HSLF 16

Chapter 16

Lexa, who said she would “just wash her face and be right back,” only reappeared much later. Did she wash her face with cosmetics or something?
Still, considering how long it took, she’d clearly gone through a full transformation.

The Lexa who had looked as scruffy as a stray dog on the plains had been reborn as a pure, wistful-looking young lady. Her rosy cheeks and sparkling eyes made her look like a young noblewoman making her debut. Just looking at her now, you’d never believe she was someone who’d been partying wildly at a different gathering until dawn that very morning. Dorothy shook her head.

Anyone could like parties—Dorothy included. But liking something didn’t mean you could do it nonstop.
Dorothy liked parties, but she didn’t go to one every single day. Liking something and doing it consistently were two different matters. Lexa, on the other hand, was blessed with a constitution that let her indulge freely in what she loved.

“Are you really going dressed like that?”
“Why not? I’m always amazing, cute, and perfect.”

Lexa scrunched up her nose as if she’d just smelled spoiled fish. When Dorothy stared at her blankly, wondering what was wrong, Lexa abruptly turned her head away.

“Forget it. Let’s just hurry up and go.”
“But where are we going?”
“It’s this hot new place that’s been getting popular lately. You’ll know when we get there. I barely managed to get an invitation this time. Even the Duke would want to come.”

Lexa said it confidently. A hot new place, huh.

“A place the Duke of Cameon wants to come to? That wasn’t mentioned when I read the paper this morning.”

The Cameon Duke Daily, which Dorothy subscribed to every day in order to pine after the Duke of Cameon, had filled her mailbox while she was away in the Serin region. She’d read it out of habit while eating breakfast.

Even while Dorothy was nearly dying, the Duke of Cameon had gone to work peacefully—and hadn’t gone home afterward.

Relentless, really. Sometimes the Duke would pull all-nighters for days and simply not leave work.
Was it because he was a workaholic that work piled up every day, or did work pile up every day so he became a workaholic? Dorothy couldn’t tell. She didn’t particularly want to know either.

Anyway, during the days Dorothy was gone, the Duke had been working overtime, and naturally hadn’t gone to any parties. Even normally, if it wasn’t work-related, the Duke of Cameon didn’t go out much. Someone like that, at a trendy new party?

“Dorothy!”

Startled, she looked up. Lexa was giggling.

“So you’re finally feeling like kissing the Duke! Good thinking.”
“What are you talking about? I said I won’t do that.”
“Then why do you care whether the Duke is there or not?”
“I won’t kiss him, but actually getting involved with him directly sounds like a good idea.”

Dorothy said it gloomily.

“Before the rumors spread through the capital, I should try everything I can.”

She hated the idea of confronting the Duke directly—it was embarrassing—but she couldn’t think of any other plan.

“I was thinking of shoulder-checking him.”
She couldn’t kiss him, but a shoulder bump might be okay. Pretend to be leaving the party, sprint at full speed, and—purely by accident!—accidentally crash into the Duke’s shoulder. Dorothy was completely serious.

“Ghk—khk.”

Huh? What was that noise?

“Lexa?”
Lexa was bent over, groaning. When Dorothy called her name, Lexa was clutching her stomach, her face lit up with way too much joy. Had she almost suffocated trying to hold in laughter by herself?

When Dorothy stared at her in disbelief, Lexa burst out laughing.

“A shoulder check! On the Duke of Cameon! Dorothy, you’re seriously the best!”

And you’re seriously the worst friend. Dorothy shot Lexa a cold look.

“Don’t worry. It’s not a lie that the Duke might want to come to today’s party.”
“?”
“You’ll see when we get there.”
“A masquerade ball?”

Lexa handed Dorothy a half-mask decorated with extravagant feathers. Judging by the fine white gemstones embedded in it, it looked like something she’d ordered in advance.

“Count Rollo’s been bringing it back into fashion.”
As she explained, Lexa put on a sky-blue mask.

“I don’t think this will really hide our identities.”
Since the mask only covered the eyes, it was still easy to recognize people. Did Lexa really think she’d be unrecognizable just because she wore a mask? One look at her mouth and you could tell it was Lexa, barely containing her laughter.

Even aside from Lexa, the kind of people who attended parties in the capital were all pretty similar. Look closely enough and you’d figure it out. While Dorothy put on her white mask, Lexa continued explaining.

“That’s the key point of this trend. Apparently, Count Rollo’s son declared that he’d never marry a woman chosen by his parents.”
“Why?”
“He says he has this romantic ideal—meeting naturally and falling in love.”
“So he’s playing pretend by covering his eyes?”
“Pretty much. That’s how it started, and as it caught on, they began holding masquerade balls. Very secretively. I told you, it wasn’t easy to get this invitation.”

Dorothy frowned.

“What’s different about inviting people secretly when everyone already knows each other?”
“It is different.”

Lexa suddenly lowered her voice.

“There are drug dealers at this party.”
“…What?”

