One Dance with the Saintess
That magazine… it ran pretty hot, all things considered.
Even after Camilla withdrew with that odd look on her face, the socializing pressed on without pause.
Next came Liora Greenfield, branch head of the Valentia Merchant Guild.
She held the post of branch manager here in Belhart—the city that housed Belheim Academy. Young as she was, the girl sat in a key seat of the guild, and the surname Greenfield had already sparked whispers that she might be family, or at least blood, to the nameless guildmaster the world called a witch.
For all that, the young woman with her light-green hair tied up in twintails…
She wore a face full of mischief and played at looking far younger than her station. It was hard to believe she truly ran the Belhart branch. Then she launched into a running commentary on the kinds and quantities of goods flowing into the Academy, on prices, on taxes—and the doubt began to fade.
“I’d prefer you take those matters up with the Headmaster.”
“Ah! My apologies, y’know. Caught myself fretting over what I ought to say in front of the Saintess, and it just slipped out! So then—”
“Um… by any chance, that magazine called Daily Novel…”
Hm?
“Ah! You know Daily Novel! That’s the flagship periodical our guild’s been pushing lately~ It’s one of our hottest sellers these days, too.”
“Ah, yes. Yes! That one.”
“The Saintess has quite the interest in worldly affairs, I see—only, that magazine runs rather high on the heat, doesn’t it…?”
So the magazine Erina was always reading came from the guild this woman belonged to.
She takes the knowledge from Daily Novel and fills in the missing experience through me, is that it?
“…Ahem. Ahem. As you say. For a Saintess who lives practically buried in her duties, it is simply one of the principal means by which she takes the pulse of the world and the people’s mood. It is, after all, the Valentia Merchant Guild’s flagship product, is it not?”
Search the Empire—search the whole continent—and you still would not find another trading house on Valentia’s scale.
At any rate, if I did not throw up some kind of cover…
Strange rumors could start circulating.
Who knew how that magazine would write up everything it had heard today.
Anything that could spin off in a weird direction had to be cut off at the root.
“Ah—aaaah! So then—! What would you have us do about it, y’know? If the content’s too crude, we could always bar it from entry, or—”
As if.
“—No. That isn’t it. The cycle by which it arrives at the Academy is simply too slow. It tends to lag by at least two or three issues, and I’d like it coming in on time.”
“Aha… is that so…?”
She was minding her manners in front of the Saintess, but her expression alone made it obvious her mind was already spinning circles. The corners of her mouth—and even the corners of her eyes—had curled up just a little. Clearly this conversation was deliciously entertaining to her.
Her seat was high enough among the merchants that she had earned an invitation to today’s social gathering—yet she was no noble, and the outfit she had chosen for the evening left a great deal exposed.
The cut that laid her upper chest bare, for one.
The dress that left her legs on full display, for another.
It was the opposite of Camilla, who had at least kept those heavy breasts tucked away behind a knight’s uniform.
She’s got the figure to walk around flaunting it, I’ll give her that, but… ahem. Still a bit much for a stiff affair like this social gathering.
“Even so, this is Belheim Academy—supposedly the finest in the Empire. We can hardly have the students chasing trends that have already passed them by.”
All the while, Erina was desperately explaining why Daily Novel had to be brought into the Academy on a regular schedule—and doing her level best to make it sound legitimate.
It’s just you, Erina. You just want to read the new issues as soon as they come out.
I had to fight the urge to press a hand to my forehead.
“Oho… I understand perfectly, y’know! I’ll gratefully accept the Saintess’s generous interest and make sure that feedback gets applied, I will.”
Liora Greenfield flashed a sly, playful smile and left the audience chamber.
The night of the social gathering in the grand banquet hall stretched long.
The nobles who had come still had light in their eyes; they still tasted the wine and the food, still lost themselves in conversation with the other guests who had come to pay their respects.
The audiences with Saintess Erina had begun in the early evening and rolled on until the night grew deep and the mood thickened—then the event shifted into its middle and later stages, and the masquerade began.
The ball that started partway through the social gathering.
Since no one had been masked from the beginning, it could hardly be called true anonymity. All anyone wore were those festival masks that covered little more than the area around the eyes—what people commonly called Venetian masks.
But pretending not to know someone even when you did—that was the noble game.
Which was why, once the masks went on, asking after rank or name was considered poor manners.
Most of the people in the hall had already found partners, taken each other’s hands, and begun to dance, while Saintess Erina simply watched them from the seat of honor.
She wore no mask, of course.
Who would dare invite today’s guest of honor—the Saintess herself—to dance? If she turned you down, how would you ever live down the shame?
But I stepped into Erina’s line of sight, went down on one knee, held out my hand, and said:
“Would you honor me with a dance?”
I had not even raised my voice.
And yet every gaze in the room seemed to swing toward me—no, toward us.
