Chapter 9
There were countless balls, banquets, concerts, reading salons, and other events—large and small—constantly being held in imperial high society.
They were places where nobles exchanged information, and also venues for discussing cooperation.
Among them, the upcoming “masquerade ball” was the second biggest event of the first half of the year, and one of the most popular. It was only natural.
‘Because being able to hide your face means you can move around much more freely.’
Finding new partners, making unusual proposals or announcements while concealing one’s identity, or indulging in small acts of rebellion that one would not normally dare to do—these were all things that were tolerated to some extent at this event.
Of course, if someone really wanted to find out who someone was, they could. But unless something was truly serious, everyone tacitly agreed to look the other way. That was the unspoken rule of the masquerade.
For that masquerade ball, Beatrice and Clyde decided to attend wearing masks that barely covered their faces—masks that could hardly even be called masks.
The reason was simple.
‘It’s about time Valoa’s patience hit rock bottom.’
They did not consider the possibility that Valoa might not attend the masquerade. She genuinely loved parties and amusement.
‘What are the odds that someone like Valoa, at a ball where even ordinary people naturally relax, would quietly enjoy herself and go home smiling?’
That kind of chance did not exist. It might honestly be faster to find a pig flying through the sky.
But the opposite possibility was very real.
That is, the chance that Valoa—already thoroughly irritated by them—would look at a seemingly affectionate couple on the dance floor and completely lose it.
‘Valoa would definitely act out, even if she wasn’t absolutely sure we were the ones irritating her.’
And afterward, she would be the type to say, “It’s your fault for making me misunderstand.”
In that case, it was better to become the target on purpose while she already hated them. It would also make it easier to deal with things if there were any signs of trouble later.
That was certainly true, but…
“Huh? Those two feeding each other over there—aren’t they Lady Hartwell and Sir Dalton?”
“They’re wearing lace masks, but it’s obviously them, isn’t it? I saw them dancing just a little while ago. They were whispering and laughing about something, too.”
“Oh, then the one handing her a shawl near the powder room must have been Sir Dalton. My goodness, newlyweds really do seem happy.”
“They’ve hidden it all this time and only just revealed it, so that makes sense. Maybe that’s why they’re wearing such light masks? Like a declaration that they don’t want to hide it anymore?”
“Oh my, I know this might be rude, but if that’s the case, it’s kind of cute.”
…She had no idea that simply showing up under anonymity would draw this much attention!
Beatrice, exhausted by the endless gazes fixed on her, eventually fled to a corner of the banquet hall.
Seeing how much she was suffering, Clyde quietly followed her with a drink in hand.
“Here.”
“…Ugh. What is it? I was just trying to get away by myself, so why did you follow me? If you stay here, people are going to start gossiping again.”
“Like I’d leave you alone and let Lady Valoa do something unpredictable. It’s fine. I won’t care.”
“You would, though.”
“I’m serious. People don’t obsess over something once they’ve already paid attention to it.”
Well, when he put it like that, maybe that was true…
Still, Beatrice edged closer to one of the decorative objects that could hide part of her body. Clyde leaned slightly toward her and spoke while tilting his chin.
“And look more closely. We’re not leaving empty-handed.”
“Eh…?”
Following Clyde’s gesture, she scanned the clustered crowd with her eyes and let out a small exclamation.
“Oh.”
Without even being told what to look for, she immediately understood. Among the many people who had hidden their identities under all kinds of masks, there was one presence that stood out unmistakably.
“Wow, she’s glaring terrifyingly. I don’t know who it is, but now I know who it is.”
“Right?”
“Even with all that disguise from head to toe, it’s amazing she’s still recognizable.”
Beatrice genuinely thought so.
If it were not for that look in her eyes, even she might not have known who the figure wrapped in all sorts of expensive fabrics was—almost like a parrot dressed up in a hundred colors.
The persistence with which that person continued tracking their movements while leisurely swirling a wineglass among the crowd was, in a sense, impressive. The problem was that all that persistence was aimed at them.
Beatrice brushed a hand down her arm and whispered to Clyde.
“But seriously, she really is just watching like you said. I honestly thought she’d cause a scene without caring about anything, like she did at our wedding.”
“Well, maybe she’s waiting for an opening. And I told you, didn’t I? At first, she’d definitely try to separate us.”
“By spilling drinks or calling someone over?”
“Yeah. And if that happened, remember what I told you to do?”
At Clyde’s question, Beatrice gave him a silent glare. It was the kind of look that said if he asked one more time, she would really not let him off.
But Clyde did not even blink as he continued shamelessly.
“What, Bia? You already forgot? Can’t be helped. I’ll start from the beginning again…”
“The meeting place! I go to the meeting place. The old tree in the garden behind the mansion. Happy now?”
“Mm.”
“Don’t smile. Tch, seriously. There are people here, so I can’t even hit you…”
“That was the point. Want me to bring you some cold water to cool down?”
“Get lost.”
Even while grumbling, Beatrice still flinched whenever she felt the gaze of others around them. Clyde chuckled at that.
Of course, the price of his laughter was a pain spreading through his ribs.
“Agh.”
“Shh! Smile, darling. Hm? If anyone sees this, they’ll think I’m bullying you.”
With the familiar, not-quite-a-threat threat—
Valoa’s gaze persisted, watching the two people whispering together affectionately in the farthest corner of the ballroom.
Her lips, painted a deep red to match the outfit she wore that day, twisted naturally.
“How strange. What on earth is so fun about the two of them…”
It was not as if they were looking at some magnificent work of art or a breathtaking landscape. It was not as if they had received some precious, expensive gift. It was not even the thrill of getting what they wanted.
All they were doing was drinking, exchanging useless trivial chatter, and dancing to the music. Was that really so fun? So happy?
‘Enough to ruin my mood just from watching?’
Suppressing the urge to throw the glass she was holding, Valoa slowly blinked.
‘As expected, I’ll have to do it the way I planned.’
People called her a brat, a troublemaker, and all sorts of other things, but she had wanted to get what she wanted in a proper, aristocratic way if possible.
She sent proposal letters. She confessed her feelings. She objected at the wedding. She even asked His Majesty the Emperor to invalidate the marriage. She had been perfectly aristocratic about it.
And what had she gotten in return?
‘Lady Crawford. I’ve said this every time you rejected me, but I am not yours. I am not an object, and I am not prey. How could I possibly belong to someone?’
‘Are you out of your mind? There will be no divorce between the two of us, so give up and leave. This is my final warning. I’ve let you off once, but that was the last time. If you pull another absurd stunt like this, I won’t sit still. Valoa, when are you going to learn that the world does not bend to your wishes?’
Valoa bit her lower lip as she recalled all the refusals and objections she had heard.
There’s no such thing as something that cannot be done.
At least, not in her world.
It’s not like a marriage can only be broken by legal divorce.
If a spouse died or disappeared, the marriage would be broken just the same.
Her gaze happened to land on the Hartwell family’s youngest daughter, who was standing up from her seat. Clyde, who had been trailing after her like a shadow, did not follow her out. It looked like she was heading to the restroom.
How convenient—she’s moving alone. See? There’s no such thing as impossible in this world.
