Chapter 82
Ever since Nerys had nominally become a complete orphan, Nellusion had subtly taken it upon himself to supply her with “essentials.”
But they were never truly essential—just the kind of things a duke’s son might think made him look generous: handkerchiefs, expensive slippers, and the like.
They were awkward gifts to refuse and unpleasant to actually use.
So in one corner of Nerys’s cramped room sat a chest, used solely to store Nellusion’s gifts as discreetly as possible.
The moment Nellusion’s name came up, Cledwyn’s expression twisted in displeasure. He hated him this much—was that idiot really still oblivious?
“I’ve let it go since it seemed calculated, but if it bothers you, I’ll put an end to whatever he sends.”
“It’s fine. It is calculated, after all. And there’s less than a month left anyway.”
Even someone that self-centered couldn’t keep asking the “new tutor” to exchange warm letters—not when it’d make him look like a fool.
Thinking back on the letters Nellusion had sent—pretending to inquire kindly after her while subtly hinting at officially adopting her into a branch family—was downright exhausting.
His intentions were obvious.
Among nobles their age, Nerys’s name was fairly well-known.
And having been part of the Sheridan Division, she was also recognized among the elite of the capital.
Now, just the name “Nerys Truydd” had become useful enough for arranged marriage negotiations. If she ever bore the surname “Elandria,” even in form only, her value would skyrocket.
Of course, it seemed Nellusion hadn’t seen her as worthy enough to bring into the main house just yet, no matter how much he wanted to make use of her.
‘I need to leave before anything happens.’
He was still pretending to feel things out slowly, but if Nellusion ever decided it was necessary to tie her down, he’d act without giving her any room to react.
So securing her early graduation had been a very good thing.
Nerys realized she’d become lost in thought mid-conversation. Glancing up cautiously, her eyes met Cledwyn’s directly.
Instead of hearing the same old line from her past life—“This is why no one likes you”—Cledwyn simply smiled gently.
As if to say, Take your time. It’s okay to forget I’m here, if that’s what you want.
They hadn’t seen each other in so long, only communicating through letters and spells, and yet he didn’t feel distant. And still, something about that handsome face stirred an unfamiliar sensation in her.
Unwilling to acknowledge it, Nerys deliberately turned her thoughts elsewhere.
The quiet carriage came to a stop in front of the massive, aged Akraldent Hall, where the graduation ball was being held. When the coachman opened the door, Cledwyn stepped out first.
Every movement he made painted lines like the arcs of rainbows or the sweep of a bird’s wings. Nothing was excessive, yet strength emanated from him—it was mesmerizing.
Taking his offered hand, Nerys slowly exited the carriage, when suddenly a question came to mind.
“Wait a second. Let’s say the reason you went near Sedona was to stop a runaway elder from digging up something to use against you. But then—why are you going to this party?”
There’s no need for it, right? Nerys’s question was met with the same practiced smile Cledwyn had worn a moment ago.
“To be your partner.”
What? That doesn’t explain anything—Nerys wanted to protest, but too many eyes were on them.
Students gathered around the hall’s entrance, chatting and looking for friends. Their presence stood out too much.
I’ll press him later. Making that mental note, Nerys held her tongue. After Cledwyn gently released her hand, she took his arm and naturally walked toward the hall entrance.
* * *
“Did everything go well?”
At Megara’s question, Alecto nodded.
“Yeah.”
“Well done. I knew you were clever.”
Megara had applied her makeup meticulously. Jewels adorned her honey-blonde hair, and she wore a dress the color of violets—like her eyes.
Her smile dazzled. Her beauty, which had bloomed in full with age, was rumored to be famous even beyond neighboring countries.
Students around them stared, utterly spellbound.
In fact, Megara Lykeandros was a school-wide celebrity. Not just for her looks, but for her popularity as well.
She was trusted by everyone, supported by the student council and various clubs throughout the academy.
Though unfortunately, she didn’t seem to get along with another heiress from a powerful house—Valentin Elandria, the likely next student council president…
Everyone had a rough idea. They knew what kind of temper Valentin had.
She must’ve been the one who picked a fight first. How hard it must be for kind Megara, who was always smiling. Poor thing.
Alecto was well aware of the blind adoration in their eyes. She thought to herself cynically:
‘Idiots who don’t know a damn thing.’
Even back in their first year, Alecto hadn’t thought much of Megara. If you paid attention to what she actually did, she wasn’t all that nice—just an expert at putting on an act.
Megara never left alone anyone who got on her nerves, yet she never did the dirty work herself.
Even Aidalia Kendall, another marquess’s daughter like Alecto, had been bullied so badly that she ended up transferring to the Theology Department by the end of that year.
And yet the other students believed they’d just come to dislike Aidalia on their own, while endlessly calling Megara “kind.”
Ever since Alecto had bowed her head and submitted to Megara years ago, she’d learned a great deal about her dirty tricks. It was only natural—she’d become the very tool Megara used to carry them out.
So Alecto believed that Megara was the one playing with Valentin Elandria, not the other way around, and she certainly didn’t pity her.
