MCFLS 18

Chapter 18.

“Huh?”

Her startled face was quite a sight. It was a mystery how she managed to fire a gun with that small of a liver.

“If anything happens between Mademoiselle Cassinel and me, shoot me.”

“No, Lieutenant. How could I commit insubordination… Of course, I’m not saying I would shoot you.”

“It means that won’t happen.”

Cyril kindly added an explanation while watching his flustered subordinate.

The second lieutenant, cautiously glancing around, muttered, “Isn’t that going too far…?” but Cyril paid no mind.

Now, he and Adrien were friends beyond any doubt. If Adrien asked for help with her love, he might even assist.

Perhaps he would.

Cyril shifted his gaze away from the pistol that had left his hand.

He gave no thought to the future where that gun might be pointed at him.

Hosting a debutante ball was no less than a war.

Noble families with daughters coming of age began preparing for the imperial ball over half a year in advance.

The renowned dress salons in the capital were booked up a year ahead, a testament to the fervor. To stand out even slightly among the many noble ladies required thorough preparation. Not a single detail, from the dress worn that day down to the accessories, could be chosen carelessly.

“Adrien, that looks splendid enough to my eyes.”

The Countess of Blua addressed Adrien, who had just emerged wearing her third dress change. Taking pity on her niece, who had lost her closest guide with her mother’s absence, she had volunteered to act as Adrien’s chaperone.

“Madam, there are still a few more dresses prepared…”

“My dear niece looks fantastic in anything she wears. At least, that’s how it seems to my eyes.”

While the words sounded affectionate at first glance, a closer look revealed otherwise. The Countess of Blua had a daughter the same age as Adrien. This meant she was simultaneously chaperoning two young ladies.

Her own daughter and her niece. It was as plain as day where the Countess’s heart leaned more heavily.

The Countess, who had put her daughter’s name down at famous salons over a year prior, had summoned Adrien to the capital much later. By then, not only the top-tier salons but even moderately well-reviewed designers were fully booked. Since most designers were busy shuttling between appointments, having a new dress made was nearly impossible. In the end, dresses left in the corners of salons—outdated styles or experimental pieces too challenging to easily attempt—were all dragged out.

What lay before them was merely the best they could manage: selecting somewhat usable dresses and having them altered. Blua seemed reluctant to invest even that much time.

“Adrien, what do you think?”

“This is enough for me, Aunt.”

“See? My niece has such excellent taste.”

With a satisfied expression, Blua ordered suitable accessories to be brought for the dress. Even so, it wouldn’t amount to a tenth of what was invested in her own daughter.

The hefty sum Father, Count Cassinel, had handed over to Blua had likely been used for Cousin Mademoiselle Blua.

Though Adrien was aware of this, she quietly agreed with her aunt’s words, largely because she had no great ambitions for the debutante ball. ‘As long as Reed secures a good wife for himself…’

Unlike Adrien, who had her elder brother Reed above her, the Blua family had no children except for their daughter. Their efforts to make their daughter shine, even while keeping their niece in check, stemmed from this poignant reason.

Moreover, unlike the Blua family, Cassinel belonged to the current ten great noble houses. Great nobles typically intermarried among themselves, so there was little need to exert excessive effort for a debutante ball.

The only regret was the blood-money spent from the family coffers, but since finding a chaperone of higher status than Blua was difficult anyway, it was a price they could reluctantly accept.

“By the way, Adriana.”

“Yes?”

While the owner was temporarily away, the Countess of Blua addressed her, using a familiar nickname.

“Sir Cyrill has returned, hasn’t he? Since our Laura is also in the capital, how about arranging a meeting?”

So that’s why she was using nicknames—there was an ulterior motive after all. What did Mademoiselle Blua, that is, Laura being in the capital have to do with Cyrill’s return?

Though Laura’s whining for a bridge between her and Cyrill wasn’t a new occurrence, seeing her mother step in suggested they were growing rather desperate.

“…Well. Cyrill is extremely busy, so I’m not sure. It would be lovely for us all to meet after so long, though.”

“You think so too, don’t you? Of course, he must be busy, but surely not too busy for a meal? You should subtly suggest it. You’ve been close since childhood.”

“If an opportunity arises, I’ll ask him.”

That damn Sir Cyrill.

While grinding her teeth inwardly, Adrien replied with a smile. Cyrill, Cyrill… When would the day come when that name and her life would part ways?

