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Chapter 14
The end of April was approaching. Soon, the full heat of summer would arrive.
Isteya was generally a hot region, and in midsummer the southern areas became so unbearably hot during the day that normal activity was difficult. Because of this, nobles and other affluent classes often owned townhouses or villas in the relatively cooler north—around the capital, Elcantador.
Starting in mid-April, they would slowly relocate, and by the end of April most of the upper class would be gathered near Elcantador.
Thus, for Isteya’s aristocracy, the end of April marked the beginning of the social season.
And the grand opening of that season was the debutante ball hosted by the Emperor.
The Isteya–Lorance Empire’s Emperor alternated ruling between two capitals every year. One year in Elcantador of Isteya, the next in Bureju of Lorance.
Of course, the heat did not wait for the Emperor’s presence, so even in years when he stayed in Bureju, the social season naturally formed by May.
However, families with daughters had to be especially anxious. If they missed this year, they had only two options.
Either wait two years for the Emperor to return, or bring their daughters to distant Lorance the following year for the debutante ball.
The first option risked missing the proper marriage age, and the second meant sending a daughter far away, which most families did not prefer.
Astrid stared blankly at the map Lady de Vasquez had hung on the wall. Bureju was deep inland.
“If I had been caught next year, that necklace might not have even reached Her Majesty before I died.”
Astrid idly touched the pendant hanging at her collarbone. As expected, it carried the same reckless luck as her father.
Since the incident at the bell tower, Astrid’s etiquette lessons had continued at the Del Ponto estate under extended house arrest.
Lady de Vasquez personally—sometimes even bringing instructors—visited almost every day.
Astrid noticed her darkening under-eye circles day by day. According to Rosalina’s explanation, she was spending mornings directing preparations for the imperial ball at the palace and afternoons teaching Astrid at the estate.
Feeling guilty at her exhaustion, Astrid had been quietly attending lessons these days. Fortunately, after morning sword training, she felt drowsy enough in the afternoon to sit still.
Lady de Vasquez stood by the map, pointing here and there with a pointer as she explained.
The dotted lines divided regions into estates—this was a duke’s territory, that a count’s, and so on. Astrid pretended to follow the pointer while staring only at the coastline.
No matter how you looked at it, the closest coastal city to the capital was Rouge Rosada.
“So it’s west from here,” she thought. “I wonder if I can find a compass…”
A sharp tap interrupted her thoughts.
“Miss Del Ponto. Pay attention.”
“Ah—sorry.”
Astrid straightened her posture.
“Rumors are already spreading among high society. As the Emperor’s ward, you must behave properly at the debutante ball.”
“Yes…”
Seeing her lack of enthusiasm, the lady added,
“If you maintain good behavior and complete the debutante properly, I will speak to His Majesty and have your house arrest lifted.”
“Really?!”
Astrid’s eyes immediately lit up. The lady sighed.
Next came dancing. When asked if she had ever danced before, Astrid suddenly stood up and began joyfully dancing while singing a sailor’s song.
Rosalina, standing by the doorway, suppressed a laugh, while the countess rubbed her forehead and then nodded.
“…Your singing voice is quite good. Next time, I’ll bring a music instructor as well.”
At the mention of more lessons, Astrid’s mouth snapped shut.
Lady de Vasquez continued.
“I’ll explain the order of the ball. The first dance is traditionally with the partner you arrive with—usually a father or older male relative.”
“I don’t have one.”
“His Majesty has arranged one for you. From the second dance onward, gentlemen will request dances from ladies. No matter how much you like someone, you must not dance two consecutive pieces with the same person. The number of partners determines how successful your debut is.”
She sat at the clavichord and played a simple melody.
“Most dances follow this rhythm. Sir Felix, since there is no male partner today, stand beside her and demonstrate the basic steps.”
Rosalina stood beside Astrid. Astrid carefully watched and followed her movements: forward, sideways, back, turn. It didn’t feel particularly difficult.
After three pieces, Astrid could move quite naturally on her own.
Rosalina praised her quick learning, but Lady de Vasquez still looked somewhat dissatisfied.
“Tomorrow, I’ll bring a proper practice partner.”
Next came the dress fitting.
A white gown was brought from a trunk. It was similar to the one she had worn at the palace, but with altered neckline and sleeves. A silver-framed amethyst brooch decorated the chest, resembling her father’s necklace.
Lady de Vasquez left the room while Rosalina helped Astrid change. The layered petticoats made the skirt extremely wide—wider than anything Astrid had ever worn.
If she wasn’t careful, she could sweep everything around her.
“It fits perfectly. No further adjustments needed.”
Just then, a knock came at the door.
“Lady de Vasquez, and Miss. Sorry to interrupt the lesson, but there is a visitor…”
It was the butler.
“Tell them to wait—oh?”
The countess turned toward the door and noticed a flash of gold hair behind him.
“Oh my, oh my! If it isn’t Florian Ortes!”
Florian stood behind the butler, looking unwell.
“I greet you, Lady de Vasquez.”
He bowed deeply, also giving Astrid a reluctant nod. At the lady’s gesture, he hesitantly entered.
“Are you working again today? How diligent.”
“Yes…”
Unable to explain that his father had simply shoved him here without reason, he nodded.
“How earnest. I wish my eldest son were half as responsible as you.”
Then she looked between Florian and Astrid.
“Do you know the court social dance?”
“Pardon?”
“Huh?”
Florian stood in front of Astrid in her white dress. It felt like a cursed day from the morning onward.
His father, after hearing some rumor that Florian had been served tea during his last visit, had suddenly grown oddly cheerful and personally forced him into a carriage to the Del Ponto estate.
Even the butler was strange—without any prior appointment, he had immediately escorted Florian to the young lady in the middle of lessons.
“Did he take a bribe from my father?”
A reasonable suspicion.
When their hands met, Lady de Vasquez began playing the clavichord.
One, two, three. One, two, three.
As she had said it was her first time, her steps were rough. And from Florian’s perspective, she kept trying to lead instead of following.
Each time, he corrected her and guided her properly. Fortunately, she did not resist forcefully, and the dance became somewhat passable.
“Your hands are very soft,” Astrid said suddenly.
“W-what?”
Flustered, he guided her into a turn.
“Your eyelashes are really long up close too.”
“What are you even talking about?”
“Just saying.”
Every time she seemed about to speak again, he made her turn.
“Ortes, too many turns. And Del Ponto, stop whispering while dancing. It causes scandal.”
Lady de Vasquez finished the piece.
“Today is enough. Ortes, since you’re here, stay a bit longer and help practice.”
After she left, Astrid poked his side.
“Didn’t you say you wouldn’t come again?”
“My father sent me.”
“That’s a good thing!”
Florian slumped against a pillar.
“…My father told me to.”
“You should listen to your dad!”
Astrid laughed in the sunset light.
“Want to walk? The garden is finished.”
“We’re not exactly people who go walking together.”
“Then don’t.”
She shrugged.
“I wish you could come to the ball. It would be less nerve-wracking with someone familiar.”
“I can’t, I told you.”
“Sorry.”
“Huh?”
Florian looked at her.
“I’m sorry about the ship. For pointing a knife at you.”
“Why bring that up now?”
“Because I should.”
She extended her hand.
“I kind of want to get along with you.”
Florian stared at it.
After a moment, he took it.
“…I accept the apology.”
Astrid smiled brightly—then suddenly flinched.
“Wait, ladies aren’t supposed to shake hands.”
“Is that really what matters right now…?”
Florian let out a tired laugh.
