed a sharp, haughty edge that led him to look down on those who lacked his talent. However, this was merely the flip side of his devotion to music—a love that bordered on religious faith.

‘Music is an absolute beauty that should make people kneel, transcending differences in language or the gods they believe in. It is not something to be consumed like this, a mere side dish for a clumsy performance.’

What was so fun about stepping through fixed patterns exactly as practiced? Music was not an accompaniment to the “monkey business” that was dancing. It deserved to be savored and praised far more.

And yet, it seemed this ball would not provide the opportunity for Joran to fulfill his purpose as a musician. Well, the Luten Marquis who sent the invitation had asked him to perform his “Supreme Trill” upon a signal, so perhaps that moment would be his only highlight.

Joran’s trills, which raced through scales at many times the speed of an ordinary person, were rumored to feel like divine grace and were his “trademark.” Though the technique was unnecessary for a gentle waltz, the attention it would garner would be immense.

Since he didn’t care if he abandoned this tedious orchestra at any moment, Joran intended to unleash the trill the second he got the signal—Marquis Rottner had promised to signal him at the moment of peak attention.

‘But… even so, this is dull.’

Joran wished a rival who could compete for the pinnacle of music, or perhaps a muse to whom he would want to dedicate his music, would appear.

The event was proceeding smoothly. The beautiful noble daughters and the star of the show, the future King Felix, had already made their entrances—Felix was a man with an unexpectedly thin presence; Joran thought the second prince who appeared earlier looked much more like a king—and after the initial greetings, the palace servants were now entering one after another.

While he thought it unusual to invite non-nobles, the possibility of a muse appearing from among the servants was even more remote.

With a sigh of resignation, Joran placed his hand on the notes for the final phrase of the background music—

Rippling murmur.

At that moment, the air in the hall shifted violently.

Everyone turned their eyes toward the top of the grand staircase at once. Joran followed suit instinctively, looking toward the top of the red-carpeted stairs.

“…!”

He let out an involuntary gasp.

A literal angel was standing at the top of the stairs.

The girl, clad in an ivory dress, stood with her slender limbs straight, quietly looking down at the room.

Even from a distance, her eyes—the color of the dawn sky—commanded everyone’s attention. Her skin was as smooth as milk, and her elegantly tied hair, her faintly tinted lips, the modest bridge of her nose, and even the lashes casting shadows upon her cheeks were all filled with a delicate beauty.

The dress was cinched just below her bust with a jeweled belt, and the modest hem that covered her legs without flaring out made her look incredibly pure.

A girl of such stainless, ephemeral beauty, she didn’t seem to belong to this world. No one could look away as she slowly descended the stairs.

Joran, too, found himself holding the final note of the piece much longer than necessary. In fact, the entire orchestra did. Only the final phrase had slowed to a crawl.

Joran watched in a daze for a while as she moved with the smoothness of a perfectly refined melody.

Only after she vanished from his sight did he finally come to his senses.

‘Good God…’

Joran thought blankly as he lowered his bow.

‘To think that I, of all people, would be distracted by something other than music.’

In the games of romantic push-and-pull, Lucas was always the victor.

Whether it was teasing or drawing someone in, he was the one in control. Women were supposed to approach him; his role was simply to cross his legs elegantly and wait. He would pick a woman from those who flocked to him with sweet voices, hold her, and kiss her. When he grew bored, they would both shrug and part ways with a smile. That was the cycle.

So, when he found himself rushing toward a girl just standing there, he realized this was actually the first time he had ever done such a thing.

“Hey.”

When he spoke with a voice tinged with slight panic, the girl looked up and turned around.

The girl with the dawn-colored eyes lowered her long lashes and elegantly pinched her hem to perform a curtsy.

“I trust Your Highness Prince Lucas is in good spirits.”

The gesture possessed the dignity of a princess, yet at the same time, it carried a very faint, alluring scent.

The moment she bowed, Lucas noticed the surrounding men swallowing hard at the sight of her slender shoulders and exposed nape. He instinctively wrapped his arm around her as if to shield her from their gaze.

