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Chapter : 19
A Dance Invitation
Pure white.
Alferil, who held no memory of him, quietly closed her mouth. Beneath the shade cast by the young master’s hand, there was a pleasant scent.
The late Grand Duke had liked dressing her either in pure white or pitch black. Her pale skin that suited white, and her hair that flowed as though it had always been one with a black dress, only further accentuated her beauty.
No matter how openly accepted the custom was, there were those who frowned at the Duke of Heron himself dragging around a serf without a shred of decorum—but even they would occasionally lose themselves at the sight of a fully adorned Alferil.
That was why it was nearly impossible for Terrenzio to remember the exact date he had first met her. Alferil soon let out a self-mocking smile. The man’s hand was still silently holding its place.
So should she explain, at least? To this man who had recently lost his father—
Should she tell him that she had lived her whole life treated like little more than his father’s kept woman, that he had always liked dressing her in white? Her rounded forehead lifted slightly and brushed against Terrenzio’s hand.
It was her own way of hiding eyes that had quickly reddened.
It was cruel. At the moment when the emotions she had killed off her entire life should have been at their quietest, her heart kept surging restlessly, leaving her at a loss. Your shallow kindness torments me. As she silently loosened her locked voice, she asked,
“Was that when you first met me?”
For some reason, he swallowed his words without answering. Alferil, eyes closed, spoke as she rested the man’s hand against her forehead like a patient being tended. Rather than cooling, the heat on her right side felt as though it were growing even hotter.
“Why did I foolishly forget everything?”
“You didn’t do anything wrong.”
Before, and now. The deep, weighty voice that followed burrowed into her skin. It was a voice that pierced to the bone. Alferil couldn’t believe that, in any sense, she had lived on having lost someone like him.
Before long, she buried her small face into Terrenzio’s nearby hand. The hand that had inadvertently become a shield for her stiffened for a moment, then, sensing the moisture on her cheek, gently stroked her forehead.
What finally separated their lingering warmth was an “ah” that escaped her lips. She suddenly sprang up and headed for the desk, her steps awkward, as if creaking.
Soon, a thick volume was cradled in Alferil’s arms.
Anyone with a keen eye would immediately see it wasn’t an ordinary book. It was a provisional score collection—thick covers stripped from somewhere and rebound like a hardback.
Terrenzio’s half-narrowed eyes moved back and forth between Alferil and the book.
The amount she had worked through sleepless nights had grown to seventeen pages—well past ten. Every page was neatly arranged, flawless. Terrenzio asked, a slightly crooked yet strangely gentle smile on his face,
“Was your question about how the emperors of the two countries know about that matter?”
“No. Well, I do want to know that too, but…”
Alferil lowered her gaze and fell silent as if thinking it over. The man waited quietly. His freely tousled red hair fell over his forehead, giving him the languid air of a relaxed afternoon.
Broad shoulders sloping downward, sturdy arms, and fingers extended with a clear bone structure drew the eye. Alferil’s slender eyelids closed, then opened again hazily.
Leaving behind the initial impulse she’d had to take that hand when they first met, she now knew how much warm reassurance each joint of those fingers offered.
And so—was it greed to want to take one step further? When she wasn’t even sure she could withdraw in time.
“I became curious about you, young master, more than anything else.”
I want to know you. As their gazes met, their hearts overlapped as well. Terrenzio took Alferil’s hand in his. Rising slowly from his chair, he kept hold of the back of her hand and bent slightly at the waist.
Startled, Alferil reflexively stepped back, but as if caught on something, she couldn’t move an inch. In the end, her arm, left behind, was lifted as the man held onto it.
She knew this posture. It was a request for a dance—something you might occasionally see in a corner of a ballroom.
When Alferil began to laugh at the theatrical motion, Terrenzio briefly frowned as if displeased, then soon smiled along with her. A faint breath brushed the back of her hand before being completely swallowed.