Everyone who saw Adrien brought up Cyrill; by now, she felt like she’d become his spokesperson. ‘Spokesperson, what nonsense.’

Now, it was an overly intimate term for a relationship where they barely even kept in touch. If only they were truly that close…

A soft sigh escaped Adrien’s lips.

Emma, the maid, was from Cassinel and had never left the estate until now, making this her first trip to the capital.

Due to their family’s relative isolation from others and Adrien’s lack of a lady’s maid, Emma had taken on the role of maid as well.

Of course, it wasn’t solely a matter of distance. In truth, during the family’s prosperous days, those seeking to serve Cassinel’s women were abundant.

But now, many years later, Cassinel had no lady’s maid. All the noble ladies volunteering as maids had embarked on their journey to the capital, which was only natural.

Tasks like companionship or dressing had long been handled by maids close to Adrien. So, acting as a lady’s maid now merely meant her range of activities had widened slightly, if that.

“Others are frantic because they can’t do things lavishly enough, but the Countess of Blua went too far. She knows how faithfully the late Madame followed the Countess…”

Upon arriving at the residence, Emma poured out the words she’d been holding back. She seemed more upset than Adrien herself.

“She’s more concerned about Laura than me. What can I do?”

“If the Master knew, he certainly wouldn’t stay quiet.”

“That’s precisely why we must keep quiet, so he does. I have no desire to empty our coffers, existing or not, just to make an entrance.”

Adrien, replying nonchalantly, threw herself onto the bed as soon as she changed. The silk dress left on the chair slithered like a snake’s shed skin.

Adrien’s words seemed reasonable on the surface.

Of course, Cassinel wasn’t a family fallen so far as to worry about immediate ruin. Faded glory was still glory, and by all accounts, they still ranked among the great noble houses.

But whether their lot was as fortunate as the court nobles, their faces slick with oil, frequenting the imperial palace, was another matter.

Count Cassinel had been visiting the palace over the past few years to discuss territorial support issues, but what he received in return were mere formal courtesies.

The Emperor wished to station his own troops on all borders, including Cassinel’s. This was no different from demanding they relinquish lands their family had long protected.

Thus, the confrontation between local nobles, including Cassinel, and the Emperor was intensifying.

Amidst this, Cassinel was still a great noble house. Unable to recklessly provoke them, the Emperor resented all the great nobles who shared power, Cassinel included.

“Still, they say His Highness the Crown Prince will attend this debutante ball. Aren’t you even a little disappointed?”

“What’s there to be disappointed about?”

“What do you mean, ‘what’? He’s sure to take a new fiancée at this debutante ball!”

Emma raised her voice as if incredulous that Adrien could be unaware of such an important matter.

Only then did Adrien recall that over a year had passed since the Crown Prince lost his fiancée. News of the Crown Prince’s fiancée succumbing suddenly to a lung disease had come over a year ago.

Time really flew, she thought anew.

“Didn’t you admire His Highness the Crown Prince?”

“Admire is a strong word…”

Adrien mumbled, her face still buried in the pillow.

It was true she liked the Crown Prince.

Unlike someone, he was very affectionate; unlike someone, he was kind; unlike someone, he didn’t tease Adrien. And unlike someone, she could like him with peace of mind.

That’s why Adrien had liked the Crown Prince. Like a prince from a fairy tale, devoid of any sense of reality.

“Well, I suppose. You were completely smitten with Sir Cyrill. Compared to that, the Crown Prince was just a fleeting moment.”

“Emma, when have I ever been ‘smitten’ with Cyrill?”

Adrien, who had been replying indifferently, suddenly sat bolt upright. Her round, widened eyes held a sense of injustice.

“Oh my? Miss, how many times did you grab me when you were little, saying you’d marry Sir Cyrill?”

“That was because Cyrill was the only person I knew.”

“And what about when you sobbed because Sir Cyrill said, ‘I won’t marry you, Adrien’?”

Emma teased Adrien, acting out the scene vividly as if transported back to that day.

All those embarrassing memories were indeed true, leaving no room for rebuttal.

Sensing defeat, Adrien lay back down on the bed. Emma smiled faintly at the sight of her languid young mistress.

“That was childhood stuff…”

“Of course. I know.”

Even without saying it, Emma knew everything. How much Adrien had liked Cyrill, and even the reasons why she had given up on him. She knew it all.