DYPIOOP Chapter 13

First Debutante

"My lady, you look wonderful in red, and white suits you too!"

"My lady, how about navy blue?"

"No, you idiot. Purple will make my lady's orange hair stand out more! Her eyes are violet too. Don't you know about color coordination?"

"What? Are you dismissing white right now? The wedding dress is going to be white anyway, you know?"

The maids were having an unexpected quarrel over Elonia's ball gown. Amy slipped through the group with a pale pink dress. She whispered to Elonia in a very small voice.

"My lady, I recommend this one."

Elonia nodded appropriately. Once the dress was selected, the maids' handiwork was fast enough to overwhelm even Nyx. Nyx himself was sitting casually in front of the mirror, watching her.

[The dress should be blue. The maids don't know anything, tsk.]

Elonia couldn't answer in front of so many watching eyes, so she quietly shook her head to show her refusal. The blue he was talking about would obviously be the same saturation as Nyx himself. Elonia had never suited colors that were too bright and vivid. That's why the sapphire necklace was also something she'd have no use for even if given to her. But Nyx had strong opinions.

[Think about it carefully. I was the first spirit you saw, right? You also received a sapphire necklace, right? Then naturally you should wear blue, shouldn't you?]

Why not suggest she live naked since she was born that way? Elonia kept her mouth firmly shut, pretending not to hear. Nyx, who had been noisily praising blue beside her, eventually exhausted himself and disappeared from the air with a poof. She wanted to ask how Nymph was doing, but the timing seemed poor. Amy, who had been diligently applying balm, picked up her brush and asked.

"Should I put your hair up? Or leave it down?"

"Which do you think is better, Amy?"

"I think you'd look better with it down."

"Then do that."

Carvel had also said down was better. Seeing the same answer from Amy, it seemed he hadn't been making a sarcastic remark after all. Elonia couldn't stop the fluttering anticipation as she watched them prepare so diligently.

'I'm finally going to a ball!'

When she'd lived at the Devney estate, she couldn't afford a single dress for a ball. Baroness Devney was the exception, of course. She'd consistently attended every ball, claiming it was for culture and connections. Thanks to her, Elonia never even had a debutante. This was essentially her first time attending a social gathering—holding Carvel's hand, no less. She'd learned etiquette and manners from various ladies with his help, but actual practice was another matter entirely. Perhaps sensing her faint trembling, Amy clenched both fists in encouragement.

"Don't worry. Today, not even Her Highness Aselir could be more beautiful than you!"

"I appreciate the sentiment."

"It's not just talk!"

She nodded as if there wasn't a single lie. Just as Amy said, Elonia in the mirror almost didn't recognize herself for the first time. The pale pink dress reflected the light as she moved, appearing white at a glance. But where shadows fell, it clearly showed its true color.

[Well, there's no blue, but it's acceptable.]

Even Nyx, who was usually stingy with praise to the point of never having a kind word, spoke in an approving tone. Elonia grinned and walked with excitement. Click. When she opened the door, Carvel and Greythur were waiting outside. Greythur immediately offered praise along with his greeting upon seeing her.

"You look absolutely beautiful, my lady."

"Thank you, Greythur."

Swish. She lifted the hem of her dress and curtsied gracefully as she'd been taught. He left her with a good-natured smile and said.

"Then I'll guide you to the carriage. Shall we?"

Following Greythur as he led the way, Elonia whispered to Carvel in a voice full of anticipation.

"You know, I actually couldn't sleep last night."

"Why."

Even at Carvel's curt question, she answered with excitement.

"Today is essentially my debutante, after all."

Carvel's gaze, which had been facing forward, finally turned toward Elonia for a moment. It was certainly surprising that she was having her first social debut—something most people had at fourteen—well past her coming of age and even after getting engaged. She smiled bashfully.

"Everyone's like this when they're young, you know. Dreaming of wearing a pretty dress and going to the palace holding a handsome man's hand."

At this, Carvel let out a soft laugh.

"I'm flattered by such praise."

"I didn't say you were handsome, you know?"

Anyone hearing Elonia's words would cry foul at such nonsense, but seeing him smile smugly made her unwilling to concede. Besides, the "handsome man" she'd mentioned wasn't even referring to Carvel. It was just something she'd dreamed about in the past! But he shamelessly extended his hand and said.

"And yet, what can be done? Right now, I'm the one holding your hand."

Ugh... Elonia couldn't even argue and took his outstretched hand.

There was something Elonia had forgotten about stepping into society for the first time. Today was the occasion where she would officially be introduced as a spirit mage before many people. In the Empire, most people lived and died without ever seeing a spirit mage. As a result, nobles from distant provinces were flocking in out of curiosity to see her. Thanks to this, the ball was at full capacity.

