Chapter 86
If Nerys said she wanted to work at the Imperial Palace, Izet would wonder why so many good families, who would undoubtedly call for her, were being ignored in favor of becoming a tutor in a nameless distant village.
She would probably also think it would have the side effect of making Cledwyn suspicious of Nerys.
And if Nerys said she had no intention of working at the Imperial Palace, Izet would believe there must be a strong reason to reject such a good opportunity so firmly.
Just a little over a month more. After that, it wouldn’t matter whether or not it became known that Nerys was working for Cledwyn.
The reason she was hiding their agreement for now was simply to ensure the safety of her journey north.
So that Nellusion, knowing she had no intention of following him, Abelus, who would erupt in fury at anything related to Cledwyn, and the Marquess of Tipian, who didn’t care about blood ties, would not pay attention to her.
Thus, escaping from the trap was simple.
“At the Imperial Palace… is that what you mean, Your Highness? I…”
Nerys, uncharacteristically hesitant, glanced at Valentin.
As expected, the displeased Valentin coldly glanced at Nerys and then haughtily turned away.
The seasoned high-ranking nobles, experienced in human relations, understood enough from that alone why Nerys would reject the honor, one far exceeding her background, of a position in the Imperial Palace.
Even at the supposedly fair—according to them—school, everyone knew Valentin disliked Nerys. In the entirely connection-based society of the court, it would be child’s play for Valentin to sink a young relative.
Their understanding wasn’t entirely correct. Valentin refrained from directly touching Nerys not because the school’s system was fair, but because of Nellusion’s command.
However, it was true that matters within the court were even more secretive than those at school.
Thus, if Nerys entered the court even as a mere handmaiden, Valentin could get rid of her before her brother ever noticed.
Izet knew a little more about the Valentin siblings compared to others. Even she believed that the reason Nerys did not want to work at the Imperial Palace was because of Valentin.
Soon, Izet, losing interest, spoke with an indifferent expression.
“If you don’t want to, forget it. It was just a suggestion. …You’ve given your greetings, so you may leave.”
At those words, Nerys and Cledwyn each paid their respects to the royal family and withdrew.
Feeling they had moved far enough away from the platform, Nerys asked Cledwyn,
“Was there a marriage discussion between you two?”
No matter how she thought about it, that seemed like the most plausible explanation. Cledwyn raised an eyebrow.
“Why do you think that?”
“She’s usually indifferent to others, but she’s oddly familiar with you, and your statuses match well.”
Cledwyn, who had looked slightly troubled, stiffened at Nerys’s last words. He had been smiling just a moment ago, but now he looked inexplicably serious, causing Nerys to wrinkle her nose.
“Why? I didn’t tell you to marry her. I just asked.”
Cledwyn’s stiff face relaxed back into his usual composure. He stated firmly, as if there was nothing more to be said,
“It wouldn’t suit.”
A match more fitting than the daughter of the Imperial Family and a grand noble hardly existed.
However, for whatever reason, Nerys also didn’t want to think too deeply about it.
So she simply agreed.
“Alright.”
—
After dancing to their hearts’ content, the students gathered at the tables or strolled along the edges of the banquet hall, chatting.
The hottest topic was who would be crowned the king and queen of this ball.
“It’s obviously Megara Lykeandros.”
The participants whispered to one another as they looked at the rankings, magically tallied midway through the event.
Being crowned the king or queen of the ball wasn’t just a frivolous pastime for students. Especially for the graduating class, it was a highly impressive social debut.
An impressive debut meant better marriage prospects, greater influence, and eventually, power for their family.
Some students were displeased that a student not even in the graduating class seemed poised to seize such an honor, but most accepted the situation.
That was how much the beautiful daughter of the marquess had captured everyone’s attention.
The phrase “most accepted it” naturally implied that there were those who did not share the consensus.
Valentin, attending her first ball, stood out with her loudly selected table and a very expensive-looking silver-gray dress, wearing an inscrutable expression.
Like many noble young ladies, she had counted the days until she could attend her graduation ball.
In her room, there was even a small notebook she had kept since childhood, meticulously planning what color dress she would wear, what jewelry she would pair with it, and how many dances she would have.
Since it was written when she was younger, many of the designs were childish, and the outfit she wore today had been improved and made prettier.
In the notebook, titled “Graduation Ball Notebook,” the contents had been revised many times, but the final line had always remained the same.
To be crowned queen of the ball every year.
Anything less was unthinkable. A beautiful face, noble dignity, an excellent family—how could she lose to anyone?
There was no clear standard for selecting the queen of the ball. Any participant could simply vote for the student who stood out the most that night.
But wasn’t that, in itself, a declaration that the “qualities important to a noble” were the true standards?
Valentin knew that many students liked Megara. It was deplorable, but understandable—after all, that arrogant girl was good at feigning modesty.
However, it was outrageous for Megara to stand out the most even in an event Valentin attended.
If anything, if the youngest imperial princess, Izet, were crowned queen, that would be unavoidable. In Valentin’s view, Izet wasn’t particularly beautiful, but all glory naturally belonged to the Imperial Family.
