Chapter 53
Chapter 53
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Translator: uly
Chapter: 53
Chapter Title: The Princess's Coming-of-Age Ceremony (4)
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Once again, the man and woman who stole everyone's attention walked into the center of the banquet hall.
Broad shoulders, thick eyebrows, and a friendly face shape.
The mischievous glint in his eyes made the women's hearts flutter.
Especially striking were their black outfits and masks that evoked bats.
The woman walking beside him wore an outfit that boldly exposed her sides and waist, a stark contrast to the other women who cinched themselves with corsets before draping dresses over to cover up.
The daring exposure and enchanting lines drew all the men's gazes.
"Smile, Isabella. This is our chance to flatten the noses of those central nobles who look down on us provincials."
"...I feel like my own nose is about to flatten."
Isabella barely calmed her twitching facial muscles.
This was the outfit they'd picked after visiting tailors and outfitters in the capital. She'd reworked one of her existing dresses because it was impossible to digest otherwise.
'Liar. It's all covered up!'
She'd been convinced this was standard capital party attire.
—These days, all the central noble ladies expose this much. If you cover up too much, they'll mock you as country bumpkins.
Isabella shot a resentful glare at her brother who'd come with her.
Looking around the hall, she felt utterly scammed.
Almost every woman wore long trains of dresses. Cinching the waist and chest with corsets to accentuate them seemed to be the trend.
By contrast, Isabella's dress had a short hem.
Not flared, but clinging close like a skirt.
Thanks to the deep cutouts, it was an outfit only someone with a naturally good figure could wear.
Thank goodness it was a masked ball; otherwise, she'd have died of embarrassment.
'Has Your Highness not arrived yet?'
Isabella furtively scanned her surroundings.
His distinctive hair and eye color couldn't be hidden by clothes.
Anyone would recognize him at a glance, yet no one even remotely similar caught her eye, no matter how hard she looked.
"My, the beauties here are all exceptional. Even with faces covered, their radiance shines through. This is one clear difference from the provinces."
"Brother Izar. Don't cause any trouble."
Izar was Isabella's brother.
As the next heir responsible for the family, he was capable in many ways and on good terms with the territory's people, but his one flaw was his excessive fondness for women.
"Princess Carmel is beautiful too. Perfect. Sitting idly in a place like this would shame our house."
"Brother? You don't mean...?"
"I'll be right back."
Izar buzzed off toward Princess Carmel like a bee to a flower, grinning with excitement.
The princess didn't seem displeased, quickly blooming into conversation with him.
Left alone, Isabella felt a wave of dizziness.
She could only pray Izar wouldn't stir up trouble. Even with his womanizing ways, she trusted he'd have the sense not to overstep with a princess.
"Lady, you look lonely."
"How about a drink and some honest talk...?"
The moment Izar stepped away, men swarmed her.
Isabella sighed.
Those invited by the princess were all big shots. But a guaranteed-status venue didn't change the nature of socializing.
If anything, the security made some even bolder.
Men and women alike.
"Thank you for the offer, but I'm fine. I'd prefer to be alone."
She'd wrapped "get lost" as politely as possible.
Afterward, Isabella continued fending off men's advances. Wondering if her outfit was the issue—should she change now?—when...
Thud.
The orchestra's music cut off abruptly.
The lights illuminating the banquet hall flickered out one by one.
"Sudden mood shift?"
"Ooh!"
The nobles cheered, assuming it was a pre-planned imperial event.
Bwooo.
One musician blew a trumpet, followed by a grand, majestic melody.
"A march at a social party? That's fresh."
"Who's debuting to get this kind of tune?"
And it was a march, no less.
A march at a party? Only someone intent on killing the vibe would choose that.
The nobles praised it as unique and novel, but Princess Carmel's eyes trembled nonstop.
'This isn't the song I prepared.'
She'd curated it entirely from her favorite pieces.
No grim battlefield march like this. She'd swear on the heavens she never requested it.
The orchestra wouldn't defy a princess's orders on their own.
Noon was free time; even Emperor Deus wouldn't arrive until later.
This change was abnormal.
Unless someone above the princess—someone far more terrifying—intervened.
Ah.
It hit her like a hammer to the head.
'Reinhardt...!'
Excluding the emperor, only one person fit.
The palace's true terror, whom even they feared more than her.
Crown Prince Reinhardt.
But entry required a pair holding invitations.
She'd assumed he wouldn't bother showing.
Even if he did, she'd fine-tuned every song and light to clash with his dark vibe.
Yet he'd overridden it all.
To suit himself.
Praying it wasn't so, she stared at the entrance.
"Wh-what?"
"Crown Prince Reinhardt?"
"What style of suit is that?"
"Dark elf...?!"
All eyes converged.
How could they not?
Reinhardt's appearance was impossible to miss anyway.
Black hair and black eyes—colors unseen in the imperial family.
