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~Chapter 59~
At some point, elegant music began flowing through the hall.
Shariette was facing one of her most important tasks for tonight.
“Let’s hope all that practice was worth it.”
Noxian teased.
“I’m good at memorizing things,” she replied.
“If that’s true, why do you mess up every time?” he said, smirking.
Shariette felt confident.
Well, at least when she practiced alone, she had never made a mistake.
The only time she messed up was when she danced with Noxian.
The beat should’ve been the same, but it somehow got harder.
That’s why she believed it wasn’t her fault—it must be Noxian’s.
“Now that I think about it, this must really be your first public dance,” he said.
“Strictly speaking, even in private, the only one I’ve ever danced with is you.”
She was laying the groundwork: even if she made mistakes, she was doing incredibly well for a first-timer.
“Is that so? You’re right.”
Noxian suddenly smiled wide, all the way to the corners of his eyes.
He grabbed her small hand—it fit entirely in his palm.
Every time he held it, he had to be careful not to crush or hurt her.
Yet a strange urge always came with it—to squeeze tight and never let go.
“Your waist. Can I hold it?”
She hadn’t expected him to ask permission even now, though he had been doing that lately. Shariette responded,
“How are you supposed to dance without holding it?”
As soon as she gave permission, Noxian wrapped his arm around her thin waist and pulled her close.
A lazy, soothing scent—like grass, herbs, and sunlight—washed over him.
And when he thought about others possibly smelling or feeling this same thing, a dark impulse passed through him—
If he could just cut off their tongues, their hands, their feet that dared to approach…
“Just as I thought,” Shariette said confidently, spinning in perfect timing.
She had calculated the step and the rhythm perfectly—and was thrilled it worked out.
Noxian, who had been lost in darker thoughts, responded a beat late.
“Thought what?”
“I analyzed why I always messed up when we danced together,” she said.
“And?”
“You were the one counting the beat wrong.”
She confidently blamed him.
Noxian was speechless. He even forgot what he had been thinking.
“Me? Shariette, come on—”
“You tend to count the beat half a step or a full step late,” she insisted.
Shariette had tested her theory, and it worked.
“So just now, I intentionally adjusted to half a beat slower—and it matched! I was right!”
Now Noxian felt wrongly accused.
“Shariette… have you considered that you’re the one going too fast?”
Impossible. She shook her head.
“Someone like you might miscount when thinking with your head. But I count with my body rhythm, so I don’t mess up.”
“Body rhythm?”
“Yeah. Especially with my heartbeat and pulse.”
Even now, she was internally counting with her heartbeat.
“…You use that?”
Noxian tilted his head.
Well, it made sense. For her, measuring things must be second nature.
But then his thoughts stopped.
“She counts rhythm… by heartbeat and pulse?”
He froze in place, and the movement stalled. That nearly caused their next dance step to collapse.
Shariette gently tugged his collar.
“What are you doing?”
Noxian barely managed to move his feet again.
“…It’s nothing.”
But Shariette noticed—his body temperature and heart rate had suddenly spiked.
It was the kind of reaction someone has when they’re unexpectedly flustered.
“You made one mistake just now, but it’s okay. The timing changed anyway, so no one noticed.”
She even comforted him, not wanting to make things harder for someone who already claimed to be at his limit.
Noxian bit his lip.
“Damn it… and you’re the one saying that—”
“What?”
“Do you even realize what you just said?”
She just looked at him blankly, not understanding.
That made him grind his teeth.
She said something that completely flipped his brain inside out—and didn’t even realize it.
He was constantly discovering new depths to his patience.
“Well… anyway.”
He turned his attention to all the gazes in the hall.
Some he could ignore.
—People whose names weren’t even worth remembering.
Others should be cut off if possible.
—Like that bastard Genor.
Some needed to be pulled up from the root.
—Names not worth writing down; they’d vanish soon anyway.
And then…
“The ones I need to watch.”
A pair of dull green eyes—like bruises—stared sharply at them.
It was an unfamiliar face.
Curiosity. Suspicion. Observation.
