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Chapter 23
“You look absolutely perfect, Celia.”
Margaret’s voice carried a faint, sentimental tone as she gazed at Celia, who had just finished getting ready. It made sense — if anyone had a reason to feel emotional, it was Margaret.
“…It’s only because you picked everything out so carefully.”
“No, no, I didn’t do much at all.”
Didn’t do much? That was an outrageous understatement — Margaret’s enthusiasm had been downright terrifying.
“Cream looks good on you.”
“……”
“Or maybe navy blue?”
“……”
“I can’t decide, they all look great. Oh! What about this one too?”
Piece by piece, she had combed through every possible outfit for the day until she finally found the perfect ones for Celia.
“I didn’t know you were into clothes,” Celia remarked.
“I’ve got a lot of younger siblings. Helping them pick outfits was kind of my job.”
“So, you think of me like one of your little sisters? I always thought I was the older one.”
“I’m sorry if that sounded bad. It’s just… I’ve always wanted to do this for my sisters — pile up a mountain of clothes and help them choose what fits best. But we could never afford to.”
“How could that offend me?”
Celia felt a pang of guilt. She’d never realized that Margaret had such a simple, heartfelt dream. Come to think of it, she’d brought Margaret to the capital without ever asking what she wanted. Celia had made that decision entirely on her own.
Margaret had thanked her for the opportunity, of course, but deep down she must have been overwhelmed. Celia couldn’t help thinking she’d been a little inconsiderate.
‘Good thing I played along.’
Of course, someone else had been hyping things up even more enthusiastically…
“Indeed! Isn’t this delightful? Lady Margaret’s passion is truly inspiring!”
“Oh, not at all. The young master also has an excellent eye for style.”
“I merely lent a humble opinion! Though I’m pleased to see we share common ground — I often help Fleer choose his clothes, you see. And also—”
Celia, her face slightly flushed, whispered to Julin while watching the overly dramatic Royhan.
“Julian.”
“Yeah?”
“What’s his deal?”
“…Who knows?”
“Don’t dodge the question. That guy—”
She didn’t finish the sentence, but the meaning was clear: He’s hitting on Margaret, isn’t he?
Julian chuckled awkwardly. “Looks that way.”
“Hmph.”
Royhan was a member of the Diamand family — not the heir, but still a nobleman from a powerful house. Not a terrible match on paper, perhaps… but still.
Julian seemed to read her hesitation and frowned. Celia lowered her voice.
“If Margaret actually likes him, I can’t say anything… but what do you think?”
“Honestly? It’d be better to keep him away from her now.”
“That bad?”
“You agree with me, don’t you?”
“……”
“Margaret’s a free citizen.”
A commoner with no title or position. Royhan, on the other hand, was a noble, even if not the heir.
‘If that guy ever changes his mind… Margaret would be the one hurt.’
Something about that thought irritated Celia.
Julian whispered, “I hate to say it, but I doubt this’ll end well.”
That probably came from his own background. He’d mentioned being born out of wedlock — likely to a commoner mother. The family hadn’t treated him kindly, from what Celia knew.
Seeing Royhan and Margaret together must have struck a nerve. Considering that, Celia nodded.
“I know. Risk always falls on the ones with no choice.”
“It’s not a small risk. It could get… bad.”
Julian’s tone darkened, his expression uncharacteristically somber — probably thinking of his mother. Celia, used to his usual cheeky grin, found the change disarming. She looked at him with quiet sympathy.
He noticed and forced a casual smile. “Anyway, we’ll see how things go. But I’ll make sure to keep him in check.”
“Good. Can I count on you? I’ll help too, but there’s only so much I can do.”
“Of course.”
Julian raised an arm with a sigh. The cufflinks Celia had given him gleamed on his sleeve.
“They look good on you,” she said lightly.
“Thanks. You’ve got a surprisingly good eye.”
“Surprisingly?”
“I’m kidding.”