“What is with this outfit today? And where are your usual glasses, Elma?”

“Is it strange?”

“No… it’s very beautiful, but…”

He trailed off.

It was unlike him to be unable to find the words to praise a beautiful woman to her face. Furthermore, he had abandoned the mother he was supposed to escort and passed over every noble lady he knew just to speak to a mere maid. It was utterly irrational.

To make matters worse, the fact that he had called her name caused the surroundings to start buzzing. They had likely realized that this stunning beauty was the same person as the “Incredibly Amazing Maid” currently being rumored about.

Lucas nearly ground his teeth at his own blunder.

“It is beautiful, but… too beautiful. Everyone is focusing on you instead of my older brother. Didn’t you say you hated standing out?”

“Strictly speaking, it is not that I hate standing out, but rather that I hate not being ‘normal’.”

“…What?”

She replied flatly, causing Lucas to narrow his eyes. However, the girl didn’t seem to care about his confusion at all.

“When challenged to a match, one must respond with all their strength. You fight on a shared stage, crossing fists, and eventually deepen your understanding and friendship… That is the ‘the standard protagonist’s journey’ you know so well, isn’t it, Your Highness?”

“…Huh?”

“To be honest, I did not expect even the ‘textbook’ lent to me by Dirk to suggest participating in this ball. However, since I interpreted both the lady’s (Gerda’s) textbook and the gentleman’s textbook as saying ‘approach the grand stage with all your might,’ I judged it common sense to arrive here in full equipment.”

“What on earth have you been talking about this whole time?”

Lucas couldn’t understand a word Elma was saying. However, he vividly understood one thing: the situation was filled with an ominous premonition.

When he tried to take her arm, the girl—looking like a lovely fairy—lightly dodged him.

“Oops. I do not know how the enemy will move yet, so please refrain from unnecessary provocation. However, once the fires of battle are lit—I would be grateful if you would lend me your strength.”

“I’m asking you, what are you talking about!?”

“A story of friendship, effort, and victory.”

That was the part that made zero sense.

Elma quickly turned on her heel. The eyes of everyone nearby followed the subtle sway of her hem.

『Hey…! Was that really Elma!? Amazing, she’s wonderful! She’s even better than I imagined!』

At that moment, his mother, Juliana, spoke to him in the Rutland language, her voice full of excitement. She watched Elma’s departing figure—as the girl navigated the wave of people with grace and boldness—with an enchanted expression.

『Ah…! I knew she was a pretty girl, but I never expected this. It was well worth providing Gerda with the dress and makeup!』

“Wait, you were in on this, Mother?”

As Lucas turned around in shock, another voice called out.

“Yo, Lucas. Is that Elma? She’s incredible. The young guys in the knights order are losing their minds.”

It was Vice-Commander Dirk.

His stern face and massive frame were wrapped in formal attire for once, and he was scratching his cheek with a look of slight bewilderment.

“She’s… well, how do I put it… a proper ‘woman,’ isn’t she? I lent her my favorite book the other day with the feeling of a big brother talking to a little brother, but maybe I was a bit hasty.”

“…What did you say?”

Sensing a bad omen, Lucas questioned him with a sharp, dangerous tone. Dirk replied quite bluntly.

“Well, Elma seemed bothered that you rejected the thing she was using as a textbook. She asked me to lend her a book that could serve as general education or shared knowledge, so I lent her my personal all-time bestseller.”

“…”

Lucas didn’t even need to ask what that “bestseller” was to feel like looking up at the ceiling in despair. Dirk loved “hot-blooded” stories where a hardworking protagonist challenged a genius rival with everything they had to snatch victory, or teamed up with allies to take down a powerful foe.

‘If she thinks ‘Defeat the enemy with all your might’ is common sense… please tell me a duel, a battle, or a war isn’t about to break out here.’

Perhaps it would have been better to let Elma believe the romance novels—which were at least unrelated to combat scenes—were the standard for “common sense.”

