The Patran Family Party (6)
"...Lady Patran?"
Confusion was written plainly across Prince Serlan's face, as if he had just come face to face with something he was never meant to encounter.
"Would you care to answer me?"
Under normal circumstances, Joy would have patiently waited for the other party to collect himself and respond. Not today. She urged an answer out of him in a voice that was unusually, almost unnaturally, cold.
"...Ah. Well, you see, at this festival I was able to see Lady Arln in a whole new light. I was simply offering my admiration."
Only moments ago, Prince Serlan's face had been flushed scarlet from my taunting—but from the instant Joy appeared, his entire expression changed.
His face had drained to the pallor of a corpse.
I couldn't make sense of it. Was Joy really that frightening? Her appearance was admittedly icy, but underneath it all she was the Airhead Lady, wasn't she?
Why would Prince Serlan—himself from a ducal house, and clearly years her senior—be sweating bullets in her presence?
"I see. Thank you, Lord Serlan. For passing along such kind words about my friend."
"It was merely my duty."
"If you have nothing further to say, would you kindly leave? I have matters to discuss with my friend. In private."
The prince's lips mumbled around a dozen unspoken words, but none of them ever made it past his teeth. Only after he reluctantly withdrew did Joy lower the fan she had been holding over her mouth.
"Lady Arln. With people like that, just drive them off. Don't stand around watching how long they'll linger."
What did that man do?
"Airhead Lady. What exactly did that pervert prince do to earn all that?"
"You don't know?"
Of course I didn't. Wasn't that guy barely even mentioned in the game?
House Serlan itself had never been a particularly major faction, for that matter.
Fourth son of Serlan, was it? I racked my memory, but nothing worthwhile came up.
If a character carried any real weight in the game, I generally had their name memorized—and their face too, if they had an illustration. Even so, dredging up anything about Serlan's fourth son proved difficult.
Guess he really was a nobody.
"...Ah. Right. Lady Arln wouldn't be familiar with this sort of thing."
Nodding to herself, Joy explained that the man had caused a major scandal not long ago.
"Because of that incident, he's on the verge of being disowned by his family, so he's desperate to smooth things over somehow."
Only then did it click. The fourth son of Serlan. He was that guy—every time anyone from House Serlan showed up, the story was always about how they suffered because of their hopeless little brother! So it was him!
"By the time we graduate from the Academy, you'll never have to see him again, so there's no need to worry about him."
With that, Joy closed the topic of Serlan's fourth son for good.
At the Academy, no matter what she did, all I ever thought was how airheaded and adorable she was—but seen like this, she really did have the poise of a duke's daughter.
That was pretty cool, Joy.
"Hey, Airhead Lady. Are you pretending to be cool right now? Like, 'Look how amazing I am~'?"
"Wh-what?! Not at all..."
Huh. She totally was?!
So deep down, Joy was thinking, aren't I kind of awesome just now?
I take back what I said about it being cool. Joy, you are, now and always, the Airhead Lady.
My gaze turning lukewarm, Joy cleared her throat with an awkward cough.
"Ahem. In any case, Lady Arln—you don't have anything you need to do right now, do you?"
No.
"Yeah, and?"
"Would you come with me for a moment? My father says he has something he wishes to tell you."
Duke Patran? Why him? Was this about the poisoning incident?
If it was, then this time I would finally become the frail, dying mesugaki. I'd knock myself out with my own two hands if I had to!
The place Joy led me to was a drawing room just outside the party hall. Waiting there was not only Duke Patran but Benedict as well. So that's where he'd vanished to after the party began—with the Duke, all along.
Those two huddled together gave off an unbelievable atmosphere. It was like a crime syndicate boss sitting beside his enforcer.
If someone told me they'd just been discussing whom to bury, I'd have believed it without a second thought.
Maybe because this was my first time seeing Benedict since the Tabol incident—his lips worked as if he had plenty to say, but he kept it all behind his teeth.
"Father, as you requested, I've brought Lady Arln."
It was Joy who broke the silence in the room. Perhaps it wasn't my imagination, but at the unusually sharp edge in her tone, Duke Patran gave a wry smile.
"Good work, Joy. You may return to the party now."
"No. I'll be staying here. That's acceptable, isn't it?"
"...Very well. Suit yourself."
What? Did Joy hit her rebellious phase? Why is she suddenly in dad, I hate you mode?!
I had no idea what was going on anymore, but since Joy moved to sit first, I followed her lead and took a chair.
"Forgive me for pulling you away mid-celebration, Lady Arln. There's something I wished to discuss with you in private."
It's quite all right.
"It's fine, Careless Duke. It was all just a bunch of small-fry in there anyway—I was bored out of my mind."
"Then I'm glad to hear it. Now, the matter I wished to convey. Yes. I owe you an apology, Lady Arln. I put you through needless hardship for my own sake."
Why was this man apologizing to me?
At first I could only tilt my head at him in confusion, but as his explanation unfolded, my understanding shifted entirely.
So the reason Duke Patran had all but forced a festival speech out of me was to gauge how I'd handle trouble!
Hey! Old man! Is this how you treat your daughter's friend?!
Where exactly does this tiny, adorable girl look like someone you get to torment like this?!