Not that anyone was staring outright…
Even so, their ears would be pricked, tracking every move we made.
Noble curiosity was like that.
I did not think there was malice in it. These were people who had already tasted and owned so much… How many things could there really be left to fill their dopamine?
That did not mean I intended to let Erina become just another scrap of their gossip.
So I was going to make this moment the highest place in the room.
“…No. I decline.”
What.
“….”
Just as Erina’s unexpected answer put a hairline crack in my composure—
“I can hardly simply receive a proposal from someone like Sir Kyle.”
Excuse me?
“……”
I held the words that kept trying to climb off my tongue, lips working, and forced them back down—until Erina rose from her seat, came to stand before me where I still knelt on one knee, and stretched out her hand.
“If it is not too bold… would you dance a piece with me?”
Now the eyes of the entire hall truly…
Saintess Erina’s dance drew a tremendous response.
Our dance, carried out at the center of the hall under every watching eye.
It lasted barely three minutes, but when the music ended, admiration and praise broke out from every side.
All of it thanks to the practice we had managed—even if it had only been a week or so.
Truth be told, the one whose dancing was lacking had been me.
I knew nothing about dancing, and Kyle’s life had not exactly been full of occasions that called for it either, so there had been no help to draw on there.
Erina, on the other hand—call it technique or fundamentals—had a quiet competence about her.
Had that magazine she poured over every day carried tips on social dances, too?
At any rate, matching our steps had not been easy…
I thought I was going to die…
Whew. At least it was over now.
Once the dance ended, Erina left the banquet hall and withdrew.
I slipped out onto a balcony for a brief rest, masking my face like everyone else, and stared into empty air, zoning out.
Honestly, I’ve done more than enough by now…
The Saintess’s departure did not end the gathering at once, so the floor was still a whirl of dancing—but there was no need for me to wade back into that crowd and kill time spinning partners.
By this hour the masquerade was little more than noble amusement.
From here on it was an event that had little enough to do with the Saintess… or so I told myself.
The wine… was this even any good?
“I can’t tell.”
I was killing time with a critical review of wine that did not even suit my palate when—
Creeeak.
Someone opened the door and stepped out onto the balcony where I was resting.
“My. It seems someone was already here.”
…A woman?
At the woman’s voice that arrived with the sound of the door, I turned.
Neat, prettily cut short hair, a mask, a dress—she was a woman. Her hair was the same cheese color as Sol, the cat I kept at home…
No. Orange? A fierce, vivid orange, maybe.
Either way, the impression she left was… deep.
The mask kept me from reading her whole face, but that was all there was to it.
A stranger, at the end of the day.
I had no reason and no need to give her more attention, so I snapped my head back around and returned to whatever I had been looking at.
Some noble house’s daughter, maybe.
Even if she were not a noble, there were cases like that Valentia branch manager—Liora Greenfield—who could still get in. Anyone without an invitation or permission could not set foot here in the first place.
“You’re not going to answer me?”
“…….”
When I kept refusing to reply, the woman must have found it dull, because she started demanding an answer from me herself.
“Hellooo~?”
She came right up beside me where I stood against the balcony rail and leaned her face in.
“…….”
“You’re really no fun at all—nya.”
“……?”
…Nya?
What was that supposed to be.
“Ah. Excuse me. Sorry? It’s just a bit of a habit of mine, that’s all.”
“Kindly lose interest in me and go take care of whatever business you came for.”
“Now you finally pay attention? That was hard work~. Nya. Ugh… nn… ah… why does it keep—”
All that nya-nya-ing… definitely not some noble young lady.
Cute in a small way, maybe…
Still, pouring affection into a one-day acquaintance I would never see again at a place like this was a thoroughly bad idea.
“…….”
So I tried once more to shut her out—only for her to keep talking from right beside me.
A woman who did not know the meaning of giving up.
“How about a dance with me?”
“I don’t know how to dance.”
“Come on~. Liar~.”
“…What.”
“But it doesn’t matter, does it? You never know. Maybe you’ve got a hidden talent for dancing.”
…What is she even talking about?
“Enough of the nonsense. If you want a partner, look for one on the floor. There are plenty better than me.”
“As if? I want to dance with the gentleman standing right next to me this very moment. I have no interest in the people inside, you know?”
“Why are you being so—!”
She seemed not to understand the concept of moderation, so I was about to raise the pressure a notch and tell her off to her face—when my eyes caught it.
With one finger she had casually tugged down the bodice of her dress, just enough that one nipple peeked—no.
Peeked was the polite word. From my eye level, that thick, pink areola and nipple had already slipped free of the cloth and were fully in view.
“What the……?”
“Who knows? Once the dance is over, there might be something even more fun waiting.”
With those words, the last thin thread of reason I had been clinging to snapped clean through.