This time was no different. What Megara had orchestrated was sinister—though Alecto didn’t exactly mind.
A few days earlier, following Megara’s instructions, Alecto had stolen Nerys’s graduation ball gown.
It hadn’t been difficult. When the dress was nearly finished, she simply sent her servant to the tailor’s shop to collect it under Nerys’s name.
The green dress had been stunning. So much so, that Alecto—despite assuming it was cheap due to Nerys’s lack of a wealthy family—felt her own expensive gown looked plainer in comparison. That irritated her.
People should wear clothing appropriate for their status, shouldn’t they?
So, as she shredded the dress under Megara’s orders, Alecto felt a strange sense of satisfaction. It had been her idea to delay delivering the ruined gown until today.
That way, Nerys would be even more disheartened—and wouldn’t have enough time to prepare another gown.
How could she possibly show up at the ball without one?
‘At least I won’t have to see that idiot at the party tonight.’
Diane MacKinnon might show up, clinging to the pathetic guy who had a crush on her.
But how much dancing would Diane really do, anyway? As long as Nerys Truydd wasn’t there to embolden her, she’d likely stay tucked quietly in a corner.
Just imagining it made Alecto feel better. She recalled running into Nerys at the tailor and scoffed.
Arrogant thing… what does she even know? Living a cozy life thanks to some lucky connection to a relative.
Standing side by side, Alecto and Megara happily scanned the ballroom.
The student council had planned tonight’s event in three parts.
The first part was an opening ceremony where the council celebrated the graduating class with a formal ball. The second was the dance itself, where everyone could mingle and enjoy. And the third, a closing ceremony where the king and queen of the ball—voted on during the event—would be announced.
Typically, both the king and queen were chosen from the graduating year. However, Megara had attended last year’s ball when she turned seventeen and had unexpectedly been crowned queen.
Barring any surprises, this year’s queen was practically predetermined. Even more of her supporters from her class were attending this year than last.
Her partner for the evening, an older boy, approached her.
He was the second son of Duke Ganielo and already held a knightly title. Right now, he was absolutely beaming with pride—after all, the most beautiful and popular girl in school was his partner tonight.
“Maggy, I brought you a drink.”
“Thank you, Colin.”
Megara took the beautifully colored juice from Colin Ganielo and gave him a sweet smile. Colin was convinced: tonight, they’d be crowned king and queen.
Alecto, noticing the mood, quietly stepped away and headed to the table Colin had arranged for them.
Noble children couldn’t be expected to stand for the entire ball, so part of the hall had been set up with several tables and chairs.
The large rectangular table was open to all, but the small round tables each had owners—students wealthy enough to pay several times the entrance fee to reserve a private spot for themselves and their partners or friends.
If Megara was in a good mood later, Alecto might even get to dance with a few classmates.
A nice seat, a dress she liked, and not a single person she disliked in sight.
It wasn’t a bad graduation ball after all.
That was when the crowd’s attention shifted toward the entrance of the hall. Megara, innately sensitive to the public gaze, took a demure sip of juice and cast a sideways glance.
Who had arrived? Valentin Elandria? Princess Izet? Unless it was someone of that caliber, there was no reason for such a stir—
Glossy platinum blonde that shimmered like satin.
Eyes as clear and delicate as crystal.
Megara went pale with rage the moment she laid eyes on Nerys Truydd.
Far from the humble image Megara had expected—perhaps tagging along in some pitiful outfit beside Diane MacKinnon—Nerys stood arm-in-arm with a tall, handsome man, radiating nobility.
That stunning Tyrian purple—so extravagant that even most noble families couldn’t afford a single glove in that hue—wrapped around Nerys’s entire form, making her eye color stand out even more.
Her golden hair, dazzling like dawn light, cascaded past her shoulders in elegant waves.
There were levels to purple. Megara knew that. Her own dress, in its violet hue, was unmistakably a tier below that perfect Tyrian shade.
Devonshire Atelier—the same place Megara had commissioned her dress from—had shown her that exact fabric.
No matter how rich the Lykeandros family was, who would pay its weight in gold just for a gown worn to a single ball?
Even if she had coveted it, Megara had been able to give it up cleanly. It was a dress only someone like Valentin or Princess Izet could afford.
Which is why, before arriving tonight, Megara had been more than satisfied with her violet dress. And now, she hated it.
The way Nerys’s gown glowed with a mesmerizing sheen under the lights—like a rainbow trapped in silk—combined with those matching eyes, made it seem like she was mocking everyone else.
Whatever you cherish, I’ll always be above it.
Megara knew it well. She hated Nerys Truydd. She had disliked her from the very first moment they met—and now, that hatred was far deeper.
Yes. So much so that—
She wanted to take everything Nerys valued and flaunt it right in front of her.
She didn’t care what it cost. She would sacrifice anything for that satisfaction.
It wouldn’t be hard. Megara’s thoughts were icy and confident. She was very, very beautiful.
And she was a high noble.
Status and beauty. Had there ever been anything Megara couldn’t get with those two things?
