Shivers at the Ball (4)
“Hmph, ahem!”
Having grasped the situation, Esilly let out a fake cough before hastily gathering the scattered papers and tucking them back into her thigh. Evidence disposal, in other words. A brief silence settled between us afterward. We understood each other perfectly—a blessing worthy of celebration—but the circumstances weren't calm enough to show it openly. The Elf was still watching us. Now, the burden of that fact weighed on Esilly as much as it did on me.
“Sir Theorad. If you've done something shameful, you should apologize on behalf of your family, somehow...”
The prolonged silence would invite suspicion. Esilly tapped the table lightly to break it, her gaze fixed on the orchestra in the corner. Wondering what was happening, I turned to look. The orchestra, dressed sharply in tailcoats, caught her signal and hurriedly struck up their music. Louder than usual, the lively yet not entirely gentle melodies filled the ballroom.
“Esilly, don't tell me...”
Shh. Esilly raised a finger to caution me again. Not yet, her lips mouthed silently.
—Now then! Esteemed ladies and gentlemen!
The servant emceeing the party amplified his voice with an amplification spell. The nobles in the hall paired off with familiar ease, smiles of delight on their faces.
—The time has come to crown the party! Please join hands and gather in the center of the hall! Under the night sky blessed by the God of Light, show off your elegant steps!
As soon as the servant finished, the nobles formed groups of twos and threes and moved to the center. The orchestra's music swelled, riding the wave. Staring blankly at the scene, I heard Esilly whisper in the tiniest voice.
“Sir Theorad. Drag me roughly. Like you're offended.”
“How could I ever treat you roughly?”
“Sweet words, but set them aside for now. Avoiding the Elf's suspicion comes first, right?”
True enough. The Elf was still watching us, her expression suspicious. If I acted half-heartedly here, all of Esilly's careful plans would go to waste. I nodded, stood, and yanked Esilly's arm roughly.
“Kyaa—!”
Esilly shrieked as she stumbled into my arms. I felt the soft press of her breasts, but now wasn't the time to notice. I murmured into her ear.
“What now?”
“...Just in case, take me as far from the Elf as possible. But Sir Theorad, I didn't mean that roughly.”
“Is there a problem?”
I asked out of genuine curiosity, but Esilly just hemmed and hawed without answering. In any case, standing still wouldn't do. I led her to the farthest corner from the Elf and finally stopped, turning to her.
“Now...”
“Dance.”
Dance? Hadn't we come here to talk? I stood dazed for a moment, then took in the surroundings and understood.
“I see. Everyone's dancing—if we just stand here like idiots, it'll look suspicious.”
“That's not it.”
“Hm?”
“I just wanted to dance with you, Sir Theorad. You only read books and enjoy quiet hobbies. It's been almost three years since you last came to a ball, right?”
Esilly took my left arm and clasped my right hand. A soft, refined smile played on her lips, shy yet elegant.
“So enjoy it a little, with me.”
How could I refuse after that? I flashed a shallow smile and wrapped my arm around her back.
“Alright.”
As the upbeat music crescendoed, Esilly's and my feet moved as one. But when my steps tangled occasionally, she'd giggle softly and correct me. The waltz, which I'd learned but never enjoyed, bloomed with her. It felt like a happy fragrance seeping into my inner world.
“Sir Theorad.”
But such happiness couldn't last. Amid the dance, Esilly's expression shifted, and she whispered so only I could hear.
“Tell me now. How old is the Elf exactly?”
“Ah. As far as I know, she's over two hundred and fifty. Her magical prowess rivals that of an archmage.”
“I see...”
Her reaction was detached, as if she'd half-expected it. Keeping time with the beat, Esilly asked again.
“Anything else you know? Like why she's playacting as a slave?”
“Her nature's perverted. That's all I know for now.”
“Hm. Well... From what I see, she's no ordinary Elf.”
“No ordinary Elf?”
“Just a hunch. When I asked her name, she didn't answer right away and dodged it—that stuck with me. And at lunch today, I saw a strange hostility in her gaze toward me. Is that really just possessiveness?”
We spun once, switching places.
“What are you getting at?”
“Just... I don't think she was sold to you by coincidence.”
I was taken aback.
“I have no idea. There's no evidence to confirm her true identity.”
