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Chapter 24
Asil sat down in the chair and leisurely lifted his chin.
“Please take the measurement.”
It was the generosity born of confidence.
But at the same time, he voiced his doubt.
“But if you only measure my shoulders, it’ll be hard to compare, won’t it?”
“Don’t worry. I’ve already secured the control group’s measurements.”
“…”
Had she prepared even the Minister of State’s shoulder width in case he refused?
Asil was dumbfounded and speechless.
“But what if my shoulders turn out to be broader?”
“Then you’ll be someone with broader shoulders than the Minister of State.”
‘…Well, obviously.’
He couldn’t tell whether she was joking or being serious. Asil let out a half-laugh, then suddenly froze.
The sight of Lianel approaching with the measuring tape.
The moment she lowered her head and placed her hand on his shoulder.
Even the motion of brushing off her hands as if the task was finished and straightening up.
Every bit of it—
‘It feels like my teacher is approaching.’
As her expressionless face withdrew from him, Asil felt a pang of regret and swallowed dryly without realizing it.
If he didn’t get a grip, he felt like he might reach out impulsively.
“…So, what’s the result?”
“Director, you are 0.7cm wider. Congratulations.”
‘Is that something to celebrate?’
Absurd as it was, a strange curiosity arose.
“Will there at least be a trophy ceremony?”
For being the person with the broadest shoulders in the Empire?
“That’s impossible. I merely satisfied my personal curiosity. With only two samples measured, I can’t determine where your shoulder width ranks in the Empire.”
She had merely confirmed that he was broader than the Minister of State, the control group.
Logically sound, airtight reasoning on the surface.
‘But it’s still nonsense.’
Asil saw straight through her.
Speaking complete nonsense with a serious face—this had been his teacher’s specialty.
“Haha….”
It was funny.
But also, oddly, sad.
Because she wasn’t his teacher, and he would never meet that person again.
Asil felt his eyes sting but forced himself to hold it back.
This wasn’t the time to suddenly turn into a tragic backstory man.
Above all, there was an important matter he had to settle before the ball.
“Strictly speaking, as your partner, I should visit your residence to escort you, but…”
Lianel’s shoulders stiffened.
The tiny room she lived in had walls so thin she practically shared breathing sounds with her neighbors.
Even the passage leading to her place was so narrow that if one person walked through, someone coming from the opposite direction had to step aside.
A place where even a horse, let alone a carriage, would struggle to enter.
Asil smiled softly.
“You wouldn’t want to reveal your home address to your superior, would you?”
He quickly scribbled an address onto a slip of paper.
A third location—neither his residence nor hers.
“We’ll meet here.”
Lianel carefully accepted the paper and curled it in her palm.
“Thank you for the consideration.”
And time passed—
The day of the ball arrived.
The place Asil had written down was the fountain plaza not far from Lianel’s home.
It was considerate of her lack of transportation—she only had her two legs—and also a common meeting spot, lowering any anxiety she might have.
“Have you been waiting long?”
He had barely stood there a moment when a carriage rolled up and its door opened.
Lianel placed her hand cautiously onto Asil’s palm—and then abruptly lifted her gaze.
She had first seen Asil when he was ten years old.
Back then, Asil, having lost his parents, resented the world.
The child who swore he would never go back home again—Lianel washed him, fed him, and let him sleep.
But she had been living off a meager assistant professor salary at the time, scraping by.
She had no choice but to borrow leftover academy uniforms and put them on Asil.
Maybe because he grew up in that environment—
Even after becoming a teaching assistant and no longer needing uniforms, Asil showed no interest in luxury or in adorning himself.
As director, he was no different.
His outfits were always neat, but far from extravagant.
So Lianel hadn’t expected much.
“…Is something wrong?”
But today’s Asil was truly different.
His navy ceremonial attire was tailored to fit him perfectly, emphasizing his broad shoulders and tall frame.
Gold embroidery traced along the shoulders and sleeves, wrapping the outfit flawlessly. Even the high-quality buttons and the pleated shirt peeking from inside the jacket added harmony, creating a near-artistic sophistication.
One could even call it excessive.
Yet it suited him extremely well.
