Chapter 22
"I hated one person, and that hatred was entirely one-sided."
His voice, trying to sound composed, trembled unsteadily.
Lucia held her breath and stared at the man before her.
"―Mired in self-pity, I cursed and blamed that person... and shifted all the responsibility onto them. I said it was all because of you that we'd ended up like this."
Astin von Cardenos.
The Empire's notorious wastrel, a man reputed to be impossibly arrogant and violent.
Yet no trace of those qualities could be found in Astin now.
He looked as though he might break at any moment.
"I realized it far too late. Far, far too late. That all the wrongdoing and responsibility were mine."
His jaw trembled faintly as he swallowed dryly and avoided her gaze.
In Lucia's eyes, the body of the man called the Grand Duke's eldest son looked infinitely small.
She vaguely wanted to comfort him.
"You realized it and reflected on it, even if only now. You just need to sincerely apologize to that person. I'm sure they'd accept you now, Young Master."
"I can't anymore."
"......What?"
"I can't. Apologize."
Lucia's mouth fell slightly open.
It wasn't stubbornness, but resignation.
Guilt kept locked within one's chest hardens into a knot.
There was no hope left for this man, only regret.
The heaviest shackles are made not of iron, but regret.
The Astin of today was a frail man molded from regret.
Someone who had hated and slandered a person, only to realize their preciousness after their death.
Someone who had sent that person away forever, making it impossible to convey his feelings no matter how deeply he regretted it or how desperately he struggled.
Lucia's crimson eyes wavered faintly.
Lucia wanted to ask whether he had once had a lover who had died, but soon closed her mouth.
She didn't understand how deep a loss he had suffered.
What kind of existence was that person to him, to leave such a deep wound?
A fleeting thought crossed Lucia's mind.
Could the reason he had obsessed over Azeline and gone astray perhaps have been largely influenced by "that person"?
Someone who made him see another person in their place and made him feel utterly small...
Why he treated people in twisted ways, why he had kept apart from his family and acted like a wastrel.
That person had seeped, knowingly or unknowingly, into Astin's world.
Lucia couldn't bring herself to pity him. She forced her voice steady.
"That person......."
The question came out with a faint tremor.
"What kind of person were they?"
Complex thoughts flashed through Astin's eyes.
He withdrew his gaze from the empty air and barely managed to open his mouth.
"They were a good person in a way that's hard to put into words. I was a pathetic person for hating someone like that."
Only after losing a good person did he regret it to the bone and suffer alone.
Because the true nature of this man, hidden beneath the world's scandals, was unbearably sorrowful.
Lucia unwittingly voiced her inner thoughts.
"What a pitiable man."
Astin turned his head at the words she had blurted out without thinking.
His face betrayed his embarrassment. He looked stricken at having revealed a weakness he didn't want discovered.
"What's so pitiful about me?"
Lucia moved her lips uncertainly.
His attempt to feign indifference looked like petulance meant to hide a wound.
She felt sorry for him as he pushed away even comfort.
Though shaking her head, Lucia spoke in a firm tone.
"No. Just... don't keep everything bottled up anymore. You look pitiful."
Lucia sincerely wished this wounded man would hurt a little less.
A cool night breeze passed between them.
***
"Not here either."
"Where on earth did she go? Surely she didn't leave the ballroom before us."
"Miss Sia! Where are you!"
The head of the Patrian Trading Company, Raven, the second son of Grand Duke Winterhardt, and Crown Prince Zenon.
The three men's sharp gazes swept every corner of the ballroom.
Needless to say, they were searching for Lucia.
"My, look at them. They're still looking for Lady Lucia."
"Good heavens. From Crown Prince Zenon to Young Master Winterhardt, they're all frantic."
The young ladies covered their mouths with their fans, making their interest plain.
Their faces, betraying jealousy and envy, soon lit up with anticipation.
"Aren't you excited for the debutante ball starting soon?"
"Exactly. Lady Lucia will unquestionably be the star. Whom will she choose as her partner?"
The debutante ball, known as the highlight of the Founding Festival.
Nominally, it was a debut stage for young ladies taking their first steps into high society.
But those in the know all understood.
Among the nobility, the debutante ball was regarded as a ritual for choosing one's future spouse.
The marriage rate among the men and women who had shared their first dance at past debutante balls was overwhelmingly high.
-The first partner at a debutante ball is practically one's prospective spouse.
The pattern established by statistics accumulated over many years had solidified into a steadfast tradition.
Lady Lucia, the undisputed star of high society.
Whose hand would she take and promise to spend her life with?