Much less his unique aura, impossible to imitate.
Even masked, it screamed him to her.
'That damn attention whore!'
Already conspicuous, and now with entrance music and flashy clothes to boot.
His outfit stood out from the other nobles.
Most noblemen's attire was similar.
Doublets or shirts topped with padded coats boasting wide sleeves.
Bottoms were pumpkin-like baggy pants tucked into boots.
They flaunted wealth with jeweled buttons and gem-laden necklaces.
Uniformed nobles varied only in color; designs were uniform.
But Crown Prince Reinhardt's clothes were different.
A black suit over his shirt. The jacket's chest folded neatly along the lines, reaching his knees.
Black pants extended to his ankles. No flash, but the knee line gave it a crisp, clean elegance.
Topped with a black cloak, its shoulder fur adding mood, he seemed from another world entirely.
Princess Carmel had never seen such a style.
'Cleaner than I thought...?'
No dangling jewels, no necklace.
No added ostentation paradoxically drew more eyes.
Anyone else wearing it would've been ridiculed.
"What's stylish about an outfit without a shred of flair?" they'd scoff.
But it was the crown prince. Untouchable, appearing in a style utterly alien to noble norms.
And not just that.
'A dark elf?'
The woman at Reinhardt's side wore a silvery dress like a mermaid's scales, clinging to her form.
Pointed ears and skin confirmed: dark elf.
On the brink of extinction, her mysterious race gained even more allure from the dress, wielding irresistible magic.
Princess Carmel ground her teeth.
The moment he appeared, she knew the spotlight had shifted.
This was no longer her coming-of-age; it was Reinhardt's debut.
No one could've missed it was him, plain mask or not.
In the end, Princess Carmel had no choice but to approach.
"You came after all, Your Highness Reinhardt."
"It's a masked ball. Shouldn't I keep my identity secret?"
The gall from the guy who'd changed the music.
Princess Carmel turned away.
"But who might this be? I never sent an invitation to a dark elf."
No invited noble house had a dark elf daughter.
Suspicion was inevitable.
Even if one did, would she pair with Reinhardt?
"Surely you didn't bring a slave just to attend the ball?"
If she existed, she had to be a slave.
The empire banned slavery by law, but nobles indulged secretly.
Dark elves were top-tier.
Nobles would line up, worth a castle each.
Disguising a slave as a noble lady by breaking the law.
Did he think no one would call him out? Princess Carmel couldn't let it slide.
If true, the crown prince's prestige would plummet.
"Why no answer? Did I hit the mark?"
Clap clap clap!
Then.
Someone shattered the silence, applauding as they approached.
"Hoho. Arel, I almost didn't recognize you."
Hearing that voice, Princess Carmel froze.
'Gra-Grand Duke Persephone?'
That itchy timbre belonged to Grand Duke Persephone, the man she feared most among all nobles.
A hat covering his ears and a full-face mask had thrown her off.
Removing his mask, Grand Duke Persephone introduced her to the princess.
"Forgive the late introduction. She's a child I took in long ago, Your Highness."
"......"
Her head spun.
The world whirled around her.
What was he saying?
She'd never heard Grand Duke Persephone had children.
So, an adopted daughter?
Even adopted, if taken in by a grand duke, she was nobility.
And she'd just called her a 'slave'...
'I'm done for.'
Princess Carmel's face twitched uncontrollably.
Grand Duke Persephone was famous for using formal speech with all nobles.
Mistake that for deference to your authority, and you're finished.
His formality hid emotions from foes.
Act rudely assuming superiority, and tomorrow you're gone.
Come to think of it, Grand Duke Persephone was a dark elf too.
Her words equated all dark elves to slaves.
"Grand Duke Persephone's adopted daughter?"
"Why is she with Crown Prince Reinhardt?"
The nobles panicked too.
Crown Prince Reinhardt escorting Grand Duke Persephone's adopted daughter.
What did that mean?
'They're allied?'
'Is Grand Duke Persephone backing the crown prince?'
'Wasn't he neutral?'
'How does this shake up the succession?'
The nobles' minds reeled.
The neutral giant stood with Reinhardt.
The crown prince—once deemed worthless—suddenly loomed large.
"I-I'm sorry, Grand Duke. I'must have been mistaken."
Princess Carmel backed down.
Push further, and her coming-of-age or not, today could be her last.
Her words could've offended him gravely; if he took umbrage, the imperial family would have to disown her.
'I absolutely can't let that happen!'
She'd rather marry that frog-faced prince from Katullu Kingdom and be shipped to the boonies.
"No, Your Highness. Rather, I'm sorry for spoiling the masked ball."
Masked balls thrived on secrecy.
Yet Grand Duke Persephone had unmasked.
"It's fine. Really."
Princess Carmel was desperate.
But bowing only to him wouldn't suffice.
She had to reset everything. To do that...
"...Your Highness Reinhardt, my eyes must have played tricks. On second thought, I did send the proper invitation."
