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Chapter 11
The Duchess straightened her posture and tapped her cane. At that signal, the servants began setting up a gate-leg table made of oak. They laid a lace cloth over it, placed a small vase on top, and then arranged teacups and desserts around it.
Odellia also pulled up a chair and sat down before the Duchess. Cedric quickly took the seat beside Odellia, and Kalix sat across from her.
“Do you usually enjoy drinking tea?”
The Duchess pulled the handle portion out from the tip of her cane with a *pop*. From within the long cane emerged a slender stick, about the size of a conductor’s baton. Odellia instinctively realized that, if used improperly, it could very well become a switch.
Was having tea supposed to be this nerve-wracking?
Swallowing dryly, Odellia glanced at Kalix across from her and answered.
“……No.”
“In high society, afternoon tea parties are held just as often as evening banquets—if not more so. The Empress, in particular, holds tea time from after luncheon all the way through the day. The more you know about tea and teacups, the easier it will be to catch the Empress’s favor. After all, you need to receive her ring, don’t you?”
So saying, the Duchess nodded toward Odellia as if to tell her to take a sip.
The moment Odellia reached for the teacup, the Duchess tapped the back of her hand lightly—not painfully—with the slender baton. Then she gave Odellia’s tensely raised shoulders another tap.
“A lady must move as lightly as a feather. When grasping things, always remember not to grip too tightly. If your shoulders rise, you appear stiff—and a stiff person exudes no sense of ease, do they?”
Odellia watched the Duchess demonstrate and nodded.
The Duchess gave a slight smile and nodded, signaling Odellia to try again. Unlike before, Odellia slowly reached out and gently grasped the handle. Then, at a steady but not sluggish pace, she lifted the saucer and teacup and took a light sip.
She unconsciously smacked her lips as she savored the flavor, and the Duchess spoke.
“This is black tea imported from the Ankva Empire. It has a stronger flavor than Alendassian black tea. What do you think?”
“……I’m afraid my palate is too dull to tell the difference.”
She had heard that cultured ladies could recite hundreds of varieties of tea leaves—their flavors, oxidation levels, fermentation—and even competed over who could brew tea best, showing great enthusiasm in purchasing the proper tools. But to Odellia’s palate, it really didn’t seem worth all that fuss.
It was a bit sour, and yet not quite strong enough—somehow insipid. The aroma was pleasant, but the taste wasn’t really to her liking. In fact, Odellia’s preference leaned closer to the flavor of fermented wine than fermented tea.
*’If I say that, she’ll probably think I’m hopeless.’*
Thinking this, she unconsciously glanced at Kalix.
Unlike her, perhaps because he was of royal blood, he lifted his teacup leisurely, took a sip, and closed his eyes as if savoring the aroma and flavor—his posture was quite convincing. *So that’s what dignity looks like*, she thought—and just then, he opened his eyes slightly and met her gaze.
Kalix set down his teacup with a slightly playful expression.
“To be honest, I don’t particularly like tea either. I’ve just been pretending it’s cognac.”
With a languid gaze, he flashed a grin that was irritatingly beautiful. Could even his teasing expression be so lovely?
At that rare smile, Odellia found herself staring blankly at him.
Then their eyes met again.
Ah, damn it. Letting out a small sigh of lament, Odellia quickly averted her gaze and composed her expression.
Perhaps it was just her imagination that their eyes had met, but Odellia felt her heart pounding like a child caught doing something naughty.
He so rarely showed a smile like that. She pressed her thumbnail into the engraved pattern on the innocent teacup handle.
What had he been thinking when he smiled like that? Or perhaps he wasn’t thinking anything at all. But having served under him on the battlefield for years, she knew one thing: he truly was a man without much emotion.
He was like a concentrated bundle of pure rationality. Whether facing the brink of defeat or sounding the war drums of victory, he showed neither anger nor joy. He simply maintained his usual expressionless face and planned his next move.
“Cognac, you say—Your Highness certainly has a way with words.”
“Thank you for the compliment.”
“The audacity to take that as a compliment.”
At his slick reply, the Duchess raised both hands in surrender and shook her head.
Odellia couldn’t help but let out a *pfft* of laughter. Kalix laughed along with her. There was, in fact, a story only the two of them knew.
The general who had been Odellia’s former commander and the head of the 1st Division had been quite fond of black tea. There had been a rumor that he secretly carried black tea in a cognac bottle on the battlefield, afraid of being mocked for putting on airs.
Having worked under him, Odellia knew that rumor was no mere gossip, and Kalix, too, could hardly be unaware of his own subordinate’s preferences.
The Duchess and Cedric, who hadn’t been in on the joke, only looked back and forth between the two with bewildered expressions.
Though it wasn’t all that funny, Odellia couldn’t stop laughing—she ended up clutching her stomach and laughing until she later received a scolding from the Duchess about learning how to laugh properly.
