DYPIOOP Chapter 15

Illusions About Debutantes

Elonia straightened her posture reflexively, and Carvel's low voice reached her ears.

"Keep your head up. You don't need to look down."

"Then can I pretend it's an accident when I step on you?"

"Go ahead. I don't plan on getting stepped on."

The confident answer was so perfectly Carvel. The sheer audacity of believing he could dodge it was almost absurd. Standing face-to-face with him, barely a hand's width apart, made her more nervous than practicing with Miss Melton ever had.

'Still, I've improved a lot. At least I'm not getting goosebumps.'

Melton's creepy stroking must have built up her tolerance. Elonia made her displeasure abundantly clear as she tightened her grip on the hand resting on his arm.

"What if even you can't dodge, Your Grace?"

"Won't happen."

"How can you be so certain?"

"Because I've never failed at anything I set out to do."

Well, of course not when you use threats. Who could refuse when you shove a sword and political power in their face? Whether he genuinely didn't realize this or simply felt no dissonance, Carvel seemed entirely unbothered. Since he'd said it like that, the thought of stepping on him with dedicated persistence briefly crossed her mind. Wouldn't this be a lovely way for him to learn about his first failure? Unfortunately, she could feel countless eyes on them from all directions. Among them were Baron and Baroness Devney. Unlike earlier when they'd been showing off shamelessly in front of others, their expressions had soured. Instead, they were glaring at Elonia from their corner.

'Are they trying to make their eyes fall out?'

The crowd that had surrounded the Baron earlier was nowhere to be seen either—they must have all gone off to enjoy the ball. Given that no one was approaching them, everyone must have caught on to their lies. Elonia turned her gaze toward Carvel with a brilliant smile, as if to show them.

She added a small threat in a voice only he could hear.

"If you knew what Miss Melton taught me, you'd swallow those words right back down."

She still had that "dance to cut off contact with ex-lovers" that Melton had taught with such enthusiasm. Right now she was just bending her knees temporarily to build momentum. Elonia continued in a deceptively sweet tone.

"Just let me know if you're curious."

"You know something, Elonia?"

"What?"

"I'm the one who hired Miss Melton as your instructor."

Elonia nearly stumbled. She'd almost left the ballroom as an actual invalid instead of just pretending ankle pain. Unfortunately, Carvel caught her firmly and added:

"You didn't think I wouldn't know what she was teaching, did you?"

The hand clasped in his trembled. She calmed herself by imagining kicking his shins. She'd been so determined to just dance normally as she'd been taught. But strangely, every time Elonia tried to lift her knee even slightly, Carvel would whoosh spin her lightly in place.

'Wait, what...?'

Following his lead, Elonia spun gracefully in a full circle, her dress swirling outward in a perfect arc. The spread fabric rippled like waves.

'Is he seriously putting full effort into this?'

Usually the first dance was kept light. Calling it the "first dance" meant there would be more. You needed to conserve energy for later. Elonia could already see people waiting nearby for their turn after he finished. She pressed her lips into a firm line. This was definitely deliberate.

'This bastard, really...'

When she slyly tried to lift her foot to check, Carvel stepped back, holding only one of her hands and putting distance between them. He was openly teasing her.

'So that's how you want to play this?'

Elonia had no choice but to step back in response. The couples dancing beside them turned to stare. When they faced each other again after one step, Carvel looked considerably more amused than she did.

"How does it feel to have so many eyes on you?"

"Once in a lifetime would be... enough?"

"Really? Is that even possible when you're a spirit mage?"

"Even without that, I have a feeling it won't be possible."

Because of someone right in front of her. Elonia ground her teeth and smiled along with him. He clearly understood the implication but finished the dance with infuriating nonchalance. When the music ended, she gently grasped her dress skirt and curtsied. With her head slightly bowed, she stared at the floor and caught her breath.

'I'm... dying...'

That draining sensation she'd felt practicing with Miss Melton apparently didn't discriminate by partner. Her cherished illusions about debutante balls had long since evaporated.

'Is this really what society dancing is like? Is everyone always like this?'

She looked around, but unlike her, everyone else seemed perfectly serene. A familiar scent drifted past Elonia's nose.

'Hm? This scent is...'

Unlike ordinary perfume, it had a sharp quality that stabbed at her nostrils, making her wrinkle her nose briefly. Lyatico. The same scent that had filled the corridors the day she first arrived at the Haelton estate. If anything, this was stronger. She scanned the area visually, but finding the source in the crowd was impossible. She was starting to doubt whether this concentration could even come from a single person wearing it. Elonia sidled closer to Carvel and whispered.

"Is Lyatico perfume normally this common in the imperial palace?"

But Carvel's answer had nothing to do with her question.