She bowed to Reinhardt too.
And to the lady beside him.
Such humiliation.
Apologizing at her own celebration for adulthood!
"If your eyes are bad, wear glasses, Princess."
"Yes......"
Never dreamed she'd mind Reinhardt's gaze one day.
Reinhardt then turned away.
"Grand Duke, care for a drink?"
"Gladly, Your Highness."
Princess Carmel shuddered alone in an instant.
*
For some reason, those days cursing Malfiel resurfaced.
Just yesterday it felt, calling him an attention whore—now here I was.
But it didn't feel bad.
Positions are made by oneself.
Waiting for others to hand them over means stagnation forever.
"I was shocked. Never thought you'd bring Arel."
Sharing drinks, Grand Duke Persephone remarked.
I'd gifted her as a present; matching as a partner was beyond imagination.
Arel, lifelong armored, in a dress.
'How'd he tame that stubborn one?'
Arel had ironclad obstinacy.
I hadn't expected easy handling even as a gift.
Yet he'd tamed the rough girl in days.
"An adopted daughter of the Grand Duke is worth more than other noble ladies. What's surprising?"
"......She's a dark elf."
Even saying it left a bitter taste.
Dark elves weren't human.
Humans, continent's masters, treated them as slaves.
Scarce dark elves hid in remote wilds to survive.
Grand Duke Persephone had emerged to change that perception.
Yet after 200 years of power, human views barely shifted.
'Post-war, Grand Duke Persephone sought independence.'
His territory was quasi-independent now, but full separation was another matter.
Raising his hidden dark elf legions would've declared a path apart from the empire.
He'd proposed independence in exchange for eliminating Malfiel.
That ultimately doomed him.
But it bought me time before death, making him a benefactor of sorts.
He'd clashed fiercest with Malfiel.
'Pushed him to the brink once, they say.'
His hidden power could've toppled Malfiel.
I understood his independence drive well.
"Humans differ in skin and features too. But they're 'human' because they share thoughts and talk. What's different with dark elves?"
"Dangerous thinking. With views like that, you'll never ascend the throne."
Grand Duke Persephone advised.
Dark elves are human too.
That's what Reinhardt claimed.
No emperor in the millennium empire's history defined them as such.
Not even the Empress 200 years ago.
Fear of societal backlash.
Majority nobles would oppose; the continent would point fingers.
Such ideas alone could strip his status.
"If I can't even think freely, what's the point of emperor? You're too worried."
I see why they called him the mad crown prince.
His mindset was alien.
But before me—a dark elf—it might just be flattery.
I'd seen plenty nodding along.
"Mind if I dance?"
"With whom?"
"Arel, naturally. She came with me; a dance is in order."
"......!"
Just escorting her in versus debuting her with a first dance in society—weighed worlds apart.
I slowly extended a hand to Arel.
Her eyes shook anew as our hands met.
Never danced; natural reaction.
"Entrust your body to me. No fancy steps, so relax."
I led Arel slowly to the hall's center.
I'd danced socials to death in my past life. This was child's play.
Leading to the music, stepping gradually.
"Focus on breathing. Think of it as sword dance."
Arel nodded.
One, two—nobles parted, forming a circle.
'Crown prince dancing?'
'Waltz? But not standard...'
Nobles' eyes bulged.
The heavy march ended; bright song flowed.
Waltzing to it. Tough even for experts, synced to tempo—with variations leading his partner.
Questions arose inevitably.
'Isn't he supposed to be mad?'
'Where's the madness?'
'Cool.'
Even men thought so.
Unfazed by difference, boldly advancing—that gall was rare.
Outfit harmonized, like a painting.
And Isabella felt the same.
'...Suits him.'
*
The storm's afterglow passed; the hall regained bustle.
Arel gripped her trembling legs, sitting. Impressive for a beginner.
A brief compliment, then I scanned.
Since entering, one person had caught my eye.
Zero's admin authority upgraded to rank 4, scanning all.
Most useful: levels.
Numericized combat power distinguished strong from weak.
Numbers floated over everyone here too.
【Lv. 115】
And among them.
Over the quietly sipping man, three digits gleamed.
Our eyes met.
He looked away, but his gaze screamed 'hostility'.
'Mercenary King Karbal.'
I recognized him instantly.
Coincidentally similar to the princess's name—this was Mercenary King Karbal.
—No one I can't kill exists.
Carlos Grand Duke's top mercenary.
Undefeated in kill-or-be-killed, 99% success even in assassinations—a legendary mercenary assassin.
I'd seen his swordplay multiple times; no doubts on skill.
So, why the hostility?
How'd he enter? Still under Carlos Grand Duke?
I needed confirmation.
I approached slowly.
Of course, not just that.
Most crucially,
He was once the prime suspect in the emperor's assassination.
[The Princess's Coming-of-Age Ceremony (4)] End