Chapter 17 Engagement Ceremony (2)
The Engagement Ceremony (2)
An engagement ceremony wasn't anything particularly special. It was merely one of many banquets where the protagonist happened to exist.
A hollow, formal ritual followed by a simple exchange of rings.
"The two of you may now exchange rings."
At the words of the man who appeared to be a priest, Abel turned his gaze toward Adel. She looked as stiff as a cyborg, her face frozen—perhaps a little too tense.
Part of him wanted to pinch her cheek to snap her out of it, but he held back. Instead, he gently tugged her hand.
'Cold.'
Her fingers were pale, almost sickly white, as if drained of blood.
Then again, this engagement ceremony was a grand banquet attended by every noble of any standing. It would've been stranger if she weren't nervous.
Slowly, he slid the ring onto the fourth finger of her left hand.
In the process, he could feel her trembling like a patient with Parkinson's, and he barely suppressed the urge to laugh. Then, he stepped closer to Adel.
Taking her right hand softly, he interlaced their fingers.
At the same time, a faint "Eeeek!" echoed from somewhere in the distance—likely the excited squeals of young noblewomen who seemed particularly invested in romance.
"What are you—"
Shh.
When he flashed her a slightly roguish smile, Adel let out an involuntary chuckle. Whether it helped ease her tension or not, some of the stiffness in her expression softened.
"Your turn, Adel."
"...I know."
Though her hands still trembled slightly, she successfully slid the ring onto the fourth finger of his left hand.
Honestly, getting this worked up over a simple ring exchange...
But then again, people naturally grew tense in unfamiliar situations.
Just as that thought crossed his mind, the priest continued.
"May the blessings of the gods be upon your future together."
With those words, a sacred light descended from above. The sensation of the priest's blessing seeping into his body nearly made him grimace, but he barely managed to keep his composure.
So-called divine blessings—they weren't all that different from the Emperor's power.
"Once again, we sincerely congratulate the two of you on your engagement."
As the ceremony concluded, a ball commenced, as was customary. And at its center stood Adel and me, hands clasped, gazing at each other.
Perhaps because countless eyes were tangled in our direction, she still moved stiffly, like a wind-up doll.
Still not fully recovered, huh? At this point, she might need some extreme measures.
Thinking so, he smiled—and Adel's puzzled expression caught his eye.
"May I have this dance, Adel?"
With those words, he knelt on one knee and lightly kissed her hand.
Adel, momentarily dazed by the fluid, natural gesture, flushed crimson in an instant.
"Wh-what—"
Taking both her hands again, he began to dance. Unlike the last time, when he had practically dragged her along, this time he matched her steps, guiding her gently.
For a brief moment, Adel's face flickered with disbelief. He barely held back a chuckle at the sight.
"No need to be nervous. You're this Abel's fiancée, after all."
When he whispered those words near her ear, she closed her mouth for a moment before giving a small nod. Then, she began to lead the dance in sync with his steps.
She's improved quite a bit.
He was inwardly surprised at how much more refined her movements were compared to before.
"You've gotten much better."
"Well, someone was too good at dancing. As your fiancée, I had to catch up, didn't I?"
"Good job."
At his brief praise, her face reddened slightly.
At this point, I could call her the Blushing Young Lady.
The thought made him smirk.
"Who knew the young lady had such a cute side? I didn't expect you to be this weak to compliments."
"...Shut up. Focus on the dance."
The music of the ball had unknowingly reached its crescendo. The musicians played their instruments tirelessly, maintaining the atmosphere.
At the center of it all, Adel and I waltzed, drawing the attention of the crowd.
Though he found their stares unwelcome, it was an unavoidable necessity—after all, rumors had to solidify into fact.
Look, even now, the young ladies are hiding their mouths behind their fans, squealing in delight.
They should've been exhausted by now, but their delusions seemed endless, their faces flushed with excitement.
How much time had passed?
The ball eventually drew to a close, and the banquet began. The cycle of congratulations from provincial nobles and thinly veiled bribes disguised as gifts commenced.
