The Masquerade Ball
Today was a holiday. A day with no lectures at the Academy.
Gazing out at the quiet streets beyond, Lizzy wheeled her chair forward.
The few students milling about all clutched something in their hands—notes, no doubt, cramming lessons into their minds ahead of the looming final exams. For those without mana, most classes were theory-heavy, relying on written exams rather than practicals.
Pop.
She unfurled her parasol and passed through the Academy's main gate.
The sunlight pouring down after the rainy season's end was still brilliantly warm.
The streets felt excessively peaceful. The happiness woven into that everyday normalcy stirred envy in Lizzy. What they took for granted was, to her, something precious she could never grasp.
Screech.
Before she knew it, she'd arrived at the mansion of her eldest brother, Roer, while wandering the streets.
She opened the gate, entered, and cautiously knocked on the door. A neatly dressed elderly butler appeared.
"Welcome."
"...Where is my brother?"
"...The master is in his room. However, he's been drinking since early morning and is likely thoroughly intoxicated."
"And his wife?"
"Lady Hela has gone to attend her salon."
"I see..."
Theirs was a political marriage, so even on a quiet day like this, it was common for them to spend their time apart. Yes, common... and yet Lizzy pitied her brother all the same.
Not for the unhappiness of the marriage itself, but because the reason he'd had to endure such a life was gone.
"Please show me the way."
"Very well."
Following the butler, Lizzy manipulated her undead servant to push her wheelchair.
They reached the room where Roer was drinking. Lizzy dismissed the butler with a curt nod and slowly opened the door.
There lay her eldest brother—Roer Paul Bistaen Claudia—sprawled on the sofa, dead to the world.
Screech.
"..."
The stench of alcohol hit her like a wall. How many bottles of that high-proof liquor had he downed in a row?
No side dishes in sight. Empty bottles rolled across the table—he'd poured them straight into an empty stomach.
If he weren't on the path of an Aura Knight, he might have dropped dead.
"Brother."
"..."
No response. Lizzy wheeled closer.
Dried tear tracks marred the corners of Roer's eyes.
"..."
He wasn't one to cry easily. No—in fact, since that day, she'd never seen him shed a tear.
Yet here he was, borrowing the haze of alcohol to weep alone.
"Brother..."
Was he asleep? The sharp tang of booze made her head swim, but she gripped her crutches, stood, and sat on the sofa beside his sprawled form.
Gently, she lifted his head onto her lap. Her trembling fingers combed through his disheveled hair, revealing the deep dark circles under his eyes.
"B-brother..."
Lizzy pressed her lips tight.
Seeing the shattered, festering ruin hidden beneath his ever-stoic facade brought tears unbidden to her eyes.
She herself no longer knew where to go. What must it be like for him?
The deepest agony for a human wasn't facing hardship itself, but confronting utter powerlessness.
Until now, there had been a path—thorny though it was. Now, even that was gone, blocked by an impossibly high wall that denied him even the act of walking.
'No...'
Had she ever truly walked that path first? Hadn't she always just followed in her brother's footsteps, the one who always led ahead?
Fists pounding against the thick wall. Head slamming into it. Covered in blood, collapsing in wretched sobs—gazing at her brother Roer like that, Lizzy pulled him into a tender embrace.
Parents love children. Children love parents. Siblings love each other in myriad ways, but among them... love through self-sacrifice was the purest devotion, beholden to no chance.
Recalling the times her father, mother, and brothers had carved flesh from their own bones to protect her, Lizzy vowed: even if this body crumbled to dust, she would stay by their side—no, take one step further and cradle them close.
Knock knock.
"...C-come in."
Wiping her tears, Lizzy called out to the door. The butler entered and handed her a single letter from his pocket.
Imperial Invitation
You are cordially invited to the Masquerade Ball
at the Imperial Palace next week.
All attendees shall conceal their identities.
— By Order of the Imperial Household —
"..."
As a noble daughter herself, Lizzy knew the unique nature of this masquerade.
'I suppose I must attend...'
Everyone except the imperial heirs with succession rights would hide their status. There, she could eavesdrop on raw political undercurrents without pretense.
Perhaps even float the idea of marriage to a Claudia daughter and gauge honest reactions.
...If only she could wield a sword.
She'd spread her legs without hesitation, sell this worthless body a thousand times over.
* * * * *
"You're really going?"
"Yes."
"You... hate those kinds of events."
After finishing her afternoon lecture and returning to the mansion, Uriel eyed Ferzen, who was preparing to head to the Imperial Palace, with a puzzled look.
'...'
Beside her, Euphemia frowned at Uriel, who shot her a sly glance and smirked.
'As if anyone doesn't know that...'
Ferzen was infamous for skipping gatherings, private or public, since childhood. Was she puffing up her chest just because she knew that one fact?
'Childish.'
Returning the smile with a scoff, Euphemia tucked her hair behind her ear.
"Even if I dislike it, if it holds value, I cannot avoid it."
Smoothing a slight wrinkle in his sleeve, Ferzen reached for his necktie. Or tried to.
"Let me do it."
"..."
If Euphemia hadn't risen pointedly and stepped forward.
"Don't you want me to?"
"...No. Go ahead."
Ferzen lowered his hands and gazed down at her obediently. She flashed a radiant smile and straightened his tie with care.
"Hmph..."
Watching them, Uriel crossed her arms and turned away.