"Spirit Mage, how do you do? I am Viscount Oble."

"Pleased to meet you."

"Greetings to the Spirit Mage who commands nature. I am Vale Varta, eldest son of the Marquis Varta family."

"Nice to meet you."

Elonia now understood how Carvel had become able to smile like that. From the moment she entered the palace, Carvel had given her a small piece of advice.

"You'd better loosen up your face."

"Why?"

"Because you'll have to keep the same expression until it's over."

And his words became reality. It felt like her facial muscles were freezing in place. On top of that, Carvel went a step further.

"I was quite surprised to hear of your sudden engagement, Duke."

"Is there really anything to be surprised about?"

"I wondered how you'd managed to avoid any romantic entanglements with others. You must have kept your spirit mage fiancée well hidden."

"I'm afraid I may have troubled many by loving her too much."

"My, you seem quite pleased."

Listening to his conversation from the side, Elonia felt like her body was twisting to death. Even though she hadn't yet been officially appointed as a spirit mage by the Emperor, everyone was calling her a spirit mage. It was all because Carvel had vouched for her identity. Whatever he might be thinking inside, Elonia had to act humbly and cultured—behave exactly as she'd been taught. Of course, she didn't neglect to spread their fabricated romance along the way.

"How did you two manage to meet without giving away a single hint? Well, I'll have to see the Duke in a new light."

At someone's question, Carvel smiled benignly and answered.

"It's fortunate in a way, but she wasn't in good health, so she stayed at the estate most of the time."

"Ah, she must be of delicate constitution. Oh dear..."

"It's all right. If I accommodate her, won't she improve? Just as she's already much better now."

He even bestowed the kindness of personally tucking Elonia's hair behind her ear, as if looking at a beloved sweetheart. That single gesture was enough to hear envious murmurs from here and there. As expected, this wasn't something to do completely sober. Elonia naturally picked up a champagne glass. She'd pretended to be affectionate with Carvel briefly, but this was her first time doing it for so long—and for such a large audience. The man supposedly devoted to that lovely sweetheart smiled faintly and whispered.

"Elonia. You can come a bit closer. If you're too far away, people will suspect."

He lightly stepped into Elonia's range. Facing her, he naturally took the champagne glass from Elonia's hand.

Even that action drew squeals from various directions. Carvel's popularity really hit home.

"You've just recovered from illness, so no alcohol."

"Just one sip."

"I've heard that somewhere before."

"Just how many people have you controlled to not even remember?"

He looked up as if pondering for a moment, then answered with a cheerful smile, even crinkling his eyes.

"Alcoholics say that."

Damn it. Out of spite, I won't drink. Elonia inwardly repeated harsh words and clicked her tongue. Handing the champagne glass to a servant, he answered curtly.

"If even a little alcohol gets in, the probability of mistakes increases."

Even at times like this, he remained cold. Elonia clicked her tongue softly. It wasn't as if his words were wrong. Fortunately, the affectionate lover charade with him was quickly forgotten as she dealt with the continuous stream of greetings. In the midst of receiving greetings in order, Elonia encountered unwelcome faces.

"Elonia, have you been well?"

Having been apart for barely two months, yet they felt like distant memories from long ago—none other than Baron and Baroness Devney. When had they ever called her so warmly? As soon as they entered the ball, they greeted Elonia faster than anyone. Baroness Devney grabbed her hand as if seeing a daughter after ten years and even squeezed out tears.

"If things get difficult, come home anytime. Why else would you have a family home?"

Elonia immediately withdrew her hand naturally. Then she smiled and answered.

"I appreciate the offer, Baroness."

It was clearly a statement drawing a line. Elonia discovered for the first time that she could speak this coldly yet gently. So, to put it precisely, this should be called the "Carvel method of refusal." Exactly like him. Refusing with a smiling face, gently but firmly. She was no longer in a position where mere baron and baroness could freely grab her hand first. At Elonia's words, the faces of the baron and baroness stiffened momentarily. But before the crowd gathering out of curiosity about the Devneys, that moment was merely a passing fragment.

"Baron Devney, why didn't you mention having such a beautiful and excellent daughter?"

"Exactly. You always bragged so much about Erics that we didn't even know you had a daughter."

To questions mixed with surprise and doubt, they answered without hesitation, as if prepared.

"Being known as a spirit mage would have caused various inconveniences."

"We may not look it, but we're still the Devney Barony. We have rules and guidance passed down from our ancestors."

Despite knowing nothing about spirit mages, they packaged themselves as if they'd maintained their lineage excellently. Having spent their lives falsely portraying a shabby appearance and packaging themselves, this much was nothing.