“Same here. For now, I'll look into the Great Forest. It's shrouded in mystery, so I won't find much, but it's better than nothing.”
“Thanks, even if it's just words.”
“Not just words.”
Esilly flashed a playful smile and glanced toward the entrance. The Elf was still watching.
“Anyway, she looks pretty angry. Can't stand seeing you dance happily with another woman, huh?”
“How do you know?”
“Woman's intuition. If this keeps up, you'll suffer for it with the Elf. Worst case, she might drag you off to the Great Forest...”
I gasped and gripped Esilly's hand tightly.
“That can't happen! I have a duty to protect my family...!”
“C-calm down. It's just the worst-case scenario. There's surely a way to avoid it.”
“A way?”
“Yes. Though it's not great for you.”
“I don't care. As long as it calms the Elf's anger.”
“Then... it'll hurt a bit.”
Hurt? Before I could process that, Esilly pulled her clasped hand free and swung at my cheek.
Slap—!
My jaw snapped sideways, vision flickering. The orchestra halted, and the dancing nobles froze, turning toward us. In my shock, I turned back to see Esilly mouthing furiously.
Act like we fought. To quell the Elf's anger.
So that was it—pretend our relationship soured, right in front of everyone, so the Elf wouldn't suspect it was fake. Especially since the violence was public. I nodded in understanding, cleared my throat, and straightened my collar.
But how do I make it look like we fought?
Esilly and I had never argued, not once. I'd never even had a heated spat with anyone. And with all these eyes on us—and the Elf to fool—I couldn't half-ass it. Hesitating a moment, I suddenly grabbed Esilly's chin.
“Stubborn wench.”
I pulled her chin toward me and lowered my head to meet her eyes.
“One day, I'll make you mine.”
Esilly's eyes widened round. Her cheeks flushed, her mouth agape. Acting, no doubt. I nodded to show I got it, released her chin, and strode toward the entrance. The waiting Elf rushed over naturally, clinging to my arm. Her soft breasts wrapped around it distractingly.
“M-master... Are you okay?”
Satisfaction gleamed in her worried red eyes. Relief washed over me, draining my tension.
“Don't concern yourself with things beyond your station.”
“Hiiing... If you're okay, want to touch my breasts, Master?”
“No need. Get lost.”
She caught the hint and slunk away reluctantly. I clicked my tongue openly and glanced back. Esilly stared as if it were the most natural thing.
I'll leave the cleanup to you.
I gave a light nod and exited the annex.
*
Meanwhile, Esilly could only stare blankly at the annex entrance. Her pounding heart wouldn't settle.
Stubborn wench...?
She knew it was acting. But human emotions didn't care. Her face burned red, her breath quickened. A puzzled noble lightly touched her shoulder.
“Lady Esilly. What on earth made you slap Viscount Theorad?”
“Eh? Y-yes?”
Esilly snapped back to reality.
“Oh, um. He suddenly tried to kiss me, so I flinched in surprise... Nothing else.”
“Heh. You slapped him for trying to kiss you? When you're engaged?”
“Yes. I acted like a fool. I shouldn't have...”
The noble chuckled heartily. Seeing her shy demeanor, he dismissed the incident as 'young lovers' silly spat.'
“Good grief. Fighting over nothing. The fire of youth, eh? Anyway, orchestra—keep playing! We can't ruin the ball just because the stars left!”
The noble clapped, and the orchestra resumed. Amid the lively melody, noblewomen and young ladies giggled and gossiped excitedly. Esilly felt embarrassed, nowhere to look.
“I-I'll head out now.”
Excusing herself, she left the dance and chatter-filled ball and reached the annex's private room. Closing the door, she flopped onto the bed and calmed her trembling heart. But whenever it eased, Theorad's voice replayed in her mind.
—Stubborn wench. One day, I'll make you mine.
Words he'd never say. That's why they hit so hard, so thrillingly. She recalled his face: light brown eyes like autumn wheat fields narrowed sharply, gazing intently; cold tone from twisted lips. A side of the gentle, kind Theorad she'd never seen.
Her face heated, lips parched.
“Idiot...”
She'd told him to anger her, not seduce.
—One day, I'll make you mine.
The voice replayed. But she didn't hate it. Esilly hugged a nearby pillow, face flushing.
“Silly Theorad.”
Tonight, sleep wouldn't come easily.