Chapter 14
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Translator: Wjin
Chapter: 14
Chapter Title: The Debutante
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Time passed, and Philomel turned fourteen.
Her debutante ball was just around the corner. Debutantes were typically for ladies sixteen or older, but with the empress's position vacant, Philomel was holding hers a bit early. The imperial family needed someone to lead high society.
Previously, Marchioness Sylvia Elos had taken charge as a former princess, but after her exile, there was no suitable replacement. None of the remaining collateral imperial relatives were close enough to the main line to stand in for the empress.
It hadn't caused any major disasters, but without a central figure, factions in society had grown sharply divided, and the atmosphere was tense.
'Can I really fill that role?'
Philomel felt like she'd been saddled with an unnecessary burden and wasn't thrilled about it, but she couldn't shirk her duties as a princess. At least until Ellensia appeared, she was the princess.
'Guess I'll just play the part given to me.'
Lady Deless had assured her it wouldn't be too difficult besides. The ladies would fall in line just seeing Philomel in the position.
It was anyone's guess whether the haughty nobles, who had treated the once-pitied princess like a nuisance, would actually respect her...
"Oh my! You look absolutely stunning!"
Lady Deless's exclamation from the side snapped Philomel back to her surroundings.
The debutante ball was today. The banquet would start in just a few hours.
Philomel turned back and forth in front of the mirror to check her reflection.
"Isn't this a bit too flashy?"
She asked awkwardly, eyeing the dress adorned with countless red ribbons over white fabric.
Lady Deless shook her head and adjusted the dress's fit.
"Not at all! You've been dressing so prim and proper all this time, Your Highness. But you don't need to hold back at your debutante."
The maids assisting her carefully checked that the ribbons hadn't come loose.
"This dress might not be to your taste, but bear with it just for today. Everyone else will be decked out to the nines."
"Mm, true enough."
In fact, it was perfectly to Philomel's taste. The other dresses in her wardrobe felt distant from her preferences by comparison.
Before she was nine, Philomel had adored eye-searingly ornate dresses—maximum decorations, top-quality fabrics.
But keep buying those, and she'd turn into the extravagant 'Philomel' from the book in no time.
Besides, she didn't have the nerve to splurge the emperor's money like that—a total stranger's.
So Philomel had revamped her tastes. She stuck to modest, elegant dresses and practiced utmost frugality without compromising imperial dignity.
People assumed her preferences had naturally matured with age. Lady Deless, who had secretly lamented not getting Philomel into cute, flashy dresses, had eagerly pushed her to wear this one for the debutante.
'Feels a little off, but not bad.'
Philomel gave herself one last look in the mirror, realized she'd tarried too long, and hurried out of the room.
The emperor was waiting by the carriage.
"Your Majesty! Have you been waiting long?"
"Not really. More importantly..."
Emperor Justis's gaze drifted to her dress.
It was ridiculous, but his eyes seemed to reproach the dress's extravagant price, making Philomel flinch guiltily.
"Does it look that strange?"
"No. It suits you well."
"Your uniform suits you splendidly too, Your Majesty."
The emperor chuckled at the flattery and boarded the carriage, offering his hand. Lately, he smiled at Philomel more often.
"Come on up."
He would be escorting her today. Philomel took his hand without hesitation.
The carriage sped from the inner palace—primarily the imperial family's living quarters—through the outer palace, where officials worked, palace servants resided, and banquets were held.
Soon, they arrived at the banquet hall.
"The great sun of the empire and the little sun, His Imperial Majesty the Emperor and Her Highness the Princess have arrived!"
At the attendant's cry, all eyes turned to them as they entered.
"Glory to Belleroph!"
"Glory to Belleroph!"
The guests bowed, right arms over their hearts. And the debutante began.
By custom, debutante ladies entered on their family's arm and danced with peers of the opposite sex.
There was a superstition that your first dance partner became your fate. That's why securing that first partner was the biggest concern for young ladies.
Philomel had heard of some who ended up sobbing through their debutante after failing to snag a good one. Of course, it didn't apply to those with set partners.