“The last day of December. In the new year,”
At his solemn voice, the lingering humor vanished entirely. She could read the shape of lips pressed to the back of her hand. As she feared her pounding pulse might travel up to him, a slightly blurred pronunciation rang out.
“Will you give me some of your time?”
Alferil spoke up, awkwardly breaking the atmosphere. If agreeing to that proposal was necessary to get to know the young master, then it sounded like one of those wandering ghost stories. What—do you want me to eat you?
They exchanged jokes so absurd they made laughter spill out on its own, when suddenly her gaze shifted to the young master’s desk. The corner that had been piled with invitations was now empty. Despite having spent the entire day with her, how he’d cleared them away without her noticing was a mystery.
Soon, Alferil realized what the crackling firewood in the fireplace truly was and stared at him. The young master awkwardly averted the eyes that had been on her.
“It won’t be the kind of banquet you’re imagining.”
“Then that’s even better.”
“It might be shabby and unimpressive.”
“But the young master beside me won’t be, will you?”
And with that exchange—hearts facing one another—the conversation ended, and time flew by like an arrow. As usual, she copied scores, and by the time she could play a solo piece for about a minute without guidance, the day before the New Year’s banquet arrived.
But Alferil couldn’t wait for tomorrow with unreserved joy.
Sitting in Terrenzio’s room, she let out a deeply troubled sigh. When she had first entered the estate, assuming she’d be given nothing more than a maid’s uniform, she hadn’t owned a suitable dress to wear out.
From the way the young master spoke, the place he intended to take her wasn’t a formal banquet hall. If so, would it be all right as long as she didn’t take off her coat?
In a way, she found it pleasant that she could even be lost in such thoughts. Even if the worry stemmed from lack, the fact that the final decision rested with her felt strangely novel.
As Alferil absentmindedly watched the icicles clinging to the edge of the window, she heard the door open behind her.
“Alfe.”
At the pleasant low voice, she leaned her face lightly against the arm she had resting on the desk.
“What are you doing?”
“Waiting for a teacher who’s often late.”
The unconscious laughter that followed made Terrenzio, who had briefly forgotten his original purpose, let out a low groan. Sensing the odd mood, Alferil lifted her lowered face and looked at him.
“What is it?”
“Why did I live back then like a drunkard, always soaked in alcohol?”
Since the negotiations exchanged when Triden first visited the estate, Terrenzio had no longer touched liquor. Aside from the occasional wine served with dinner, only water was allowed to pass his lips.
Didn’t you say you could quit anytime you wanted? She’d once looked at him with a slightly pitying gaze for spouting words no different from any other addict—but it was enough now to retract that thought.
No—there were moments when the young master seemed so healthy it made her wonder if he had ever truly been sick at all. That only made his words harder to understand, and she blinked in confusion. Misreading her doubtful look, Terrenzio said,
“If it’s noisy, it’s fine if you step out.”
“No, it’s all right. What are you looking for? Can I help?”
“There’s a key I left around here somewhere.”
A key? Alferil echoed, stepping closer to him.
Inside the drawer he opened for the first time in a while, fountain pens, an ink bottle, papers, and small poetry books were all jumbled together. About how big is it? Terrenzio showed her a length about half the joint of his finger.
Finding a key that size in that chaos was nearly impossible. Alferil shook her head.
“That’ll be difficult.”
“Yeah. Then let’s postpone today’s lesson a bit.”
It was an uncharacteristically sudden announcement. Though flustered, Alferil nodded, assuming there must be some urgent matter. Terrenzio gave her a brief nod in return and stepped out the door.
If she’d known there would soon be the sound of something breaking, she would have stopped him no matter what.
Bang! Not long after, a thunderous crash reverberated up from below.
Alferil, practicing alone at the piano, flinched violently. It was an unreal sound for the usually silent estate. She stared stiffly at the empty doorway.
Had she imagined it? That fleeting hope was crushed when, seconds later, another impact echoed through the entire mansion.
Clutching her pale face, Alferil rose to her feet.
Young master, what is it now…?
