5. Nobility
Right after Olens packed his bags early the next morning and departed for the port in Eliyum to head to Leon, Olivier knocked on the baroness's door as if she had been waiting.
While staying in Eliyum, the year had turned, making her now fifteen years old. After breakfast, she discovered a torn-open letter on the desk in the room that had been emptied for the trip. The luxurious white envelope, trimmed in gold, bore a golden seal the size of a coin, clearly stamped with a unicorn and star inside a shield.
When Emily first spotted the letter and tilted her head at the strangely familiar pattern of the golden seal on the envelope, Olivier swiftly approached, snatched it up, and opened it.
"Oh my goodness! Finally, a Debutante Ball invitation has come for me."
Olivier's voice trembled with emotion as she made a fuss, pacing back and forth in the room.
"The Debutante Ball..."
"That's right. It's the official invitation from the Templeton Imperial family. As long as your name is listed in the noble registry that records the empire's hereditary nobles—Duke, Marquis, Count, Viscount, Baron—no matter where you are in the world, an invitation flies to the registered address for all noble children fifteen and older. Ahh, the texture of imperial stationery is just divine. It even smells like luxury and power."
Olivier pressed the letter to her face, sniffing it blissfully with an ecstatic expression. Then, her eyes suddenly flashed, and she dashed off toward the baroness's room.
—Knock knock.
Olivier stood there with a trembling heart, and when Emily knocked on the door, Lotte opened it from inside. Behind her shoulder, the baroness sat on the sofa, pressing her fingers to her temple, while a pile of papers stacked high next to her teacup on the table.
Olivier felt the heavy atmosphere in the room firsthand as she approached the baroness. When she gently placed her hand on her mother's shoulder, the baroness grasped Olivier's hand and gave a faint smile.
"We couldn't talk last night because it was so late. Did you have a good time in Eliyum? Did Lady Loren treat you well? I heard rumors that you and Lady Pratt were showing up at glamorous parties on Poenneu Street every night."
"Yes, Mother. It was like a dream. Everyone at the parties knew Lady Pratt and greeted her, so it felt like I got to make acquaintances with every noble in Eliyum."
"Hmm, I didn't realize it either until a friend told me—Lady Pratt is the queen of Leisha high society. She said no one in Eliyum doesn't know her. When I mentioned it was us, she laughed merrily."
Baroness Belpharos smiled softly as she lifted her teacup for a sip. Seated across from her mother, Olivier glanced sideways at the stack of papers next to the teacup. They were clearly bills, filled with item lists and numbers. Some bore warning phrases in red ink, suggesting they were urgent demands.
Olivier swallowed dryly, her throat tight with tension, steeling herself for a conversation that wouldn't be easy. "But Mother, this..."
She slyly placed the Debutante Ball invitation on the table and watched her mother's eyes. The baroness nodded as if she had expected it, letting out a short sigh.
"Yes. It arrived a few days after you left for Eliyum. I know it was rude since the recipient was you, but I asked them to let me read it first and leave it in your room. A Debutante Ball invitation... It brought back memories from over twenty years ago, making me happy for a moment. And seeing how grown up my daughter is now made my heart swell."
The baroness's eyes grew wistful with reminiscence as she lifted her teacup. Olivier watched her drink, then finally spoke as if resolved.
"...The date is at the end of this month. Brother left for Leon today, but if I hurry, I can make it with time to spare. It's only the beginning of the month now."
The baroness slowly shook her head at Olivier's pleading words, pointing to the bills on the table with her finger.
"Olivier, you're not a child anymore. Tell me what you think when you see these. They've been piling up steadily since year's end. Some are even dunning notices. The ones with those frightening red warnings need to be returned with Exxton Bank checks enclosed within the week."
"But Brother..."
Olivier protested softly, but the baroness set her teacup down on the table with a sharp clink.
"You know Rosalyn Aunt in Leon is your brother's guardian, right? On the day he turned one hundred days old, he received the sacred baptism at the Isildur Temple. Rosalyn promised to be his godmother then. She's been graciously covering his academy fees and living expenses ever since. But you're different. You weren't born in Leon, so on your hundredth day, when we went to the local Isildur Temple for your baptism, there were no acquaintances around."
"But..."
As Olivier tried to speak, the baroness cut in coldly. "Olivier, seeing you like this breaks my heart too. If our circumstances hadn't fallen this far, you could have naturally worn the latest Paralroma shoes, strolled Leon's glittering streets, and—even if not quite like Lady Loren or Lady Pratt—received similar treatment, changing into jewel-encrusted dresses for every ball, flaunting your youth and beauty. But as you know, this isn't Leon, and we're no longer the proud Belpharoses of old. Even signing these bills is a burden—we're just a hollow shell. Some of these are paid with money from Rosalyn Aunt. Your father's position as overseer at the Scren Mine came from her recommendation, thanks to her ties with Count Mercier."
The baroness grimaced, looking down at the pile of bills. She unfolded one, picked up the fountain pen from the table with a displeased expression, and signed it. Lotte took the signed bill from beside her, folded it, and tucked it into an empty envelope.
Olivier watched her mother's actions in silence, her face darkened. As the baroness signed yet another document marked in red ink, she lifted her eyes from the bills to gaze at Olivier.
"Olivier, don't be too disappointed. Even if you miss this year, another invitation will come next year. Until you turn seventeen—the age of majority—they send them annually to non-attendees. Next year, Olens will graduate from the academy, so as shameless as it is, I wonder if Rosalyn Aunt might help you. Even if not this year, aiming for next would be better for your mental health. By then, I hope our situation improves enough for you to enroll in Templeton Academy."
With Olivier's head bowed low, the baroness continued signing bills, shaking her head slowly.
"Olivier, Mother has work to do, so go back to your room. You've reached the age for Debutante Ball invitations and experienced Poenneu Street's high society, so I expect you've gained some lady-like discernment by now."
Olivier rose from the sofa with a sulky face and locked eyes with Emily, who stood quietly by the door. Emily's heart ached at the red-rimmed eyes on the verge of tears.
Olivier entered her room with heavy steps, then buried her face in the bed and unleashed the sobs she had held back all along. Emily, who had followed quietly, closed the door and stood by it, holding her breath.
Olivier's sniffles soon turned to heaving wails, then subsided into quiet sobs muffled in the bedding.
Emily hesitated, wondering if she should approach and pat Olivier's back. But a small voice made her hold back.
"...Go. Emily."
Olivier's voice mumbled from beneath the covers. When Emily lingered without moving, it came sharper.
"I want to be alone. Go back to your room."
The voice was thin, squeezed from sobs, but clear. "...I'll call you later."
Emily bowed at the waist in courtesy, then carefully closed the door behind her.
Having grown up as an only child, Emily recalled the silken touch of solitude in the darkness that had enveloped and comforted her during surges of sorrow and despair. It seemed Olivier desperately needed that touch now.