The Truth Called "If"
Even if eras change, the insular culture of the upper echelons remains unchanged. From ancient times, through the medieval age, and right up to this very moment. The names might differ, but high society has always existed—a select few, bound tightly together. And the higher the rank, the more unbreakable those bonds become.
The Lenz School PTA meeting. With the debutante ball approaching, the school had convened a gathering for parents. Leo dressed neatly and headed to the salon where it was being held.
He had never attended one before. It was a hassle, but more than that, he knew the atmosphere there didn't welcome him. Years ago, when Elizabeth was in her first year, he'd gone with her once. But they'd been met with cold shoulders simply because he wasn't nobility. After that, he'd stayed away.
This time was different, though. Elizabeth's debutante ball—her first step into society. With such an important event looming, if he, her father, was absent, the icy stares she'd face were all too predictable.
"Welcome, Lord Leo Valentine."
The salon sat in the heart of a garden bursting with flowers. A small, pristine lake, round tables elegantly set, sunlight filtering through—it was a scene of perfect tranquility, like a painting come to life. At each table, parents sat chatting over tea and pastries.
What stood out was that they were all women. Leo was the only man there.
...Maybe I shouldn't have come. Regret flickered through him, but it was too late now. And soon enough, the parents' eyes turned to him. He offered a simple greeting and carefully took an empty seat.
"Hello. I'm Leo Valentine, Elizabeth's father."
"Nice to meet you, Mr. Valentine. We've heard so much about Miss Elizabeth. Top of the bar exam recently, wasn't it?"
"Truly impressive~"
The parents showered him with kind words. It was a world away from a few years ago. Back then, he was just the commoner dad. Now, he was the father of the top student overall. Thanks to Elizabeth, his standing had risen too.
"By the way, doesn't Eli still lack a boyfriend or fiancé?"
"Oh my! That's such a shame. What will she do for the debutante, then?"
"Isn't it a pity for a girl that age to have never dated? I have a cousin who's just perfect—shall I introduce her?"
"Goodness~ Why stick to her age group? Women should date older men, ideally. Leo, I have a younger brother? But he looks so young. You'd swear he's in his late twenties."
"Wasn't your brother forty? Even so, isn't that too big an age gap for an eighteen-year-old?"
"W-well, I was just asking~"
Of course. They were slyly angling for Elizabeth. She might be a commoner, but setting that aside, she was an alluring marriage prospect. Beautiful, young, brilliant. A genius in every field imaginable.
"Haha, I think I'll let my daughter choose for herself."
I smiled and made my refusal clear.
"Exactly. Just let them meet first. You never know—sparks might fly, and who knows, marriage could follow."
But the persistent mom wouldn't let up, pushing her cousin again. I repeated myself.
"I'd love to, but Elizabeth isn't thinking about dating or marriage yet. She's focused on her lawyer work."
In truth, Elizabeth had never said any such thing. But right now, it was the line I had to sell.
"Aw, still..."
"I respect Miss Elizabeth's wishes."
The quiet voice came from Lady Baldek, sipping tea under her maid's parasol. The table fell silent. Especially the one who'd been hawking her cousin—she clamped her mouth shut like a clamshell.
House Baldek—one of the kingdom's four great families, a colossal power. When its matriarch backed me, the parents simply gave up.
I met the old lady's eyes. Ever since her daughter-in-law died in a carriage accident, she'd been attending these meetings in her granddaughter's stead. Our gazes crossed briefly; she nodded subtly and looked away.
The awkward air soon thawed, and conversation flowed again.
"Have you all heard? Duke Rollingel is attending the debutante."
"Oh yes! He rarely shows in society, so it's been ages."
"Apparently because he's partnering with Her Highness the princess."
The talk shifted to Duke Rollingel.
"Sigh... My daughter is in a frenzy to dance with him somehow."
"Mine too. She's buying perfumes she never used before and even had a custom dress made at the salon."
I'd heard the name. The young duke, the princess's fiancé. A frequent face in the papers, famed for his looks but tangled in scandals—mostly women troubles.
He won't get too close to Eli, will he?
I brushed off the needless worry, exchanged greetings with the parents, and left the salon.
*
After that talk in the principal's office, I'd sent a letter to the king via Felix—since I couldn't send it directly, of course. I'd dressed up the refusal of his proposal in every flowery phrase imaginable. Whether it worked, no incidents followed. Still, I didn't fully relax.
"You're on guard duty that day?"
"Yes."
Hildegard answered at dinner that evening.
"With the royals, His Grace the duke, and most nobles attending, I've been assigned as a soldier."
"I see..."
"Has Ellie still not found a partner?"
"Sadly. Honestly, dancing with me would be best."
I toyed with Hildegard's long black hair in my palm, rubbing it with my thumb. At my words, she replied with a strangely choked expression.
"Elizabeth... she really seems to adore you, Leo."
"Hah, tell me about it. She still can't sleep alone—insists on bunking with me."
"..."
Hildegard's face subtly hardened.
"Then, perhaps..."
"Hm? What?"
She looked into Leo's blue eyes but couldn't bring herself to say it.
"...It's nothing."
"Tease. See you then, anyway."
"Yes, until that day."
They embraced and parted.
*
The next day, Leo brought Elizabeth to the salon.
"We're here to have a dress made for her debutante in a few days."
"We take reservations only... No, please, come in."
The madame, who'd started to refuse, flipped the moment she saw Elizabeth.
"This way, please."
She led Elizabeth to the fitting room. Leo passed the time browsing the hanging dresses. Soon, the madame returned, her expression grave.
"On my thirty years as a designer, I stake my name to deliver a masterpiece to the lady. You won't be disappointed, sir."
"Ah... Sure."
Whatever it was, it didn't sound bad.
"No charge."
"Pardon?"
What now?
"Having this lady wear our brand is payment enough."
"I-is that so."
"Yes. I'd pay her to wear it, if anything."
The madame gazed at Elizabeth in rapture and handed over her card.
"For the debutante, match it with perfume and accessories. Two blocks right from here—a perfumery, then a jeweler next door. Both trustworthy; I recommend them."
"And this card?"
"I have a slight acquaintance with their owners. Show it, and you'll get top service."
It looked legit enough. Still skeptical, I asked,
"Why go this far?"
The madame paused, slowly closing then opening her eyes.
"...I saw it."
"?"
"That day, the angel descending."
Enraptured, she stared at Elizabeth with awe. In thirty years of work, she'd never witnessed someone's beauty rewriting the world's standards. The golden-haired girl in white—a masterpiece, an ideal.
"We'll contact you once the sample's ready."
Leo and Elizabeth left, bought perfume and jewels. Astonishingly, the same reaction there—no charge, just pleas to wear them.
Debutante prep wrapped up in a flash.
On the way home, as dusk settled over the streets, a chill night breeze brushed their faces, stirring something deep in Leo's chest. Not mere wind, not a passing feeling. A prick of conscience, swelling guilt, buried fear.
Suddenly, an impulse he couldn't put into words gripped him.
"Daughter."
"Yes, Dad."
Elizabeth turned to her father. Her eyes brimmed with the usual trust and love.
"If—just suppose, really if."
But the words from Leo's mouth were forbidden, irreversible.
"What if I weren't your dad?"