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The imperial ball marked the beginning of the official social season for the nobles of Ludenheim. The society gazettes—indispensable reading during this period—were filled daily with stories of young ladies who had gathered in the capital for their debutante balls. Families with daughters turning eighteen were already busy introducing them to prominent ladies, laying the groundwork for the most anticipated event of the season: the debutante presentations.
Among these young ladies, the one attracting the most attention was undoubtedly Retina Cecílika, the hidden illegitimate daughter of House Deneuve.
“This is the best-selling gazette in Reblem, huh.”
Spending a rare quiet day at the mansion, Retina casually took the gazette from a maid sorting through the mail. Leaning lightly against a table, she let out a nasal hum.
“I didn’t think my brothers, flighty as they are below the waist, would be interested in this kind of gossip.”
“F-flighty below the waist… Miss, the young masters read the gazette every day not because of gossip, but to make sure they don’t miss any information. In social circles, information is like enemy intelligence on the battlefield.”
A battlefield, huh. Retina mulled over the maid’s words and nodded. She had a point. From the few parties Retina had attended, she’d learned that a ballroom was nothing less than a warzone—just without swords.
Whenever three or more nobles gathered, conversations immediately turned to who wore what, who spoke with whom, for how long, and how they behaved. If you wanted to avoid unpleasant rumors being printed in the gazette’s weekly society pages, you had to stay constantly alert. It truly was like a battlefield—you could never let your guard down.
“I wonder if my brothers are mentioned, too?”
She had only recently started tagging along to parties, but she couldn’t help her curiosity. While other young ladies traded rumors amongst themselves, Retina, who had no friends, only ever picked up information through overhearing her brothers.
They’ll probably call them womanizers again. If I find it, I’m teasing them with it until dinner.
She had witnessed enough incidents to imagine exactly what might be written. With a smirk, Retina unfolded the gazette.
Inside were reports on various parties—including those Retina had not attended—filled with tidbits about small scandals and romantic entanglements. Besides gossip, there were sections on “Best Salons” chosen by noble ladies and the latest fashion trends. The mysterious “lady of the Crown Prince” had been a hot topic last week; this time, there was only a single line saying she hadn’t yet been identified.
“Good. Keep looking.”
They would never find her. No one would imagine that woman was her.
[“The Sensational Newcomer Like a Comet: Retina Cecílika — Who Is She?”]
Retina’s eyes froze on a bold headline on the third page.
What the…?
Her throat tightened. There were so many things she preferred to keep hidden that she couldn’t even begin to guess why her name had appeared in print. She nervously shifted her gaze downward.
“With plain hair, a plain face, and plain manners, yet backed by an extraordinary lineage, she monopolized Reblem’s top atelier. A scheming woman who bewitched not only the Crown Prince but even the Prince of Raglas!”
“What kind of ridiculous nonsense is this!?” Retina shouted, stiffening as she read.
The article, impossible to tell if it was praise or insult, dissected her recent actions, framing her as a calculating newcomer who had been sharpening her blade before entering society.
“Fearing the lack of suitors due to her late debut, she cleverly used the Deneuve brothers to raise her fame, then went so far as to involve the Crown Prince to seize the Crystal Gate. Her ambition is nothing short of astonishing. One example is her recent appearance at the salon Berrymax Elegance on Reblem Street…”
Whoever wrote this clearly has it out for me.
The further she read, the more distorted her face became. The anonymous source for the story was obviously Misha. Stripped of all context and padded with biased speculation, the article twisted events into something entirely untrue.
“Lady Retina wore this season’s masterpiece from Ponparian at the imperial ball. As expected, a lady of perfect taste chose my dress. I merely made small adjustments to fit her flawless figure,” said Ponparian, half boasting, half giddy.
“Lady Retina is my greatest muse and client. I’m currently designing an unprecedented gown for her debutante ball.”
Oh really? I became your muse without even knowing it?
Ponparian’s singsong voice buzzed in her ears. He was clearly thrilled.
Retina clutched her head. She’d hoped to quietly stay in the capital, but before she even made her debut, she had taken up an entire page of the gazette.
“My lady…”
“Lina. This won’t do. I’ll just keep my head down from now on.”
“My lady, people underestimate you, but I’ve always believed in you! You’ve just avoided society because it’s bothersome, right?”
Her maid Lina, who had come up behind her to read along, gazed up at Retina with sparkling eyes.
“…Huh?”
“You pretend not to care, but you’ve planned everything perfectly for your debutante ball, haven’t you? If my lady takes matters into her own hands, then as your maid, I’ll burn myself out to make sure you shine brighter than any other young lady! Trust me!”
“You really don’t need to get fired up about this. Calm down. I’m fine.”
“Our first goal is clearly to become the Crystal Gate debutante! If Ponparian’s making the most spectacular dress, we can’t lose. We need to go to Reblem Street immediately and pick out jewels!”
Lina, ignoring Retina’s protests, clenched her fists in determination.
“I said I’m fine!”
But Lina, fired up and resolute, didn’t hear her. She rushed off to discuss jewel choices for the gown, leaving Retina alone in the reception room.
Lina… what about me?!
Retina’s hand grasped at empty air as Lina vanished. Though the mansion had plenty of servants, no one spoke to Retina unless absolutely necessary. Perhaps they disliked her silver hair.
“Haah… what a headache.”
She folded the gazette and set it on the table. No matter how she looked at it, all this attention came down to one thing: her name. Even without bearing the Deneuve surname, it followed her. If she had used the family name, the attention would have been even worse.
Commoners who married nobles couldn’t pass the noble name to their spouses, but their children could sometimes choose. Yet her mother had refused to give her father’s surname. As a child, Retina hadn’t understood. Now, she chose to follow her mother’s name by her own will.
Even if she couldn’t fully grasp her mother’s pain, with age she had come to see things from her perspective. So many things she’d taken for granted were made possible by others’ efforts.
It’d be better to return home than stay in the capital.
Even if she had a flawless debut and made a name for herself, she’d never truly fit in here. She couldn’t wear wigs forever, nor live a life built on deception.
One cursed child is enough—me.
She didn’t want her own child to suffer as she had. There was no guarantee the child wouldn’t inherit her hair.
In the North, this hair color is said to be a goddess’s blessing. Maybe I should just run off there.
She chuckled, recalling her conversation with the prince. It was ironic—what was cursed in Ludenheim was blessed in Raglas.
Retina toyed with a strand of her long, white hair. The servants back in her homeland had always said her hair looked like rare Eastern snow, beautiful and pure. But no matter how much she tried to suppress the gossip in the capital, whispers always found their way out.
Still, I should be grateful nothing’s leaked so far.
Well-paid jobs were rare, so the staff kept quiet. Thinking of them made her unexpectedly homesick.
“My lady, an invitation has arrived.”
Just as she was lost in nostalgia, the butler approached, impeccably dressed. He handed her a luxurious ivory envelope sealed with red wax.
“A tea party?”
Inside was a brief note inviting her to the Grand Duchess’s annual tea party.
“Every year around this time, Her Grace hosts this event. Those invited are either already the talk of the season or considered influential by the Grand Duchess.”
“I’ll go if my brothers are attending.”
“Only unmarried ladies over the age of twenty are allowed. And the invitation is addressed specifically to you, Miss Retina Cecílika—not to House Deneuve.”
Retina flipped the envelope and saw her own name written clearly.
“Her Grace will be your chaperone for the debutante ball, so it would be wise to at least make an appearance.”