Spotting her fiancé in the crowd, Philomel informed the emperor.
"Then I'll go dance my first with Young Duke Averyden."
But no reply came.
Puzzled, she turned to find Emperor Justis looking distinctly displeased.
"Your Majesty?"
"...That business about marrying your first dance partner is all superstition. Don't let it bind you. You still have countless possibilities ahead."
'Here I thought he was going to lecture me seriously... His idea of advice?'
She might not know about her own prospects, but she'd long known she and Nassar wouldn't end up together.
"Of course. No need to worry."
Philomel replied briskly and made her way toward Nassar, exchanging greetings with those who approached.
The second son of a prestigious house, accomplished in both letters and arms, and strikingly handsome to boot—Nassar, hailed as the empire's finest bachelor.
He stared at the approaching Philomel, utterly entranced.
Philomel called his name.
"Nassar?"
"..."
"Nassar, are you feeling ill?"
"Ah, no. My apologies. I was lost in thought."
"Didn't you overdo it yesterday?"
"I'm fine. I rested well."
Duke Averyden's zeal for his son's education showed no signs of waning. He'd recently hired a swordmaster who wielded aura as Nassar's instructor.
Seeing the bruises peeking from his sleeve stirred pity in Philomel. A pang in her heart—perhaps fellow feeling from shared hardships.
"Your Highness, please grant me your hand."
Nassar's voice trembled faintly as he extended his hand.
Guests had gathered in a circle around the dance floor, waiting for the princess and her fiancé to lead off.
Philomel took his hand without refusal this time too.
Until she left this place, she could stand in for Ellensia as much as needed.
Time passed again. Philomel turned fifteen.
"Greetings to Her Highness Philomel Meitias Belleroph, the little sun of the empire."
At some ballroom, a nervous young lady curtsied to the princess.
"Oh my. Isn't this Lady Rusan? How is Countess Rusan's health these days? I'm curious if the foreign doctor's prescription helped."
Moved that the princess remembered even her mother's health despite their modest house, the countess's daughter replied joyfully.
"She's much better. It's all thanks to Your Highness for arranging the doctor."
"Think nothing of it. I just bridged the gap."
"Not at all! Without your help, Mother would still be bedridden."
Soon, nobles flocked around Philomel—eager to chat with the princess.
Nassar Averyden watched from afar, crystal goblet in hand. Philomel responded patiently to their chatter without a hint of annoyance.
Her soft brown hair brushed and swayed against her pale skin with each small nod.
Nassar drank in the sight quietly—until someone clapped his shoulder.
"Nassar! There you are."
"Kenny."
Kenny Odellrie, second son of the Marquis Odellrie house, was Nassar's closest friend. Playful and chatty, yet they shared plenty in common despite Nassar's taciturn nature.
"Who're you staring at?"
Kenny whistled upon following Nassar's gaze.
"Whew. Absolutely smitten. Didn't get enough earlier while dancing?"
"It's not like that."
"Sure it's not."
Kenny clapped his shoulder again.
"That into her? Good just watching?"
After a pause, Nassar gave an oddly off-topic reply.
"...You danced with Her Highness too."
"I asked, and she obliged. But that was your first dance."
"As her fiancé, it's only natural."
"Oh ho. That's all? Just because you're engaged?"
Kenny eyed him mischievously, as if saying to admit it already.
"Yeah. That's all."
At least for her. Nassar swallowed the rest and turned back to the princess.
"Liar. Affection's dripping from your eyes."
"..."
Kenny prattled on as his friend fell silent.
"Look at you, jealous. Mad she's dancing with other guys?"
"Quiet."
"What's to worry? You're the one who gets the honor of marrying her."
"...Am I really?"
Kenny clicked his tongue at the uncertain tone. Everyone saw the princess and Nassar as the perfect match, yet his friend was always oddly defensive.
"What're you talking about? If not you, then who..."
The murmurs suddenly hushed as everyone bowed their heads.
The emperor had arrived.