To call them outright bribes would be a stretch—in grand feasts like this, failing to bring a gift would be the greater faux pas.
Maintaining a practiced smile, I mechanically accepted their congratulations—Thank you, I appreciate it, Your gift is most kind—repeating variations of the same hollow pleasantries.
This was exactly why I'd always hated engagement ceremonies, balls, and feasts alike.
'Exhausting.'
Even in my past life, I'd been an introvert—the type who fumbled awkwardly during MTs and social gatherings.
Reincarnating with a handsome face and formidable magic hadn't changed my fundamental nature, it seemed.
As I lost myself in these idle thoughts, a vaguely familiar face caught my eye.
Mysterious silver hair and golden irises that seemed to glow.
The sole young lady of House Louis, the protagonist of the original original work—that is, The Villainess Turns Back Time Today—Estelle von Louis.
And the young lady beside her... I didn't recognize her.
But something about her felt distinctly ominous.
"It's been a while. Estelle von Louis."
"...Luna von Ite."
As she gracefully curtsied, holding the edges of her dress, I felt Adel's hand tremble slightly against mine.
I couldn't be certain, but if memory served, in the original story, Adel had suffered quite the ordeal after attempting to get close to Estelle.
Feeling a pang of sympathy for her, I squeezed her trembling hand reassuringly.
"...It's been a while. Adel von Este."
Adel inclined her head slightly, observing proper etiquette. Perhaps my gesture had steadied her—her voice was calmer now, if still faintly unsteady.
"I sincerely congratulate you both on your engagement, Lady Este."
"Thank you."
The face of the girl who had just introduced herself as Luna twisted slightly.
She was gripping her wineglass so tightly I half-expected her to shatter it. Surely she wouldn't be foolish enough to act on impulse—not when standing before a duke of the Empire.
But even as I silently willed her not to make a mistake, the wineglass tilted unmistakably in our direction.
Adel, oblivious to the girl's expression, was still exchanging pleasantries with Estelle.
'This is why I hate RoFan.'
I raised my other arm, shielding Adel. The wine never reached her face—instead, it splashed across my pristine white uniform, staining it crimson.
Adel's eyes widened in shock at the sudden turn of events.
The musicians played on, but all conversation had ceased. In the suffocating silence, Lady Ite's face drained of color.
I didn't know what had driven her to this—whether it was some damned RoFan trope or sheer madness blinding her judgment.
But this wasn't something I could let slide.
"Lady Ite."
"...H-hic!"
At my voice, Lady Ite let out a series of hiccups. Even Estelle beside her seemed stunned by the outburst, her lips parting slightly.
Well, if the original story held true, Estelle wasn't exactly a villainess—so this couldn't have been her doing.
"You know what must be done."
"I—I'm sorry!"
Lady Ite immediately bowed at the waist, her apology frantic. Adel, meanwhile, stood frozen, as if her mind hadn't yet caught up.
Somehow, her hesitation irked me.
"What would you have me do, Adel?"
"I—I..."
Before the trembling, sweat-drenched girl, Adel bit her lip slightly.
Had this been the villainess everyone knew, she wouldn't have hesitated—she'd have tormented Lady Ite without a second thought, whether through words or force.
But the Adel standing here now was the protagonist of Akshidol.
"...I'll forgive you. Just don't do this again."
Estelle's eyes widened—in another sense entirely. She nearly gasped, only to snap her mouth shut again in haste.
Given that most attendees were provincial nobles, few seemed particularly shocked by Adel's mercy.
"Th-thank you! Lady Este, thank you!"
"Leave."
The moment I spoke, Lady Ite scrambled away.
She might have escaped immediate consequences, but she had to know—what she'd just done wouldn't end here.
'...The major plot points never change, do they?'
In the original, it hadn't been her who'd thrown the wine—just some forgettable noble girl whose name I couldn't recall.
Was this fate's way of insisting that what must happen will happen?
"Are you all right?"
"...Yes."
She clearly wasn't.
Then again, facing malice so directly was still unfamiliar to her.
Perhaps it was for the best. The Adel of the original, eroded by malice, had been terrifying in her icy madness.