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~Chapter 58~
“So promise me, Shariette. Promise that you will never again let anyone touch your body carelessly.”
It was the first time she had ever heard such words.
Shariette realized the deep trembling in his eyes was not anger or murderous intent—
but something else.
It was… pain.
Though she couldn’t understand why.
“Promise me. Your body belongs to you.”
A contract or a deal carried binding force.
But a promise did not.
Even so—
Thump. Thump.
Something in her chest felt like it would burst out if she didn’t hold it down.
The whole world around her seemed to rattle and shake.
“This man always says strange things. Every time. Always.”
Words she had never heard before.
Words she had never known before.
Words that had no usefulness to himself.
Words that shook her tightly shut box, again and again.
Even without touching her, it felt like she was trapped, unable to move.
His eyes seemed as if they wouldn’t let her go until she gave him an answer.
Leaves—dozens, hundreds—rustled wildly inside her chest.
Her stomach spun and churned as if filled with endless caffeine.
She called upon the box in her mind, but this feeling couldn’t be cut off or separated like the others.
She didn’t even know what it was, so she couldn’t divide it, couldn’t extract it.
In the end, just to escape the crushing weight, Shariette nodded.
Her lips moved awkwardly as she forced out the words.
“Alright. I promise.”
My body belongs to me.
For some reason, it felt like she had made a vow huge and important—
like a sacred oath.
Only then did Noxian finally relax, smiling faintly.
“For reference—I don’t let promise-breakers go unpunished. I’ll chase them to the end and take back what’s mine.”
“……”
Ah, damn.
“Really now… I’ve never let those who lied to me live.”
Shariette muttered with an exasperated face. She didn’t need him to say it—she already knew.
“Then what about dance practice?”
“If you don’t want to, don’t. You can do anything, but you can also do nothing. It’s your choice.”
So serious just moments ago, and now he changed his stance so easily.
Feeling oddly impatient, Shariette pressed him.
“Then do it. I’ll do it. I already said—I’ll make sure you’re in perfect condition for that day. That means dance practice too, and practice touching.”
Her insistence made Noxian’s face harden, like he was warning her.
“Were you even listening to a single thing I just said?”
“I don’t dislike it. I said I allow it.”
“…That’s exactly the kind of thing you shouldn’t say so easily.”
Back to the start again.
“If I say it’s fine, then why not?”
“…Because people—listening—will misunderstand.”
He looked down at her like his patience was being tested, then finally leaned his head back against the wall.
A low thud sounded, followed by the muffled noise of him swallowing curses.
At last, he muttered in a weary voice:
“…Fine. Then let’s do it your way.”
“If the royal family had more members, there would be even more banquets. Lucky there are only three.”
It would be even better if there were only two.
Shariette let out words that, in another setting, might have gotten her punished for insulting the royal family.
Normally she wouldn’t have spoken that far, but the endless preparations for this banquet had worn her down.
“It’s not exactly like that. His Majesty’s birthday falls during the Founding Festival, so it’s celebrated together.”
Hearing Nixia explain, Shariette thought the King must be a very efficient man.
Though she had never seen him in person.
She remembered when she had first come to Rubellot—the butler had told her stories that made her think the King must really hate Noxian.
When she mentioned this, Nixia burst out laughing.
“See? Outsiders always see things most clearly. Now, look at the mirror.”
Inside the mirror stood a Shariette who sparkled about three and a half times more than usual.
This wasn’t just a metaphor—she literally sparkled.
The jewel-embroidered dress scattered light differently at every angle under the lamps.
Knock knock.
“Come in,” Nixia answered casually.
Normally no one would enter the dressing toilette like this, but there was one person who had been competing for influence these past days.
“Since Nixia stole the dress, the accessories should be mine.”
It was Noxian.
Just the other day, he had argued with his sister—“Why did you choose my partner’s dress?”—to the point Shariette felt stuck in the middle.
In the end, she had brokered peace by agreeing to wear the dress Nixia chose, with the accessories Noxian provided.
“Shariette. Excuse me for a moment.”
“Mm.”
She didn’t need to say yes every single time.
Ever since his “your body belongs to you” speech and that promise, Noxian had stubbornly insisted on asking permission—even before holding her hand.
“Ridiculous. I can’t stand this. Shariette, see you later.”
Nixia gave her brother a look of annoyance, then left the room.
Only then did Noxian smile leisurely and step behind Shariette.
He placed the necklace around her neck.
Their eyes met in the mirror.
He curved his lips smoothly into a smile.
“Are you ready?”
“I just finished the last step.”
She said it confidently, but in truth, she couldn’t completely shake off her nerves.
“Will I be able to escort him properly?”
That was the only thing she worried about—completely different from what Noxian imagined.
Determined, she stood from her seat and clenched her fists tight.
Then, she held out her hand to him.
“…?”
Noxian looked back and forth between her face and her outstretched hand in confusion.
“Why aren’t you taking it?”
“What?”
“Don’t you know what an escort is?”
Seizing her chance, Shariette quickly turned the tables and returned the embarrassment she had once suffered.
“…Pff!”
Noxian burst out laughing. He continued chuckling softly as he clasped her hand, while she stood with serious determination.
“So reliable. I’ll count on you, my physician.”
The royal palace’s central hall, the grand ballroom.
Although it was officially the Crown Prince’s birthday banquet, all eyes were focused elsewhere.
The hum of voices gradually died down.
“Look over there…!”
Gasps and low exclamations rippled across the hall.
The sight of the dark-clad Rubellots gathered together was already enough to make the surroundings tense and uneasy.
“So the curse… it was all nonsense after all.”
Someone muttered in disbelief.
“They said he was attacked by monsters, cursed, all sorts of rumors… but…”
The Young Duke’s appearance today—after years of absence—was anything but cursed.
If anything, it seemed as though he had been blessed by some unknown power.
His complexion shone brighter than the birthday prince himself. How could anyone call this man dying?
And beside him, standing out among the black Rubellot crowd, were two striking figures:
The golden-haired Duchess Marianne… and another.
The white-haired partner, drawing just as much attention.
“House Verdette? Ever heard of them?”
“Not really… She looks so mysterious. I heard she’s a pharmacist.”
That “mysterious person” was barely holding back from staring up in awe at the chandeliers—thousands of dazzling shards of light bursting from above.
And it wasn’t just the chandeliers.
When she looked away from the sparkling crystals, polished gold and silver ornaments blinded her instead.
The ceiling. The floor. The walls. Even the stained-glass windows, and the nobles’ dresses and jewels glittered everywhere.
“Everything sparkles, everywhere…”
Noticing the little crow beside him about to lose herself in excitement, Noxian gripped her hand firmly and pulled.
“Don’t drift off. You said you’d escort me, remember?”
“Ah!” Shariette shook her head quickly, forcing herself back to focus.
She stuck close to him, carefully watching his condition and making sure no one brushed against him—her self-given mission for tonight.
“Patient’s condition: no issues.”
She even eyed the champagne glasses the servers brought around.
If poison was smeared inside, the bubbles wouldn’t rise properly. She tested it too.
“Champagne: safe.”
Then she sampled the finger foods set beside the drinks.
Tasty, and no poison.
“Food: safe!”