Lianel felt a tightness in her chest—mixed pride and emotion.
‘My goodness.’
Whose disciple grew up looking this striking?
She stared at him for quite a while before—
“Do I look strange?”
Asil’s focused gaze snapped her out of her daze.
“No, it’s not that…”
She hurried to deny it and finally voiced what she needed to say.
“It suits you exceptionally well.”
“Does it?”
Asil listened intently.
Knowing that he wanted more praise, Lianel quickly gave him the kind he’d like.
“Yes. The attire highlights your broad shoulders extremely well.”
She had tried to indulge his shoulder pride, but Asil felt a bit deflated.
‘After all the effort I put into dressing up, why is she talking about my shoulders again?’
Still—he didn’t dislike even this odd part of her.
Maybe because he knew she was clumsily trying to compliment him.
Or because Lianel herself, wearing a party dress instead of her plain indoor gown and looking slightly awkward in it, was beautiful.
‘Her slight lack of social instinct is also just like Teacher…’
No—he shouldn’t keep searching for his teacher’s shadow in someone else.
“Shall we go?”
Asil offered his hand.
The Special Tax Bureau staff would be waiting.
Asil attended the imperial ball every year, but he never stayed long.
He was there only because he was a bureau chief and a noble of the Empire.
Above all—the Emperor was present.
The man who never showed up to council meetings.
The man who killed his teacher.
People didn’t know why Asil disliked the ball, only that he always left early.
“He’ll come alone again, right?”
“And he won’t stay long.”
The only place Asil ever seemed attached to was the Special Tax Bureau he directed.
Everyone assumed he would chat briefly with his bureau staff and then leave as always.
“It’s not like we can sneak into their conversation…”
Interrupting a conversation between Asil and his bureau staff was a severe breach of etiquette.
And Asil, perhaps due to his national academy upbringing, particularly disliked rude behavior.
In the vast social world filled with big personalities, anyone difficult to approach was usually avoided—but Asil was the exception.
‘Well, he is the Novantium Duke!’
A man worth befriending.
Owner of gold mines equal to half the western province.
Wealth rivaling the Emperor, and authority in the west equivalent to a king.
Yet he had never once used that wealth to covet anything beyond the west—a noble beast.
And with his Special Tax Bureau rising to prominence, his value had only soared.
“What else can we do? We’ll all have to swoop in the moment he enters.”
“There’s no other way.”
The social sharks desperate for connections waited with stretched necks for the duke to appear—
‘…What?’
‘Is that… by the duke’s side…?’
But when Asil unexpectedly entered with a partner, they lost their perfect timing.
And the partner stood out strikingly.
The woman’s black hair was neatly pinned at the nape, loose side strands framing her face in effortless elegance.
Her white dress, cinched with a golden belt, bore minimal decoration, yet the layers of tulle blooming from her waist swayed softly like spring sunlight.
And she held the hand of Asil, whose attire resembled a star-dusted night sky.
Their clothes contrasted—day and night—yet harmonized beautifully.
People stared for a long moment, then finally recognized her and gasped.
“That woman is Lady Vinzenheim?!”
The unfashionable girl who used to wear garish, jewel-covered, brightly colored dresses?
“So they say. The image is so different I almost didn’t recognize her…”
“Looking at her features, it’s definitely her. Good heavens…”
Compared to last year, she was far more understated.
A look that seemed ‘casually’ done—yet everyone knew this effortless aesthetic was much harder to pull off.
“She could look like that, so why did she dress the way she did last year?”
“No idea. More importantly, what connection does she have with the Novantium Duke to walk in with him?”
“You didn’t hear? The Special Tax Bureau’s recent recognition is entirely thanks to Lady Vinzenheim.”
“Ah—so this is a gesture of commendation?”
“Perhaps.”
And as they whispered—
“With all this attention, she’s practically tonight’s star.”
It was a shared conclusion.
Only because the actual birthday celebrant—the Emperor—was absent.
Meanwhile, Banesha—who had begged Royhelm to let her attend after being kicked out of the ducal house—
‘How could someone like Lianel be wearing a dress from Madame Sillon…?!’
Furious with jealousy, she fell back into her old habit of biting her nails.