Drug dealers? As Dorothy blinked, Lexa repeated casually,

“You know, the kind who sell potions that supposedly let you see things far away.”

“What?! Drugs—mmph!”

Lexa firmly clamped both hands over Dorothy’s mouth. She could never stop her own laughter, but she was incredibly thorough at silencing others. For a moment, Dorothy thought she was being kidnapped. When she stayed still to show she’d be quiet, Lexa laughed and released her hands.

“So? Doesn’t that sound like the kind of place where the Duke of Cameon might show up, looking for work?”

Dorothy retorted sharply.

“You’re always telling me not to get involved with druggies. Shouldn’t we report this?”
“There are exceptions. The report’s probably already been filed. That’s why I said the Duke might appear.”
“Still…”
“And anyway, most people here don’t know. They’ll just think it’s a slightly unusual party.”

Lexa warned her.

“Of course, you still need to be careful. If a stranger approaches you, just greet them politely like always, then slip away.”
“When have I ever done that?”

Then Dorothy suddenly got curious.

“But how do you know about this?”
Lexa asked in a syrupy voice.

“Oooh, curious? Want me to tell you? Of course, not for free.”
Dorothy shook her head firmly. When Lexa said she couldn’t tell her “for free,” it meant Dorothy would have to do something embarrassing enough to be teased about until her death.

Well, it wasn’t that strange for Lexa to know odd things. She always had. Ever since childhood, she’d known a lot—though not the prestigious information everyone wanted, but rather strange trivia no one really cared about. Like how to tell male and female pill bugs apart, things like that…

“Not curious. Let’s just go inside already.”
“Alright. Let’s enjoy ourselves, then.”

Lexa strode cheerfully toward the party hall, and Dorothy scurried after her. It wasn’t far. After just a few steps, they saw attendants checking invitations. The attendants all wore black masks that covered their entire faces.

Black cloth draped ominously around the entrance… This felt less “secretive” and more “conspicuous.” As Dorothy was thinking that, the attendants finished checking the invitations and opened the doors.

Inside, a black chandelier caught her eye. The chandelier, hung with large crystals, was undoubtedly luxurious, but the color gave it an unusual atmosphere.
There were deliberately partitioned areas designed to be dim and shadowy. Was that all to facilitate drug dealing?

If she hadn’t known anything, she might have thought it was just a concept. But knowing what she knew, it felt unsettling.

“So? What do you think?”
“It’s nice.”

Dorothy nodded slightly. It had a strange, secretive atmosphere, but the music and overall vibe were good. Grand, yet with a perfect beat.

“Right? Totally worth the trouble of getting an invitation.”
Lexa, her hair braided neatly to one side, giggled in her familiar way.

She quietly swept her gaze around the hall, then murmured,

“He looks good.”
There was distance, and half his face was hidden by a mask—how could she even tell? The way Lexa licked her lips made her look like a viper eyeing its prey.

“Fine. Go ahead.”
“Dorothy, you dance your heart out too.”
Lexa said goodbye as if she’d been planning to leave anyway.

“And make sure you shoulder-check the Duke.”
“I’ll handle it.”

Lexa drifted away lightly, and Dorothy silently offered a moment of prayer for the poor man who had caught Lexa’s interest. Then she resolved to enjoy this dangerous party, no matter what happened.

Even if she died later, while she was alive, she would live like she was alive—eating good food and doing what she liked. That was Dorothy’s privilege, one even Marchioness Moven couldn’t take away.

Dorothy rolled her neck combatively and stretched her elbows. She finished her brief preparations and took a long, deep breath.

Then someone called out to her.

“Dorothy Sailor?”

You go through the trouble of wearing a mask, and they call your full name right away?

“Wow! Fancy meeting you again in a place like this!”

Dorothy turned toward the voice. A man wearing a blue mask—probably a young man. He was quite tall, with blond hair faintly visible above the mask. She’d thought masks would still allow her to roughly identify people, but she had no idea who this was.

“?”
The young man in the blue mask looked excited—so happy he might’ve wagged his tail if he’d had one.

“It’s a pleasure to see you again.”
Again? Had they met before?

“I heard you visited our estate last time, but I missed you. You have no idea how disappointed I was.”
I visited? And we’re close enough for that? If so, she should remember him—but she had no clue.

“Excuse me, but your name is…?”
“What? Have you forgotten me? I’m hurt, Lady Dorothy.”
The way he spoke sounded oddly familiar.

“It’s me. Me! Norobin!”

…Who?

“Norobin Moven. Don’t you remember?”

The broad smile beneath the blue mask felt like it was drilling into Dorothy’s head. A sudden headache bloomed out of nowhere. She tried to press her forehead, but the hard mask got in the way.

Nothing ever goes the way I want!

“What’s wrong? Are you alright, Lady Dorothy?”
Despite Norobin Moven’s worried question, Dorothy couldn’t answer.

She was busy.

Busy pulling her mask tighter, clamping her lips shut, and silently roaring in fury.

…Why are you here?! Norobin Moven, you unfilial, insane bastard!