Time reverted to a few minutes prior.
On the second-floor terrace of the Royal Ballroom, the night wind swept through the tall white marble archway, carrying a chilling cold.
Inside the hall, the orchestral music of the royal band surged like a tide. Beneath a dome painted in gold leaf and ultramarine, countless magnificent skirts and polished leather shoes intertwined under the lights, creating a dazzling stream of color.
This was a feast belonging to the noble youths, their first clumsy yet passionate step into high society as they left their completely ignorant childhoods behind.
Yet all of this noise and excitement froze completely before it could even touch the corner of Waldenburg's clothes.
He stood alone in the shadows of the terrace, his back straight, his rigidly tailored uniform looking somewhat lonely in the night. The ceremonial longsword at his waist remained sheathed, yet it gleamed with a faint, dangerous silvery light under the moon.
Waldenburg lowered his eyes slightly.
Those deep gray eyes did not reflect the brilliant colors of the dance floor, containing only a stillness like a deep, ancient well.
He did not belong here.
Or rather, he had never imagined himself belonging to a world woven from twirls, smiles, handshakes, and hypocritical greetings. For a swordsman accustomed to swinging his longsword a thousand times in the training ground, every single spin at a ball felt excessively tedious and cumbersome.
Resting his hand on the scabbard at his waist, the melancholy male god merely maintained his melancholy, then looked inside at the pink-haired heroine.
Liliana.
He couldn't help but recall the whispered rumors, scattered by the wind in the academy's corridors during the day.
【Have you heard? That eldest daughter of the Aldheim family has already, in private, told all the nobles she knows...】
【Really? Could it be that serious...】
【...You want to invite a commoner?...】
【Anyway, inviting Liliana to dance at tonight's ball means crossing that villainous daughter... You're guaranteed to pay a heavy price for it.】
【This is basically issuing a total "social ban" on that commoner representative...】
Bribery, isolation, and cold shoulders.
That girl named Loris von Aldheim was doing the meanest and most difficult things with the most elegant and noble posture.
The short black hair over Waldenburg's forehead was slightly ruffled by the night wind, and his brow furrowed almost imperceptibly.
He recalled Loris's overbearing and arrogant display of claiming dominance in front of everyone during the first week of school. He also recalled the private duel triggered by Liliana not long ago on that sun-drenched afternoon, which had ultimately ended in an absurd fashion.
In everyone's eyes, Loris was an absolute tyrant, a villainous daughter consumed by jealousy and arrogance.
But... Waldenburg knew.
Her behavior could hardly be called targeting; it was almost as if... in short.
What on earth was she trying to do?
If she truly loathed her, with the power of the ducal family, there were ten thousand ways to make a commoner girl vanish silently from the academy. Why did she have to make such a grand spectacle out of it every single time, as if she were intentionally putting on a show for someone?
Human thoughts were far too complicated, even more elusive than the most complex variations in swordsmanship.
"...How troublesome."
Waldenburg withdrew his gaze and let out an extremely soft, faint sigh.
The sigh was so faint that the moment it left his lips, it was torn to shreds by the energetic violin overture echoing from the main ballroom.
Tonight, he was merely a member of the student council, responsible for maintaining security beneath this splendid facade. Since there were things he couldn't figure out, he would stop probing. Only the sword in his hand and the rules would never steer him wrong.
Waldenburg turned around.
Reaching up to adjust his wrinkle-free uniform collar, he faded back into the dim passage leading to the first-floor preparation room.
The wall sconces in the corridor cast several long shadows, and the noise of the main ballroom gradually faded behind the heavy oak doors.
He patrolled at an unhurried pace.
Until his gaze swept past the final turn leading to the central private changing area—
Up ahead, in front of the door to the preparation room stall, a petite, panicked figure who was desperately shrinking into the shadows like a thief suddenly burst into his gray eyes.
It was Misha Noren.
...
—The Ballroom. Corridor—
I sized up my surroundings with a somewhat complicated expression.
Speaking of which, I haven't seen Misha at all along the way.
Just now, around the corner, I successfully used my authority as the duke's daughter and a load of utter nonsense to completely dismiss Margaret, Vera, and those few Swordsmanship Department freshman guards. In the process, I even got to admire the sight of the 1.6-meter crossdressed Klaus flying into a rage, which brought a trace of subtle amusement to my mood.
But where is Misha?
Where on earth is she?
I was planning to tell her to forget about it once I saw her, and I had already prepared an excuse that it wasn't necessary anymore. She couldn't have actually succeeded, right?
But that shouldn't be the case either. If the plotline were altered like that, the voice of that old-timer would have definitely chimed in my head.
From now on, I've decided to call the system the "old-timer."
“None of them can make things easy for me, can they?” I muttered to myself, preparing to head toward my private preparation room according to plan.
I should run into her on the way, right?
What I need most right now is to quickly change out of these dirty, alcohol-soaked clothes.
But just as I bypassed the final turn leading to the central private changing area, before I could even lift my hand to push open that heavy walnut door, a scene abruptly appeared in the shadows ahead, making my eyelids twitch violently.
The halo of the wall sconce was blocked by a tall stone sculpture of a youth, casting several shadows as cold and hard as iron.
Right in front of a private preparation room stall door like Liliana's, my most loyal little follower, Misha Noren, was currently frozen in place. She looked like a large, light blue squirrel caught dead in a bear trap, her entire body stiff and completely unable to move.
“...”
And behind her, a long, powerful hand was clamping down hard on the fabric of her off-shoulder gown's back collar.
The owner of that hand—his neat short black hair looked exceptionally cold and rigid in the dim light. His facial features were sharp and well-defined, devoid of any unnecessary expression. The man exuded a dangerous, lethal aura that was completely out of place with the splendid ball around them.
Waldenburg.
I felt faint.
It wasn't success, nor was it failure; she was actually caught red-handed... Fantastic!
At this very moment, the strongest freshman of the Swordsmanship Department was staring down intently at Misha with those calm, deep gray eyes.
I really hadn't expected Misha—a girl who usually seemed so cowardly, timid, and hesitant when speaking—to actually sneak all the way here.
Even more tragically, at the absolute final step right before success, she was caught red-handed by Waldenburg.
Rate on N.U.