When she’d given Margaret a pair of glasses, though, that had been a much more emotional scene. Margaret had teared up, saying she’d rarely ever received gifts because of her poor upbringing. Celia saw a lot of herself in that, and it made her care for Margaret even more.
Maybe that was why Royhan rubbed her the wrong way.
Julian smiled faintly. “Anyway, don’t forget what I told you.”
“Of course not.”
He must have been referring to their earlier talk — that someone from the Heinz family might attend the presentation. Celia hadn’t forgotten; that was, after all, her real goal.
‘All this trouble… for that one reason.’
“You’re all ready, I see.”
Fleer Diamand, impeccably dressed as the heir of his house, entered the room. His hair was slicked neatly back, exposing a sharp, confident forehead. The tailored formalwear fit perfectly on his athletic frame — and at first glance, Celia could tell.
‘A perfect target.’
The noble families at the presentation would all be eyeing him for engagement prospects, just like during their last public outing.
“You all look wonderful,” Fleer said warmly.
“We’re the sponsored party, so we matched our colors to the Diamand family’s theme.”
“My mother will be pleased. She couldn’t attend due to her schedule, unfortunately.”
All three wore cream-colored outfits with emerald embroidery — the Diamand family’s signature color. Julian’s formalwear included an emerald vest, Margaret wore a long emerald skirt with a puff-sleeved cream top, and Celia had on a dress with a voluminous skirt and intricate embroidery along the hem — emerald threads that shimmered in the light. Her vivid red hair was styled with extra volume, making her even more striking.
“I’m ready. Let’s go,” Celia said.
Fleer extended a hand. Celia took it — moving was difficult in her dress anyway, and there were reasons she’d chosen such a restrictive outfit.
“Thank you,” she said softly.
She’d gotten used to his constant offers of escorting her; it had felt awkward at first, but repetition dulls discomfort.
They walked toward the front gate, where the carriage awaited. Just as they were about to board, Celia’s sharp voice cut through.
“Lord Royhan — and why are you coming along?”
Translation: What business do you have here?
“I—I’m also a student at the academy.”
“The Royal one?”
“…Ahaim.”
A bold answer, to say the least. Julian rolled his eyes beside her.
“There’s a limit to how many people each family can send, you know. What makes you think you can just tag along?”
From the side, Carla — who had come to see them off — sighed, looking unimpressed. “Honestly, little brother…”
Royhan shot back, “It’s fine! I won’t go inside the presentation hall anyway, right?”
“……”
‘That one’s not sitting next to Margaret in the carriage,’ Celia thought grimly.
With that silent vow, the group’s carriage soon arrived at the hall.
* * *
The presentation was being held at the Royal Hall, one of the capital’s grandest venues, managed directly by the crown.
Their carriage stopped at the entrance, dropping them off amid a crowd buzzing with chatter and excitement.
“There are as many people as at the formal entrance ceremony,” Fleer noted, chatting politely with other nobles. Royhan, watching the scene, muttered,
“Quite impressive, isn’t it? Not a place for the faint of heart.”
“Funny thing to say for someone from Ahaim,” Celia remarked.
“Ahaim is quite prestigious too, I’ll have you know.”
“I’m sure.”
Ahaim only accepted nobles — never commoners — so it would be embarrassing not to look distinguished. Royhan turned to Margaret with a smile.
“Too bad I can’t join you inside, but if you get bored, I’ll be right out here waiting.”
“…For hours?”
“Of course! I’ve got other things to do, anyway.”
He waved a hand and leaned toward Celia, whispering,
“You know — servant duties.”
“Ah. Of course.”
Whether anyone could actually get bored inside was doubtful, but Celia ignored him and scanned the crowd. The people gathered here were far from ordinary.
‘Quite the impressive lineup,’ she thought.
“Shall we go in?”
“Let’s.”
Celia smiled faintly.
‘It doesn’t matter.’
Her target was already decided — the Heinz family. Everything else was secondary.
As she stepped through the grand entrance, she immediately felt the weight of countless eyes fall upon her.