Since direct members of the Imperial Family could not be casually referred to as “queen,” they could not be selected as the king or queen of the ball.
But Megara Lykeandros?
‘Ha.’
A laugh escaped. Valentin arrogantly gestured for a passing attendant to approach.
Seventeen-year-old Valentin was beautifully delicate like a bouquet of forget-me-nots, but to the servants, she was an object of fear.
The attendant, well aware of Valentin’s reputation for always retaliating against servants who displeased her, approached her nervously.
“Bring my maid.”
Fortunately, her cold voice only issued a simple command. The attendant quickly hurried to the servant’s lounge adjacent to the banquet hall and brought Delma, Valentin’s close maid.
Delma, who had been promoted to a personal maid once her lady no longer needed a nanny, and had been employed for life, approached the table reserved by Nellusion specifically for Valentin with a face just as arrogant as her mistress’s.
“Is there anything troubling you, my lady?”
Delma, whose nose was usually held high like any noble lady, melted sweetly before Valentin. Valentin, her face flashing with anger, gestured.
“Lower your head for a moment.”
Valentin’s partner was Eustace Grünehals from the Duke of Grünehals family. Normally uninterested in others’ affairs, he turned his body and began chatting with a boy at the next table when he realized Valentin was trying to have a private word with her maid.
Valentin leaned toward Delma’s ear and whispered something irritably. As Delma listened and nodded, she suddenly seemed to remember something and whispered back.
A moment later, a satisfied smile appeared on Valentin’s face.
—
After dancing to their hearts’ content, the Nerys and Cledwyn pair, and the Diane and Bran pair, gathered around a table to chat.
Perhaps because it was a rare chance to hear about the culture of Maindulante, Diane, despite her awkwardness, eagerly asked questions.
How large the Grand Duchy was, where there were good places to visit, what the family structure was like, how many servants were in the castle, whether the vassals were of old origin.
Though some of the questions seemed sensitive to Nerys, Cledwyn answered them all without the slightest change in expression.
Thanks to this, Nerys learned that Cledwyn truly had no relatives sharing his surname and that, if anything, the Marquess of Tipian was the closest in bloodline.
That in the Grand Castle where he usually stayed, the head maid and the butler each oversaw their respective areas, and from Cledwyn’s expression, it was clear he valued them highly.
And that the Grand Duchy of Maindulante, from barren tundras to hot summer coastlines, small deserts, and vast grasslands, encompassed an incredibly diverse range of environments.
After chatting thoroughly with Cledwyn, Diane looked somehow satisfied. To Nerys, that expression seemed to say, ‘He’s good enough to be my friend’s partner.’
Nerys blushed, feeling embarrassed by her friend’s presumptions, and glared at Diane when Cledwyn wasn’t looking.
As the evening wore on, Nerys began to feel slightly dazed from fatigue.
Normally always perfectly alert in front of others, Nerys could not hide her weariness, and Diane felt a bit guilty. She knew full well that Nerys had barely slept for days preparing for graduation.
Would it be better to leave early? Did she make Nerys come to the party when she should have let her rest?
Diane had wanted to make memories with Nerys, not force her to endure something she disliked.
‘Maybe we should leave soon?’
While Diane was pondering, Nerys ordered an herbal tea known for its refreshing effect and sipped it slowly.
Lowering her golden lashes like the first sunlight of dawn and drinking from her small lips without a sound, she looked elegant but different from her usual flawless demeanor.
If anything, she looked cute. Like a small, fluffy baby bird.
Noticing a senior who had been rejected by Nerys staring blankly at her from afar, Diane narrowed her eyes.
‘You got rejected. Stop staring.’
Sure, she’s pretty. But if you were rejected because you weren’t good enough and she came with someone else, you should focus on your own partner. Being rude to both sides like that—no wonder someone as smart as Nerys turned you down…
Just as Diane was thinking that, the so-called senior’s face suddenly paled.
He quickly turned his head and awkwardly spoke to his partner. The female senior, who seemed to already know her partner wasn’t paying attention, responded indifferently.
As Diane tilted her head and tried to return her gaze to Nerys, her eyes happened to brush past Cledwyn.
‘Just now…’
It looked like he was watching the same thing she was.
Diane’s eyes narrowed slightly. But without showing any sign of it, she asked Nerys sweetly,
“Shall we go vote? Before we forget?”
The voting for the ball’s king and queen was supposed to stay open until quite late, but by now, past the halfway point, the results were likely already decided.
Saying “before we forget” was just an excuse. In reality, Diane meant, “I’m curious to see who’ll be crowned queen.”
Once confirmed, there would be no need to stay for the award ceremony—they could head straight back to the dormitory.
Nerys, who understood Diane’s true meaning, shook her head.
“You go ahead. I’ll go later.”
“Alright.”
Even if one or two votes went to someone else, the winner was already obvious. Diane, understanding this, didn’t press Nerys and rose together with Bran.
Watching Diane walk toward the ballot box, Nerys thought absentmindedly.
There’s no need to even look.