'Later...'
She could do it herself then. Calming her jealousy with that thought.
As Euphemia stepped back, Ferzen stroked his subspace and drew out a sheep mask prepared in advance.
"It's... small?"
"It'll shrink to fit. No issue."
Euphemia voiced doubt at the ill-fitting size, but Ferzen chuckled lightly and summoned a gate to the Netherworld.
He induced contact with a peculiar entity from the first layer—a mimic—and struck a "rental" deal.
Borrowing only its ability, without full manifestation, halved the power and added penalties... but for a mimic, as long as the sun was down, it was fine.
"Ah..."
"Ah..."
As Ferzen disguised his appearance with the mimic's power, the two women let out soft gasps.
He'd mimicked his childhood self—around ten? Twelve?
The entity's name was mimic, after all; it could only imitate real existences.
"...Suitable enough."
In a voice unchanged by puberty, utterly boyish, Ferzen donned the child-sized sheep mask.
His shrunken suit was a crisp white, contrasting his usual black.
The man who always exuded dominance now looked docile, stirring an odd sensation in Euphemia and Uriel.
"You're leaving now...?"
"It loses meaning without full night. We'll depart once darkness fully settles."
"I see..."
Gazing wistfully at the diminutive Ferzen, Euphemia gently took his hand.
Compared to the large hands that once roamed her body, this was so tiny. Like holding a son who looked just like him, grown a little.
"If you're not leaving yet... l-let's go to the bedroom..."
"..."
Noting the subtle tension in her arm, Ferzen felt a flicker of curiosity but let her lead him meekly.
"Ah..."
Uriel, momentarily dazed by Euphemia's bolder-than-expected advance, gritted her teeth.
But irritation aside, she could do nothing. It would be absurd for her to push now.
'Perhaps...'
Maybe follow Ferzen to the masquerade?
'No...'
She abandoned the idea instantly. Lizzy or Roer would likely be there.
Ferzen had taken the blame alone, casting her as victim... yet Uriel lacked the confidence to face the Claudias calmly.
'Sigh...'
Retreating to her bedroom with an inward sigh, Uriel forced composure, reviewing theory questions for her written elemental magic exam.
Thankfully, focusing on work quelled her turmoil.
Shuffle, shuffle.
The quiet room filled with the rustle of papers. Immersed in her task, Uriel radiated a calm, intellectual allure unlike her usual self.
How much time passed?
Knock knock.
The knock shattered her focus. She turned—night had nearly fallen outside.
Perhaps Ferzen? Heart leaping, Uriel hurried to the door.
Click.
She turned the handle cautiously.
"..."
No one there.
"Uriel."
Or rather, someone was—just invisible.
"Ah..."
Forgetting momentarily that Ferzen had altered his appearance, Uriel looked down to meet his red eyes.
"I'm about to leave, so I stopped by."
"..."
He spoke in that boyish voice unique to his current form. Worried it strained his neck to look up, Uriel crouched to match his gaze.
Tentatively, she reached out and stroked his cheek.
Soft and squishy. His brow furrowed slightly.
Normally, she'd shrink back, but now it just looked adorable.
Squeeze.
"Uriel..."
Releasing his cheek, she gripped his shoulders and pulled him into an embrace.
His scent hadn't reverted—still the familiar manly aroma. The mismatch made her chuckle inwardly: a child reeking of a grown man.
"..."
Ferzen had vaguely anticipated this from Euphemia's reaction... but it still baffled him.
After tangling so fiercely with him, did a mere youthful facade awaken maternal instincts?
"Uriel."
To test, he called her name and beckoned her closer.
As she leaned in...
"Ah..."
Ferzen's small hand seized her chin, turning her face aside.
A massive full-length mirror stood there. Faint twilight still lit the sky, reflecting Ferzen's true form clearly.
Yes—the wolf beneath the sheep's mask revealed.
"Did you grow up without fairy tales?"
"..."
"Don't be fooled by appearances, Uriel."
His tiny hand kneaded her breast. To the eye, a lamb's petulance—but the mirror showed...
a wolf growling before succulent prey.
"Ah..."
Rising on tiptoe, Ferzen gripped her shoulder, closed his eyes, and kissed her.
"M-mm...!"
Uriel's obsidian eyes darted between the Ferzen before her and his mirror image, flustered.
"Hah... ha..."
As he pulled away, she wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and stumbled back—only to trip and plop ungracefully on her rear.
The sheep-masked Ferzen stepped between her legs, stroking her backside as he murmured,
"When the ball ends and I return, I'll visit your bedroom..."
"..."
"Don't sleep, Uriel."
A glance at the mirror showed the wolf licking its chops.
As full darkness fell, the mirror now reflected only the sheep-masked boy.
"No reply?"
Slide.
Like scolding a ghost, he hiked her skirt, teasing the center of her black panties with a finger.
Twitch!
Unable even to clamp her thighs, Uriel flushed and trembled, whispering,
"Y-yes... I-I won't sleep... I'll be waiting..."
"Again."
"F-for your... s-seed... I'll w-wait..."
"Good."
The sheep smiled.
But Uriel saw no lamb there.
"I'm off."
"Y-yes... c-come back safe..."
The bleating lamb and the compliant woman.
In this moment, who truly was the sheep?
Only the beautiful moon watching through the window tilted slightly, as if pondering the riddle.