The Young Ladies' Dopamine Party
A condemnation event is like a forced progression event in a game.
Once it kicks off, it's like a movie—everything unfolds exactly as scripted, down to the last detail.
Of course, that's just how games work, but [Reincarnated as the Villainess, I'll Make Myself Happy] is, strictly speaking, a romance fantasy novel.
Even so, the reason Miliela de Clermont was so thrown off by this situation...
'I've been through events like this so many times, and not once has it ever deviated from my predictions!'
For example, her very first event in this world: the initial encounter with the crown prince.
She'd poked at his insecurities with those perfectly timed lines, and suddenly, like a forced event trigger, he started spouting the exact dialogue and actions from the novel.
This happened every time with the other male leads too—always at least once per conquest.
So there was no doubt the forced event had begun the moment she dumped that water on Katarina.
But now, that ironclad rule had been shattered.
"The second son of the Northern Duke's family??"
"But doesn't the North already have Prince Cedric?"
"Prince Cedric's right over there..."
Miliela's panic was one thing.
But the gentlemen and ladies in the ballroom were heating up for entirely different reasons.
Come to think of it, today had been weird from the start.
This romance fantasy world was already packed with big and small balls popping up left and right.
The capital's Founding Festival ball was the grandest and most dazzling of them all.
And tonight's star? No question—it was Miliela de Clermont, the rising comet of high society.
Weeks before the ball even started, the young ladies had been buzzing with chatter like this.
Those expectations exploded into an even bigger dopamine hit the moment the ball began.
Surprisingly, the crown prince's partner wasn't Miliela.
Well, technically she was.
Miliela had just made her entrance like some protagonist or princess, surrounded by five men.
But thinking about it, there was no rule against it.
The unspoken rule of the Founding Festival ball was "bring a partner," not "one partner per person."
The ladies' shock quickly shifted to Miliela's dress.
It was a groundbreaking look that leapfrogged straight past the capital's high society trends.
Anyone could see the ladies had nailed it.
Over a daringly off-the-shoulder pure white gown.
As if the male leads were flexing their wealth and power, rare gems and magic poured down without restraint.
Normally, that level of extravagance would overwhelm the wearer.
But Miliela pulled it off flawlessly, striding in like a queen flanked by her five knights heading for the throne.
Just like the ladies' whispers, Katarina's face—standing in one corner of the ballroom—was already stiff as a board.
Not content with stealing her fiancé the crown prince and the empire's top men as escorts.
Miliela had the gall to show up in a dress that snatched every eye in the room.
From the ball's opening, the ladies' minds brimmed with thoughts of a night for the history books.
And as the finishing touch, Katarina—unable to hold back—splashed water right in Miliela's face.
But up to this point, it was all within the ladies' expectations.
They hadn't predicted this exact scale, sure.
But everyone knew Miliela—legend-weaver of high society—would roll up with killer dresses and partners.
And an enraged Katarina fuming to her roots would strike back? Obvious.
Then came the twist.
Something utterly unpredictable.
Something no one saw coming.
"I've never heard of anyone arriving this late to the Founding Festival ball, of all things."
"A gentleman from the Northern Hayden Ducal House!"
"The second son—does that mean Prince Cedric's brother?"
What was a ball to these young ladies, anyway?
The pinnacle of glamour with lavish decorations and decadent food?
The endless gossip swirling through the hall?
Sure, those were key ingredients for high society and balls.
But for the ladies, priority number one was crystal clear.
Finding their future husbands.
No matter how juicy the Miliela-Katarina drama, it couldn't top their own marriage hunts.
Amid the rising buzz, the late-arriving star made his slow entrance into the ballroom.
"Kuh... Just when we need to show this sinner his place."
"Can't be helped. Spotting new entrants is the rule, isn't it?"
The crown prince and his four companions had no choice but to watch the newcomer without protest.
It was the unspoken rule of the Founding Festival ball.
Until the new participant fully entered.
Everyone had to direct their attention their way, out of courtesy.
What first caught the ladies' eyes? Edrick's silver hair, of course.
"Oh? Look at that hair color."
"Such a mystical shade... Like a head swathed in fresh, cold snow."
