Say It (2)
"Of course you have to say it."
Roseline glared at me for a long while.
Deliberately feeling the hatred in that gaze was exhausting work, but I was satisfied. Not broken, not fled, but holding out to the end — and yet wearing the face of someone standing before the line I had drawn. It was to see that one face that I'd had the room cleaned, chosen the teacups, and even prepared sweets with just a hint of sweetness.
"...I, Roseline Veloa, require the assistance of Lady Serena Arzen."
In that instant, something kindled along my spine. All she'd done was speak my name with her own mouth and say she needed my help — and yet it seemed to have touched somewhere deeper than I'd expected.
Ah. Maybe it's because I haven't touched myself lately. I tried to hold it back, but a little seems to have slipped out...
"Do not laugh."
"Huh? Oh. Sorry."
"You do not look sorry at all."
"Yeah. Honestly, I'm not."
Roseline wore the face of someone wanting to snatch back the words she'd just spoken, but they had already fallen into the room. Roseline Veloa requires the assistance of Lady Serena Arzen. And with her own lips, no less. That much made today quite satisfying... no. Not quite enough yet.
"Well done."
"Do not speak to me as if praising a dog."
"Then — excellent work, Lady Veloa?"
"Do not mock me."
"It isn't mockery."
"I have fulfilled the condition, so I will take my leave now."
"We're not finished yet."
"What else could possibly remain."
I rose from my seat and walked toward the wardrobe. The hidden box was nestled deep inside — a flat case wrapped in deep navy cloth. The moment Roseline saw it, her face went rigid.
My, but she's quick on the uptake.
"A gift."
"I don't need it."
"How would you know what it is? You haven't even opened it."
"If it comes from you, I need it sight unseen."
"What a shame. It would suit you rather well."
When I opened the box, a folded dress lay within. A black so deep it verged on navy — under the light, the faintest breath of blue stirred across it. The neckline wasn't cut deep, opening just enough to show a sliver of collarbone, and the waistline was cleanly defined. The sleeves fell to the wrists, each finished with a small ribbon.
"Wear it to the Patron Society's banquet."
"I refuse."
"Then what do you plan to wear? Didn't you come here to build connections? Do you really think it'll be fine to stay buried among the commoner students?"
The Patron Society banquet. Despite everything that had happened, it was going ahead as scheduled — a gathering that, in name, was a social exchange, but in truth a place where everyone took each other's measure. Roseline could not be allowed to look shabby there. Not as long as I had a hand in things.
"Do you know my measurements?"
"Is there any reason I wouldn't?"
Roseline's expression turned to ice, and behind her, I thought I heard Isabel swallow.
"When did you take my measurements?"
"You know I've never laid a hand on your body without you knowing."
"Then how did you—"
"There are the trade records. The garment measurements your house ordered from us in the past, corrected against your more recent figure."
"Why would you even check that?"
"It seemed like it might be needed."
"Since when?"
"From the very beginning."
Roseline's head was probably more tangled than it had ever been. The day she would wear this dress had been inside my calculations from the start — before I told her about the gold mine, before I brought in the appraiser and raised the matter of her debts, all the way up to the moment she walked into this room and said she needed my help.
"You are truly incorrigible. I will not accept this."
"You should."
"I refuse."
"Then does your family have the luxury of choosing what it dislikes?"
Roseline clenched her jaw. I stepped forward with the dress in hand and pushed it into her arms; she caught it on reflex.
"See? You can accept it after all."
"That is not accepting it."
"You're holding it, aren't you?"
"You forced it into my arms."
"The result is the same."
Roseline glared at me, the dress still clutched to her chest.
"I am not a doll you dress up for your amusement."
"I know."
"And yet you do this anyway."
"Yes."
There was no reason to deny it.
"I simply hate seeing you look shabby in a ballroom."
"Is that concern, or is it your pride?"
"Both."
Roseline gave no answer. She only tightened her grip on the dress — like someone determined not to have it stolen away.
The Patron Society banquet was held three days later.