Were they looking at him? Or at Shariette?
As they spun again, Noxian pulled her into his arms and followed the gaze.
The look wasn’t aimed at just one—it was at both of them.
“…Shariette.”
“What?”
“The princess says she wants to talk with you. Are you interested?”
“Can I drop the ‘Your Highness’ title when I talk?”
“She won’t hear you from here.”
“Walls and floors have ears.”
“You’ve learned something useful. So, what do you want to do?”
“You can do anything—or do nothing at all.”
Shariette thought hard.
She wasn’t sure if she wanted to or didn’t want to.
“I’ll meet her.”
Noxian’s brow furrowed at the unexpected answer.
He thought she’d say one of three things:
“Why?”
“Why me?”
“Why would she want me?”
“…Do you feel pressured?”
“No. It just doesn’t seem like a bad idea.”
That was even weirder.
Noxian looked at her suspiciously.
But Shariette had her own logic.
This was the crown prince’s birthday party, yet the princess sent the invitation.
“She must have really wanted me to come. That means it’s something important.”
The invitation came right after her name appeared in the newspaper.
“Then she probably already knows about me.”
There was only one reason for the princess to want to meet a baron’s daughter no one had ever heard of—who was currently staying with House Rubellot.
“She must need Pharmacist ‘Miss V’.”
Shariette wasn’t sure why Noxian hadn’t told her this earlier.
But deep down, something strange was growing.
“If my secret gets exposed one day, he’ll probably kill me. I’ve lied too much.”
“But… he won’t let me die for any other reason.”
It was the first trust that had grown out of the ruins of a self she had once destroyed just to survive.
The song ended, and it was time for a break.
Shariette had just spotted Hailey and smiled, waving at her.
But then she also noticed someone standing next to Hailey—Kaiel Genor.
“Shariette! Did you get home safely last time? And Lord Rubellot, it’s been a while.”
“Miss Verdette. Nice to see you again.”
“Hello, Hailey. Hello, Mr. Genor.”
Mr. Genor…?
Kaiel gave a small laugh at the slightly distant title and made a suggestion.
“Would you call me Kaiel? That is, if you’re okay with it.”
Nixia was just “Nixia,” and Hailey was just “Hailey”… so should Kaiel also be just “Kaiel”?
Shariette turned her head, trying to find a comparison.
She looked at someone who matched Kaiel in three ways: noble, heir, male.
That meant… Noxian, who stood beside her.
“…?”
Then she quickly turned away again.
‘Ah, crap—his eyes are scary!’
Shariette’s awkward moment was interrupted by an unexpected voice.
“In the recent southern plague relief efforts, Lionel played a major role.”
A low, firm voice echoed across the banquet hall through a magical speaker.
From the upper royal seat, the King had risen and stepped forward.
“He identified the source of the disease quickly, acted fast, and prevented a greater disaster. Even if such duties fall on the royal family, this achievement deserves recognition.”
The entire hall stirred with surprise.
People already knew about Lionel’s efforts, but they didn’t expect the King to praise him so openly.
Up until now, there had been rumors that the King wasn’t fond of the Crown Prince.
“I’m honored, Your Majesty. But the greatest credit belongs not to me, but to someone else.”
Crown Prince Lionel bowed his head and answered humbly.
“Finding the right person and using them well is also part of your skill.”
“She is someone who will serve the people of Aylard and Your Majesty’s grace. With your permission, I would like to introduce her here.”
The King turned his gaze toward where the Crown Prince was pointing.
“So Lionel wasn’t the real star of this story,”
Noxian whispered beside her.
Everyone turned to look at the person being introduced.
A young woman stepped forward, dressed in pure white from head to toe—like a symbol of holiness and purity.
She wore a circlet like an ancient priestess, and her soft pink hair and gentle green eyes gave her a lovely, spring-like impression.
“This young lady is Anette Maze, the healer who made the greatest contribution in resolving the southern plague.”
Prince Lionel introduced her personally.
“She is the daughter of the Maze Viscount family and has awakened the long-lost power of healing. She saved countless lives and is a true hero.”