"Elonia. From now on, if you don't know the answer, feel free to pretend to faint."

"Here?"

Was he seriously suggesting she collapse right here because she'd never seen Lyatico perfume before? Elonia wanted to protest the absurd request, but the crowd that swarmed them as if they'd been waiting made further conversation impossible.

"I can hardly believe I've never seen you at a ball before."

"You're perfect. Spirit mage, would you grant me the honor of the second dance?"

"Now really, Gainic. Getting a jump on everyone like this."

The surrounding nobles rushed toward Elonia one after another, competing for the next dance. If she danced twice like she had with Carvel, she'd genuinely be picking out coffin wood, so Elonia politely declined using her health as an excuse.

"Lady Devney. Would one dance be acceptable?"

"Viscount Maroi. Unfortunately, my stamina isn't very good."

Even as she spoke, the information she'd memorized beforehand unfurled in her mind like a scroll.

'Rural family, naive personality. Loose-lipped, poor estate, wears navy blue bolo tie set on best occasions.'

She discreetly checked, and sure enough, he was wearing a navy blue bolo tie. She'd been somewhat skeptical while memorizing it all, but at this point, she was starting to wonder if the information was too reliable, never mind its source.

'How does he even know people's habits?'

Elonia shot a sidelong glance at Carvel standing right next to her, feeling conflicted.

'I hope my information isn't circulating somewhere in detail.'

It was a reasonable suspicion. If he could obtain others' information this easily, why not hers when she was right nearby? Moreover, the estate had that formidable head maid.

'The one who knows down to the decimal place exactly how many cake slices I eat per day...'

Sensing her gaze, he turned his head with uncanny precision and tilted it questioningly.

"What is it, Elonia?"

Elonia had opened her mouth to answer but changed course with a different response.

"...Nothing."

She didn't have the courage to ask about her own information. Sometimes ignorance is bliss. Elonia continued her refusals without even bothering to feign illness—as if a strong breeze might blow her away, as if a deep breath might shatter her.

"Though I cannot accept the viscount's request, I hope you enjoy your week's stay in the capital."

Some nobles asked in surprise.

"How did you know when I didn't even introduce myself? It's a small estate in the countryside—quite a few people in the capital don't know of it."

Elonia spread her arms benevolently with a gentle smile.

"Because nature is always with us."

The surrounding nobles couldn't contain their admiration. Despite being rejected, none of them seemed offended. Some even bragged to others.

"The spirit mage knew about my family!"

"I'm too scared to approach. What if she digs up my past?"

"Do you have that much to hide?"

"Even if I don't, you never know."

"Tsk, tsk. Doesn't it mean you're virtuous if the spirit mage says nothing about you?"

Thanks to this, Elonia's reputation kept rising. She felt a different kind of reverence than when she'd first entered the ball. Then two familiar faces greeted them.

"It's been a while, Duke Haelton."

"Count Fellan. I didn't expect to see you here."

After receiving Count Fellan's greeting, Carvel kissed the hand of the elegant middle-aged woman beside him. Anyone could see she'd come with Count Fellan—she was the Countess. More precisely, Count Fellan's fourth wife. He was notorious for frequent remarriages and divorces. This wife, unlike the previous ones, had no title but came from a wealthy merchant family. Perhaps because of this, she was one of those actively supporting Princess Aselir's succession to the throne. Elonia breathed an internal sigh of relief.

'See? Good thing I checked the necklace beforehand.'

Since many people had already asked about gifts, she had her answer prepared. Countess Fellan covered half her face with a feather-laden fan and smiled.

"When His Grace finally unveils the fiancée he's been hiding, of course I had to come."

Even her somewhat frivolous tone was familiar. The Countess's gaze briefly turned toward Elonia. She too seemed to recognize Elonia, her round eyes showing awareness. The information Carvel had provided included simple portraits. The drawing hadn't seemed particularly striking, but seeing the real person gave her an oddly familiar feeling.

'Is it because the necklace business is bothering me?'

The Countess asked the expected question.

"We sent a gift without knowing you were Lady Devney—no name included. Did it... arrive safely?"

"The blue was so lovely I stared at it for quite a while after opening it. Thank you for thinking of me."

"Oh my, not at all. If I'd known what a charming young lady you were, I should have sent rubies instead... Ah!"

The woman who'd been chatting like any ordinary middle-aged lady let out a small gasp of realization. She snapped her fan shut and asked:

"Could it be... have we met at one of the salons in the capital?"

Elonia's mind raced. So that's where she'd seen her—she must have been a customer at the salon. Since so many young ladies came and went, she'd expected one or two might recognize her. Elonia delivered the prepared response.

"I had no idea you'd remember me. How wonderful to meet again like this."