Wait. Could it be...?
Don't tell me you actually hated being called the Careless Duke?!'
"Don't tell me, oh Careless Duke—you pulled some petty little stunt because you couldn't stand the nickname I gave you? To think the man leading a ducal house could be so small-minded."
"As if that could ever be the case! Lady Arln, you are the benefactor who saved Joy's very life! Would I stoop to something so churlish over a mere nickname? Why, I genuinely adore being called the Careless Duke—there is no conceivable reason for me to bear a grudge!"
After that torrent of passionate declaration, the Duke at last revealed his reason for orchestrating the whole affair.
So, to sum it up—Joy seemed to follow me a little too devotedly, and he wanted to evaluate whether I was truly someone she could place her complete trust in?
As he explained how unexpected complications had kept snowballing until the whole thing ballooned out of proportion, I found myself remembering exactly why this man was treated as a gag character in the community.
Duke Patran was without question a capable man, with the power and authority to back that ability up—yet the moment he tried to take proactive initiative on anything, something always went sideways.
Listening to his story, one meme after another from the old forums kept surfacing in my mind, and the laughter kept bubbling up until staying angry became an impossibility.
Besides, the matter was resolved, I'd received his apology, and he'd promised separate compensation on top of it. There was no longer any reason to be angry.
Still—if the Duke was the one behind all this, did that mean it had nothing to do with the First Prince?
And here I was, a hundred percent certain he was the mastermind! The guy who swooped in and pocketed all the profit at the end had no involvement whatsoever? Isn't that dereliction of duty?!
"We'll discuss your compensation at a later date. Handle it carelessly now, and the conversation may still be dragging on when the party ends."
With those words, the Duke sent us on our way back.
On the walk back to the party hall, Joy offered me an apology of her own.
From what I gathered, she had been summoned by her father right before the party began, and there his magic had bound her completely, leaving her unable to move so much as a finger.
By the time she somehow broke free and made it back to the hall, Tabol had already raised his voice.
So it wasn't for nothing that Joy was so cold toward her father. This was the kind of matter that would make even the most saintly person lose their temper.
"I'm truly sorry, Lady Arln."
Her apology carried layers of unspoken meaning. An apology for what her father had done. An apology for failing to come to my aid sooner. And no doubt several others I couldn't even begin to guess at.
There was nothing but sincerity in her words—yet I didn't welcome the apology at all.
Because none of this had been Joy's fault to begin with.
Why are you apologizing?
"Airhead Lady. Why are you making those silly crying noises instead of actually talking?"
"...I'm sorry?"
If anything, this is the kind of situation where I should be thanking you.
"I don't get you. You save someone, and then you go all meek and wilty about it. Evolving from plain Airhead into Timid Airhead now, are we?"
"So I'm not even worth calling a Lady anymore?!"
Fair enough. Guess she'd gotten too airheaded to deserve the title of Lady at all.
As Joy's reaction sent me giggling, inside and out, she too was soon smiling along with me.
Still a ferocious, borderline-violent smile, admittedly. But it beat watching her curl up in misery.
Once I'd cheered Joy back up and we returned together, the party was in full, roaring swing.
The soaring, beautiful swell of an orchestra. Nobles gliding through dance at the center of the hall. Around them, cliques clustered together, erupting in laughter.
I was still marveling at a scene straight out of a movie when a sigh drifted over from beside me.
"Forgive me, Lady Arln. It seems something needs my attention."
With that, Joy headed off toward a cluster of noble daughters whose eyes were shooting daggers at one another.
Did ducal daughters really have to deal with this sort of thing too? Well, Joy was the leader of all those noble heiresses, after all. She had to look after them.
I would have loved to help her if I could, but if I wedged myself into the middle of that, the only thing I'd accomplish was adding to her workload.
So I quietly made my way to a corner of the party hall.
Keeping myself out of everyone's sight was a service to Joy in itself, wasn't it?
Maybe it was all the excitement crammed into such a short span of time, but I was hungry. Craving something sweet, specifically.
There seemed to be some delicious-looking desserts around the hall—maybe I'd just plant myself in a corner and munch on those.
Heading toward the food with exactly that in mind, I ran into Frey and her little sister.
Frey, piling her plate full to the brim for what had to be the umpteenth time as though her stomach had a hole in it, and her sister scolding her for it—a genuinely refreshing sight.
Shouldn't these two still be at the awkward, tiptoeing-around-each-other stage?
"Unnie! You're listening, right?!... Oh. Lady Arln."
"Hey, Lucy."
Frey's sister, who'd been mid-shout, clamped her mouth shut in a panic the moment she saw me, while Frey offered nothing more than a wave of the tongs she was still holding.
Was she seriously planning to single-handedly demolish every scrap of food in this hall?
I knew Frey could put it away, but not to this extent.
No matter how I looked at it, this girl belonged in the modern era. She'd have absolutely dominated as a mukbang streamer.
"Um! Lady Arln!"
As I stood there staring at Frey in open astonishment, her sister stepped up in front of me.
"Thank you! For turning our unnie back into a human being!"
And then, without warning, she bowed her head deep.
That was no casual greeting. It was a bow of full, trembling force—the kind you'd offer a savior who'd pulled you back from the brink.