His face was honestly pretty average.
Not a stunning beauty, but not ugly either—a warm, solid look.
Paired with that signature silver hair, though, the second son of Hayden exuded an aura no other gentleman could match.
"He looks... big and sturdy."
"Same suit as everyone else, but why does he pull it off so differently?"
A touch taller than every other man present.
And beneath that pristine white suit—matched to his hair—his impossibly solid, thick frame grabbed their gazes.
Naturally, their eyes slid to the partner at his side.
"Hmm...? Haven't seen that lady before."
"Was there a lady like her in the capital?"
A midnight-blue dress evoking frozen northern snowflakes.
If Miliela's was flashy overload with gems and magic.
Lily's defied high society's trends entirely, shocking the young ladies like nothing they'd ever seen.
"Look at those lines. A waist that flows like that—first time I've seen such a design!"
"And that fabric... Doesn't it shimmer like icicles with every step?"
"The weave itself feels totally different... Whose designer is this?"
Above all, what stunned them: Lily digesting this alien, avant-garde style to breathtaking perfection.
"The dress is one thing, but her vibe..."
"My god, she's so alluring..."
"She reminds me of a snow spirit on a frozen mountain."
As the ladies murmured among themselves.
One middle-aged countess suddenly piped up loudly.
"Oh my! She reminds me of the previous Northern Duke, Bernhard, in his youth!"
At that, the surrounding ladies swarmed the countess.
"Countess Francois! Tell us more!"
"I saw the previous Northern Duke—Bernhard—at a few capital balls back in the day. That snow-white, shining hair is a Hayden ducal trait for the men."
"But Prince Cedric, the current duke—his hair's jet black, isn't it?"
"I thought it was odd when I first saw his too. The previous, great-grand, and great-great-grand dukes all had that silver hair, from what I heard."
The middle-aged countess, basking in the rare attention from the young ones, kept spilling her exclusive intel.
"And that white suit to match! Bernhard always wore pure white formalwear to balls. Even his partner's dress..."
"Ah, yes! I've been dying to know about her dress."
"Never seen anything like it! Spill if you know, Countess Francois!"
"Of course. Back when I was a count's daughter, balls had dresses in that style everywhere. Look closely—doesn't it craft a whole image? Doesn't that lady in it scream 'snow-covered North' right away?"
"Yes! Totally!"
"I don't know the details, but it feels so different from modern dresses!"
"Not just flashy—it's like they intended a whole concept with the dress?"
The countess cleared her throat, ready to drop her "back in my day" wisdom.
"These days, high society's fashion trends are all gaudy gem clusters, right? Slap on magic stones or whatever, think anything that sparkles is pretty. Tacky as hell."
She snorted, openly dissing the young ladies' dresses.
The ones who'd been praising Miliela's bold gown looked a bit sheepish but hung on her seasoned(?) critique.
"True elegance doesn't dazzle the eyes like that. Real value comes from 'line.' Look at that dress—no clashing gems anywhere. See how the bust and waist curve just right!"
As the countess pointed her fan at Lily's hem, every eye locked on her.
"That's not the shallow cut modern tailors use. No magic or frippery—just pure mastery of fabric, wrapping the body with needle and thread alone. A lost art from true legends of our era."
"Oh, really...! Up close, it flows so naturally along her body."
"Right? It's not just old-fashioned charm. Zero margin for error in the stitching—that perfect silhouette was thought extinct. That's what sets it apart from these flashy eye-candy modern gowns. Real luxury."
Under the countess's awestruck breakdown, the ladies' view of Lily transformed.
From "exotic beauty" to "noble lady mastering vintage elegance to perfection."
"My god... It's not just a pretty dress—it's her whole dignified poise shining through."
"No wonder my eyes kept drifting back!"
"That's the key! Our era's top tailors considered skin tone, curves—everything. That icy northern vibe? No one but a lady with skin that pale could pull it off!"
In the feverish atmosphere, the ladies savored their fantasies and expectations, dopamine surging.
Wondering what waves these new arrivals would stir at the Founding Festival ball.
Then the name from that gentleman Edrick's mouth blew their minds wide open.
"Anyone from the Helios Ducal House here? Raise your hand."