That thought flickered through his mind. And, as if to prove his fears right, a small incident erupted near a group of noble daughters on the other side of the crowd.

“Elma, was it? For a mere maid, aren’t you getting a bit too full of yourself!?”

Along with the shrill voice, the sound of thin glass shattering clink! rang out.

One didn’t need much deductive reasoning to figure it out. A proud type of noble daughter, feeling threatened by having the men’s attention stolen, had thrown a tantrum. Lucas, unfortunately, knew exactly who possessed a temperament so lacking in common sense that they would throw a glass in a place like this.

Caroline von Feinen. The girl who had gone so far as to use an aphrodisiac to try and get close to Lucas.

“Oh dear, my hand slipped. An ivory dress must be a precious treasure to someone like you. My apologies. But if you’re a maid, you must be good at laundry, right? Why don’t you head back to your post before the wine soaks all the way into your only good outfit?”

As he approached, Lucas could see Caroline’s face, the very picture of arrogance. The moment she spotted him, she immediately flipped her attitude and put on a fawning expression.

“My, Prince Lucas! What brings you here? Could it be that you’ve come to invite me for the first dance?”

Her ability to switch personas so quickly was almost impressive as a performance, but unfortunately, Lucas didn’t have the luxury of enjoying it right now. He was worried.

“I thought I heard a sound unfitting for a conversation between ladies. What exactly—”

“Oh, you are so kind. As you can see, I accidentally spilled wine on her. But it’s her fault, you know.”

Caroline pressed close to him, trying to block his path. But seeing the girl standing there with her white dress stained red, Lucas’s concern only deepened.

“She actually demanded an apology the moment we met! I was so scared, but now that you’re here, I feel safe.”

“Hey.”

“You’ll dance a song with me, won’t you? I’ve been polishing my dancing just for this day—”

“Hey, Caroline von Feinen.”

Lucas interrupted the Count’s daughter and her excited delusions with a weary voice.

“Do you… have any idea what kind of fire you’ve just lit?”

“…Huh?”

Caroline stood there blankly, but before Lucas could explain—

Splash.

A light sound of liquid hitting fabric echoed around them.

Shocked, Lucas turned to see Elma still standing there silently. The beautiful girl held an empty wine glass in her slender hand; she had just finished dousing her own white dress with the contents.

“…!? W-What are you—”

“Since it appears that Lady Caroline von Feinen prefers a clash of fists over a discussion with words, I thought we might have a Kouhaku-jiai.”¹

Elma finally spoke quietly, but Caroline didn’t understand the meaning of her words. The Count’s daughter, breaking into a light cold sweat, stammered with her heavily painted lips.

“A-A Red and White Match…?”

“Yes. It may be presumptuous, but I, Elma, shall take the role of the ‘Red’ team going first.”

“Huh…?”

Before the speechless Caroline, Elma—without any hesitation—grabbed a part of her hem and ripped it open all the way up to her right thigh.

“Wha…!?”

The sudden, dazzling glimpse of her thigh made not only the men but even the surrounding women blush. But Elma didn’t stop there. She reached into her elegantly styled hair and boldly shook it loose.

“…!”

In the next moment, an enchanting Queen of Crimson appeared.

With her loosely waving black hair draped over her bare shoulders and a melancholic smile in her dawn-colored eyes, she was an exceptionally glamorous, bold, and seductive—a truly bewitching beauty.

“Would you mind lending me your assistance?”

She tilted her head slightly and held out her right hand toward Lucas. Even her whispering voice was as sweet as honey.

She possessed a stifling allure, like a courtesan who could bring down a nation.

‘Give me a break…’

While feeling the illusion that his brain was melting, Lucas watched with a sense of despair as his own arm moved by reflex to take her hand.

Indeed, he had been worried. Worried for Lady Caroline, who was about to have her pride thoroughly crushed—and for himself, who was being dragged along for the ride.

‘Look at that face…’

The girl’s face was now filled with a provocative beauty capable of toppling any man. But more than that…

—Very well. Then it is war.

She was filled with the battle-hungry spirit of a protagonist from a shonen manga.