"A pleasure to meet you, Mr. Chechilron."
At a social gathering, a smile was not an emotion — it was an obligation.
Ofilienne unfurled her fan of white sable trim with a delicate flick, raising it to veil her lips. With a soft whisper of fabric cutting through air, her eyes curved slowly into a smile.
The smile was sweet, and her bearing was impeccably graceful.
The chandelier light of the banquet hall grazed her ash-grey hair and cascaded down, tracing her cheek and spilling over her shoulder — as though the lighting had been arranged for her alone.
Before her, Chechilron momentarily forgot how to speak.
"I-it is an honor to behold the noble bloodline of Moretti."
His thick fingers clutched his glass as he bent at the waist. A barely perceptible sheen of sweat had gathered at his brow.
"I have heard much about you. A capable businessman who achieved great success at such a young age, they say?"
The voice that drifted from behind the fan was serene.
"Ha, ha-ha… You flatter me so, I hardly know where to put myself. But how could I compare to the Viscountess of Beringen? I hear you've just secured a contract with a Porca public institution. Remarkable."
"Thank you for the kind words."
She tilted her head ever so slightly.
There was no rhetoric of humility.
No decorative phrases about good fortune or the help of others.
Humility was a thin cloth that the unchosen wrapped around themselves for protection. Ofilienne had no need of such cloth.
She knew her own worth, and she found no reason to diminish it.
"And this is…"
Chechilron's gaze drifted slowly to the side.
He was pressed close to his sister's side, arm linked with hers.
"My brother, Matyos. Say hello, won't you, Maty?"
"How do you do."
"Ha-ha, how do you do indeed. What a beautiful pair of siblings. Oh — I have someone to introduce as well."
Chechilron turned and gestured toward a spot a little distance away.
"Emily, come here, dear."
A small figure flinched among the crowd. A girl in a soft blue dress hurried over.
"Allow me to introduce her. A student I sponsor — Emily. I'm rather fond of her, like a daughter."
Chechilron's thick hand settled onto Emily's shoulder, and with a motion that seemed entirely natural, he drew her toward himself.
"…Hello. I'm Emily — I receive sponsorship from Mr. Chechilron."
Emily smiled brightly.
But deep within her eyes, no light reached.
"Ha-ha, well, we'll take our leave now. It was an honor to meet you."
Chechilron, looking thoroughly satisfied, steered Emily into the crowd and disappeared. His hand never left the girl's shoulder.
A brief silence followed.
"How unfortunate."
Sister watched Emily's retreating figure, fan raised to her lips.
"To spend the most beautiful years of one's life in the company of a man like that."
"You noticed?"
"Noticed what? That Chechilron intends to take that girl, Emily?"
Ofilienne said it with those gleaming grey eyes of hers.
"Anyone who could look at that child's expression and not understand would have to be blind."
When you deal with enough people, you learn to read the texture of a smile. Ofilienne had seen countless smiles over the years. Pretense, ambition, despair, resignation. Emily's smile was thinner than most — like a pane of glass so fragile it would shatter at a single hard breath.
"But what can be done."
Her voice was composed.
"That is the girl's fate. It's a fair exchange. She attends school on his money and repays him with her body."
Matyos's expression hardened.
At that moment, the fan snapped shut and tapped him lightly on the head.
"Don't concern yourself. These things are common. It's the way of the world."
The way of the world.
Ofilienne had learned the way of the world from her mother since she was small. Give something, receive something; receive something, give something. Everything in this world has its price. There are no one-way streets.
Matyos looked at Emily with troubled eyes.
Ofilienne said nothing, only tightened her grip on his arm.
After that, she kept him at her side as she made her rounds through the banquet hall. Smiling, greeting, calculating.
Hours passed, and the scent of champagne bubbles mingled with perfume and floral arrangements until the air grew heavy and close.
"I need to use the restroom for a moment."
"Be quick about it."
At last, his arm was free.
Matyos savored his freedom as he made his way to the restroom and back. Then, rather than returning to his sister, he picked up a glass of chocolate milk and stepped out onto the terrace.
"Phew."
He pushed open the terrace door and the night air flowed in. The laughter, the music, the chiming of glasses that had filled his ears until moments ago — all of it was pushed back behind a thick curtain.
After being wedged between people for so long, stepping out felt like coming back to life.
Just like this, for a little while. I'll go back in after about thirty minutes.
He leaned against the railing and raised his glass.
"Claude…"
A voice, melting and languid.
From the terrace next door.
Matyos instinctively pressed himself behind a pillar. Moonlight stretched long across the marble floor, and beyond that boundary, two shadows overlapped.
"Sir Franz."
A voice that resonated softly. The wind scattered her hair, scattering threads of pink across the night sky. Franz was holding out a single rose.
