The Social Ball (4)
“Long time no see, Ian. You've gotten even cuter since last time? You should enter the main hall with me.”
The Grand Duchess Ella, draped in a pristine white fur shawl, whispered in a sweet, languid voice.
Just her presence alone made the surrounding temperature plummet—I could feel it on my skin—and the air seemed to press down heavily.
The other noble ladies in the garden held their breath, barely daring to breathe as they watched her every move.
“Haha, well.”
But even in the face of that overwhelming aura, Alba de Espada's expression, sitting across from me, didn't change a bit.
“Oh dear, even Your Highness the Grand Duchess. I already made a polite offer first and we were having a nice chat, but you show up late and try to steal it away? How rude. They don't teach social ball etiquette in the North... oh, right, they don't even hold them there, do they? Makes sense—no food to speak of in that frozen wasteland where nothing grows.”
Alba crossed her legs, tilted her chin up, and whispered mockingly.
At her provocative words, the surrounding ladies gasped in shock.
“Heavens, talking like that to the Northern Grand Duchess? Aren't you scared of the fallout? Lady Espada's got real guts.”
“Well, it's not just any count family—it's the Espada Count family. Loyal vassals second only to the imperial family. With the imperial backing, she can afford to talk tough.”
“Yeah. The Northern Grand Duke... isn't on great terms with the imperial family.”
'Not great terms? That's putting it mildly.'
The eastern Espada Count family, devoutly loyal to the imperial house, versus the Northern Grand Ducal family, who wielded massive power up north like their own independent nation, always one step away from potentially striking the throne from behind—a latent rebel force.
And now, their ladies had clashed right over me.
'...Shrimp get crushed in whale fights, huh.'
Ella narrowed her eyes at Alba's sharp provocation and smiled seductively.
“Oh my, rude? I was just extending a light favor to someone I've known well from the palace for ages. And you take it as stealing your promise? How narrow-minded. As a lady of an imperial count family, maybe show a little more grace?”
At Ella's mockery, Alba's red lips twisted coldly.
She rose slowly from her seat, locking eyes with Ella and arching a brow.
“Ah, I overstepped. Sure, our family can't compare to the Grand Ducal house. Matching the eye level of a family eyeing the throne beyond even the Grand Duke... well, yes, a count family's grace is bound to fall short. But we're content with what we have. We have no desire to become traitorous upstarts greedily coveting the throne.”
“...!”
At Alba's blatant mockery calling the Northern Grand Ducal house traitors, Ella's delicate brows shot up.
For a split second, she lost control of her expression—her lavender eyes flashed silver, and the temperature seemed to drop sharply—but she quickly regained her composure, adopting a leisurely smile as she suddenly turned to me.
“Hehe, no need to respond to such nonsense. Anyway, Lady Espada, why not let Prince Ian decide for himself?”
'Ah, come on.'
Ella turned her head toward me and extended her slender white hand.
“So, whose hand will you take to enter the main hall? Naturally, you'll choose me, someone you know, right, Ian?”
“As if. I invited him first. Think carefully, Prince Ian?”
The two stood on either side of me, extending their hands in competition.
Ella with her snow-white skin and silver-white hair, and Alba with brown hair and brown skin—two noble beauties with perfectly opposing images, both reaching for my hand in this absurd situation.
'...If only this had happened in my past life.'
I swallowed a deep internal sigh.
Of course, my answer was to refuse them both.
I'd already promised Chloe—pinkie swear and all—that I wouldn't dance or partner with anyone at this social ball.
I had no desire to break that promise here, nor to foolishly make an enemy of one of these two great noble houses.
Friends are fine, but fewer enemies the better—that's basic social survival.
“I'm truly sorry, but thank you both so much. However, I...”
I opened my mouth, forcing the politest smile possible and choosing the gentlest refusal—
For a very brief moment, Ella stared straight into my eyes.
'...Huh?'
Suddenly, staring into her pupils, I felt an uncanny sense of wrongness.
Were the Grand Duchess Ella's eyes always... that silver? Last time I saw them, they were distinctly the imperial purple.
Deep in her pupils, I glimpsed a strange, swirling silver afterimage.
And the instant our eyes met—
“...?”
A thick fog filled my mind, reason fading into the distance, my whole body melting into a fluffy, languid cotton candy haze.
I hadn't drunk much, but it felt like I'd downed three bottles of whiskey.
The refusal on the tip of my tongue slithered back down my throat, and Ella's white hand swaying alluringly before me suddenly felt like the world's most vital lifeline.
'...I have to grab this hand. It'll make everything peaceful.'
Before I knew it, with my eyes blankly unfocused, I was raising my right hand like a mesmerized fool, reaching for Ella's.
At the hazy edge of my vision, I saw her pale face.
The Northern Grand Duchess, Her lips curled into a seductive smile., satisfied smile of assured victory, extending her hand toward mine.
“No, impossible...”
Meanwhile, Alba across from me paled in disbelief.
Seeing her face triggered an instinctive alarm, but my body wouldn't obey.
'I shouldn't reach out...'
The moment my fingertips brushed her soft glove—
“Ugh!”
My mind snapped awake.
Like plummeting from a soft dream meadow back to harsh reality, a headache spiked, and the pain cleared my head.
I jerked my extending right hand sharply toward my temple instead.
And pressed hard with my fingers.
Throb!
“...Hah.”
The sharp, intense pain in my head instantly dispersed the sweet, drowsy fog filling my mind.
Now clear-headed, I gasped raggedly and yanked my hand back.
Then, shaking my head slightly at the incredulous Ella staring at me.
“...I gratefully accept Your Highness's generous favor, but I have no intention of entering the main hall. As I told Lady Espada earlier, I've decided not to dance at this social ball. I'd be truly thankful if you'd understand.”
As I regained my senses and answered normally, Ella's leisurely expression twisted into shock for an instant.
“...How.”
“Pardon?”
“No, how could you, that shouldn't be possible...”
Alba de Espada eyed the stammering, flustered Ella suspiciously, then glared coldly as realization dawned.
“...The White Witch lives up to her nickname. Emphasizing the 'witch' part, huh. No confidence in your own charms, so you resort to magic? No noble grace at all? Pathetic.”
Instead of replying, Ella began glaring venomously at Alba.
Alba stood bristling against the Grand Duchess, who exuded such murderous hostility that the onlookers gasped and backed away.
This open hostility—far fiercer than the earlier taste—made my head throb like mad; I was going insane.
'Damn it, how do I escape this?'
As I desperately racked my brain for an excuse to flee—
“Hey, Ian!!! What're you doing there! Come on, let's head to the main hall together!”
A booming shout shattered the garden's tension from behind me.
The two women glaring murderously turned, and at the end of their gazes stood a massive muscular figure, boldly planted there.
“His Highness the Second Prince!”
Since coming to the Empire, this was the first time Second Prince Arthur felt so welcome.