The academy's central hall had become an entirely different place from daytime. Chandeliers hung from the high ceiling, and the sound of heels and laughter spread in a thin shimmer across the marble floor.
The noble students gravitated naturally toward the heart of the hall. The commoner students, by contrast, clustered apart along the edges. Many of them lacked proper formal wear, and it showed — they'd clearly chosen the most presentable of whatever they owned. No one had openly pushed them aside, and yet the chandeliers' light fell most generously on the nobles, while the commoners stood beyond its reach. Everyone understood the arrangement without a word being spoken.
And Roseline stood near that line. Wearing the dress I had given her.
It fit well. It fit too well, in fact, which was why Roseline kept fidgeting with it. The waistline sat more defined than usual, the neckline alluring without being excessive, and there wasn't a single worn or shabby thread anywhere. Instead, she looked anything but comfortable. She touched the ends of her sleeves again and again, and whenever anyone's gaze drifted her way, she straightened her posture at once — like someone who refused to crumble.
"Oh my — isn't that Lady Veloa?"
From somewhere close, the voices of young noblewomen carried over. The tone was sweet, but the weave of the smile behind it was anything but.
"We were so worried. They say the Veloa family has been terribly busy these days, and yet you still managed to attend the banquet."
"One simply must show one's face at occasions like this. If you stayed away, the rumors would only grow worse."
"And what a lovely dress. I never knew that color would suit you so well, Lady Veloa."
"I wonder who chose it for you? Someone with remarkably fine taste, I'm sure."
They hadn't insulted her outright, but every word concealed a thin needle. And Roseline was not the sort of person to be swayed by such vulgar mockery.
"Thank you for your concern."
Her voice did not waver.
"My family's affairs are still being settled, but I have no reason to avoid an occasion such as this."
"Oh my, how very like you, Lady Veloa."
"Impressive. If it were me, my feelings would be too tangled to stand here so proudly."
"Exactly. The daughter of a great house truly is different."
Laughter rippled softly through them. I watched the scene for a moment, then moved. Beneath the chandelier — from the place where the light fell brightest — my steps parted the crowd's gaze as naturally as water.
Roseline's expression hardened as she looked at me, more guarded than she'd been toward the ladies who had just mocked me to my face. She understood what I was doing, but... it still stung a little. I forced myself to ignore it and stopped at her side, as though that spot had been mine from the start.
"Beautiful. As I thought."
Roseline's breath caught for an instant. The laughter among the young ladies faded, little by little. I didn't look at them. Instead, I let my gaze rest lightly on the ends of Roseline's sleeves.
"I suppose that's what happens when I'm the one who chose it."
That single sentence sent every word they'd been so carefully circling around scattering, directionless. Roseline spoke in a low whisper.
"Do not cut in like this."
"No."
"Lady Arzen."
"I happen to like the face you make when you're determined to endure it all alone."
I smiled faintly.
"You see, I simply can't stand letting what's mine get torn at by other people's teeth."
Roseline couldn't answer.
The hall was as bright as ever. But beneath that light, Roseline no longer looked like someone standing alone. Instead, the moment I took my place beside her, the quality of the gazes turned upon her changed. Where before they had been needles aimed at someone who'd clawed her way back from the dead, now they were measuring — calculating the person standing at my side.
Why would Arzen shield Veloa? Was that dress truly chosen by Serena Arzen herself? Had the Veloa family finally attached itself to the Arzen banner? Every one of those questions spread quietly through the smiling faces beneath the chandeliers.
And Roseline could not possibly have missed it.
"You've made everything stranger."
"Have I?"
"Yes. Now those people will think I've hidden behind you."
"Then just stand tall. You're not hiding — you're making use of me."
Roseline's brow shifted, barely perceptibly.
"Making use of whom, exactly?"
"Me. You're making use of me."
I raised my glass to my lips.
"Doesn't it feel a little less unfair, if you think of it that way? Let's make use of each other, as needed."
Roseline didn't answer. Instead she picked up a glass from the nearest table — to wet her throat, no doubt. At least, that was the intent at the time.
But the glass emptied faster than I'd expected.