"…Accept this flower."
His fingertips trembled almost imperceptibly.
Franz — who had scored dead last on the tactics examination without a shred of shame — was offering Claude a single rose.
"Why do you look so downcast?"
"…I wanted to take first place on this examination, and give it to you."
In the moonlight, his face looked unexpectedly pure. A gaze where pride and longing were tangled together.
"Ahaha. Was that really the reason?"
She raised both arms and wrapped them around Franz's neck. As her slender wrists settled onto his shoulders, he swallowed.
"How adorable you are, Sir Franz. Whether you score a hundred or a zero, you are still you."
"Claude…!"
He pulled her close at the waist. Desperately, as though she might break.
Franz's head dipped toward her, but Claude raised one finger and lightly pressed it to his lips.
"Not here."
"I want you. Right now."
"No. Later."
"…Understood."
"Go on, now. If we're seen leaving together, people will talk."
"I'll go first. My rose."
Good God.
I had to wonder if this was really the same Franz I knew. How much butter had he slathered on himself?
Franz was one thing, but Claude — that woman was no ordinary creature either.
What on earth did she do to have him so thoroughly wrapped around her finger?
There was a reason she was the Succubus Queen. She'd ensnared the Crown Prince and the eldest son of a ducal house.
"What are you doing over there?"
Still leaning against the railing, Claude spoke.
He hadn't expected to go unnoticed. Franz might not have sensed him, but Claude was an Archdemon.
She'd known I was here from the start.
He stepped out from behind the pillar.
"Just standing here."
"My, isn't it Matyos of Moretti?"
Moonlight settled into her eyes. A darkness hidden within soft pink flickered past for just a moment.
"You seem to know who I am."
"A little. Lovely to meet you. I'm Claude."
"Matyos."
They faced each other across the narrow gap between the terraces. The night air drifted through the space between them.
"Mm, I'm sorry."
"For what, suddenly?"
"I think I may have caused some trouble for your sister."
"So you do know."
At the candid reply, her eyebrow lifted slightly.
"But what can I do? The Crown Prince loves me so very, very much."
She shrugged with easy nonchalance.
"A man falling for a beautiful woman is the same law as a bee falling for a flower. That's simply how it is. It means I'm a more enticing flower than your sister."
She inhaled the scent of the rose Franz had given her and whispered.
"What do you say, Matyos? Would you like to pluck the most beautiful flower in the world?"
"I don't think so."
"What do you mean?"
"I think my sister is prettier than you."
If she was going to come at me like that, there was no reason for me to be modest in return.
And by my own measure, it was simply true.
Sister was prettier than Claude.
Her face was pale as snow. Her full lips were vivid as a ripe persimmon, and her long, gently sweeping eyes drew people in with a soft horizontal pull. Even when her gaze was cold and distant, there was a strange allure woven into the line of them.
Claude was pretty, certainly. A beauty like warm sunlight, one might say. She had the kind of charm that could make two men lose their heads.
"My… looking at those eyes, you seem to mean it. You're saying I'm not prettier than your sister?"
"That's how I see it."
"Take a good look. At me?"
Claude leaned out over the terrace railing.
Well… she was pretty, yes. But having grown up alongside Sister, I felt nothing in particular. Perhaps my standard for beauty had already been set too high.
"You're saying I'm not pretty?"
"It's possible. There are many beautiful women in the world."
For a moment, the air split thin between them.
"Ha. What a little boy with no taste. I was going to let you have a bit of fun with me if you played your cards right. Change your answer now. I'll give you one chance."
Claude was subtly loosening the front of her dress to show a hint of décolletage.
I waved a hand.
"It's cold out. Don't do anything pointless."
"Tch. I'll remember this, little boy."
She tossed the rose Franz had given her without a second thought. The flower arced through the air and came toward me. I caught it on reflex. The red petals trembled softly in my hand.
"Consider it my heart, and take it."
"Franz would cry if he knew."
"Are you going to tell on me?"
"Why would I bother with something so useless."
I tossed the rose over the railing. The red speck fell and vanished into the night air. Claude's expression stiffened for a moment. Then, slowly, the corner of her mouth curved upward.
"What an interesting little boy."
She turned and disappeared back into the banquet hall.
I let out a breath and went inside. I'd stayed out longer than I'd intended.
In the shadow of a pillar, Sister was standing. In a spot where the light didn't reach, only her grey eyes were sharp and clear.
"Why are you late?"
Her voice was low and settled.
"It was a big one…"
"I told you. You have no talent for lying. Tell me straight."
"…I was on the terrace for a bit."
"Did I tell you to come back right away or didn't I?"
And so Sister scolded him all the way back to the dormitory.