—
***
After several weeks of rigorous bride training, Odellia had learned to hold a teacup gracefully and distinguish the flavors of imported teas. She had also mastered the technique of snapping open a fan in one smooth motion without dropping it.
Of course, she still occasionally made the mistake of stepping on Cedric’s foot instead of the step—but she thought it wasn’t *that* bad anymore.
She had practically memorized the special notes on the men who had made it onto the husband candidate list. She was no longer awkward in a dress, and she could walk in heels without wobbling.
Finally, her debutante dress—fully fitted to her body after the last adjustments—arrived.
As she smoothed the embroidery of the dress, neatly packaged inside a large, ornate box, Odellia fell into deep thought. Her mind was a jumble of scattered, restless thoughts.
*Tomorrow is the real debutante ball.*
*Tomorrow, I’ll wear this dress and look for a husband I don’t love.*
*Tomorrow……*
That night, Odellia had another nightmare.
But this time, it wasn’t a dream of running for her life, nor of shivering in the cold.
In the dream, Odellia was holding another man’s hand at a wedding ceremony. Though she couldn’t see the man’s face, she thought she would never love him in her lifetime.
At that moment, someone gripped her other hand tightly.
She turned around—and the man holding her hand was none other than Crown Prince Kalix.
She woke with a start. Baffled, Odellia sat up with a dumbfounded expression, wondering what kind of ridiculous dream that was.
Right on cue, servants carrying a bathtub entered, placed the still half-asleep Odellia inside, and began pouring in hot water.
“Since swelling needs to be minimized today, I’ll give you a lymphatic massage.”
“This is premium perfume imported from abroad. If you bathe with this, your body will radiate a floral scent.”
“This is a cloth soaked in rose water. It’ll make your skin radiant, so keep it on your face for a moment.”
They were so efficient at draining one’s attention that the turmoil from her morning dream vanished completely, and Odellia found herself being washed, peeled, and wiped in every direction.
—
***
The Alendassia Empire’s debutante ball changes themes every year. This year’s theme was “The Empress’s Garden,” so most ladies would likely enter the palace in dresses as colorful as flowers.
The Empress herself had been busy since early morning. Dozens of maids rushed about, helping her prepare.
“Must she really stand out the most at the ceremony to discover the season’s brightest debutante? What’s that stuck on her dress—flowers? Are those real flowers?”
Liam sneered as he watched. Fabbiana shot back without backing down.
“They’re artificial flowers made of silk, obviously. And Your Majesty, you’ve chosen to personally attend this year, unlike usual—how much do you intend to covet this time?”
Indeed, the Emperor had his eye on the new debutante every year. Unable to officially take concubines, he kept mistresses instead, repeating cycles of relationships and breakups—Fabbiana was utterly sick of it.
“Do you think I’m accompanying you to scout for a new mistress? I’m here to witness a truly rare spectacle with my own eyes.”
Normally, only the Empress—who oversaw high society—managed the debutante ball, but this year was an exception. He seemed determined to attend even if he had to revise the law.
And naturally, the crowd gathered to watch this debutante ball would be fiercer and more packed than ever before.
Whether they came to see her complete transformation or to find fault with her, everyone was there to watch Odellia make her belated debut.
Empress Fabbiana didn’t like that. In the end, the protagonist had already been set as Odellia.
“It’s not just because you want to mock her childishly, is it?”
As she asked with a hint of sarcasm, Liam’s expression turned meaningful.
“I want to see my younger brother’s judgment. If Kalix’s face falls, mine rises—and if his face rises, mine falls……”
“You summoned Kalix?”
Fabbiana shot up from her seat. Unfortunately, she was in the middle of having her hair ornaments pinned in, and the sudden movement caused a sharp pin to prick her.
After tossing the accessory aside in annoyance and storming out of the room, the maids hurried after her with pale faces.
The Emperor found the whole scene amusing and laughed heartily—then clicked his tongue and left as well.
—
***
While the Empress and Emperor had been arguing fiercely since early morning, Kalix stood apart from all the chaos, calmly adjusting his attire before the mirror with a perfectly composed face. Glancing out the window, he noticed carriages beginning to arrive one by one.
*’She should have left by now.’*
He looked down at the courtyard, carefully scanning the ladies stepping out of their carriages to see if Odellia was among them.
—
*’Since I’ve already chosen Lady Odellia’s debutante dress, don’t even think about seeing it until the day itself!’*
—
The Duchess had been adamant, as if guarding a great secret.
*’I’m not curious at all.’*
He had simply thought that, among the ladies who would surely be lavishly adorned, it might be easier to spot Odellia if he at least knew what dress to look for.
Even as he rationalized it, Kalix kept his gaze fixed out the window, searching for Odellia. He continued until he entered the ballroom.