It was only an old tradition, but perhaps because of that, all the young ladies' interest had converged on it.
"The Vice Tower Master of Sirius Tower? Or the Master of the Patrian Trading Company?"
"I think it'll be Young Master Winterhardt. Lady Lucia seems like she'd prefer someone with a dependable, beastly charm."
The young ladies laughed and fluttered excitedly as though the matter concerned them personally.
The most renowned men in the Empire were desperately vying to win a single woman's favor.
It was the sort of development one would expect to see only in a romance novel. The young ladies' cheeks flushed pink.
"But isn't it basically decided? No matter how many formidable candidates there are."
"Exactly. With the Crown Prince desperately searching for her, what lady in the world could turn down his hand?"
In the end, the young ladies' interest converged on one person.
Lucia would naturally choose Crown Prince Zenon.
The Crown Prince's looks, wealth, power, refinement, and affection. Even his overwhelming position as the future master of the Empire.
No matter how much of a star of high society she was, she couldn't simply overlook him.
Lady Lucia and Crown Prince Zenon's debutante ball would go down in high society's history as the romance of the century.
The young ladies grew excited as they imagined the romance that would soon become reality.
"......Lady Lucia!"
At the Crown Prince's shout, the young ladies' gazes turned toward him.
Beyond the arched door leading to the balcony, the hem of a red dress fluttered. It was Lucia.
The three men darted out toward Lucia as though on cue.
The young ladies covered their mouths with their fans and squealed.
"Lady Lucia. Where on earth have you been? I've been looking for you for ages!"
"I was terribly worried when I couldn't find you. I hope nothing happened?"
"Miss Sia. I missed you terribly. I was so worried you might have gone home without a word."
A barrage of questions and sighs of relief poured forth.
Lucia put on a deliberately formal smile. She had already returned the black uniform to its owner.
"I just went out for some air. It was stuffy with so many people inside."
The three men relaxed their stiff expressions and breathed sighs of relief.
Their gazes remained fixed solely on Lucia.
Looking into her ruby-colored eyes, each man privately imagined he was meeting Lucia's gaze.
"......"
In truth, Lucia's gaze passed over their shoulders.
It was drawn as if by a spell toward the handsome young blond man.
***
The walk back to the ballroom was short.
The terrace's cool, still air instantly changed into sweltering heat and noise.
Lucia gave me a slight bow and melted into the crowd.
Back in her splendid dress, she disappeared among the many noble ladies.
"Big Brother! Where have you been?"
Celine came hurrying over in little steps from beside a pillar. I laid a gentle hand on top of her head.
"I went out for some air. Nothing happened while I was away?"
"Yes! Though I was alone."
Celine smiled bashfully and nodded.
Just watching her, my hand moved on its own.
"You cute little thing."
"Mmph? E-Everyone's looking at us...."
"Everyone's looking? Let them look."
"Mweee......."
I kneaded both of Celine's cheeks like glutinous rice cakes.
Ah, this is healing. It felt as though all my useless thoughts were flying away.
Isn't grounding a technique for stabilizing the mind? From now on, I should squeeze Celine's cheeks whenever I'm bored.
When I released her cheeks, Celine felt both of them with her hands. She looked up at me with faint reproach.
I hadn't even squeezed them that hard. Don't be such a baby.
Suddenly, Celine's eyes flashed.
"That's right, Big Brother! You know the debutante ball is starting soon, right?"
"Right."
The finale crowning the Founding Festival would be the debutante ball.
The protagonist was, without question, Lucia. It was an event that had little to do with us.
If things followed the original plot, Lucia would choose the Crown Prince from among the four men.
"What am I supposed to do? I don't have a partner to dance with...."
"It's better that you don't. That bastard would die by my hand."
I was secretly relieved.
It was better to let her merely watch than to let her dance with some man who had crawled in from who-knows-where.
Of course, making Celine merely watch her first dance was just my own oppressive impulse.
I gently stroked Celine's small head.
"No need to worry. You can dance with me."
"With you, Big Brother?"
"Don't want to? I don't have a partner to dance with either."
"No, no!"
Celine vigorously shook her head.
"Yes! Absolutely!"
"Ahem!"
A cough came from right beside us.
Now that I looked, an unwelcome guest was standing beside Celine.
The sight of him alone made my fist clench. It was Damien, the Vice Tower Master of Sirius Tower.
He held both hands demurely, and his cheeks were flushed like those of a shy boy. He was genuinely disgusting.
"Young Master Astin."
Damien bowed toward me at a precise ninety-degree angle.
"Please forgive my rudeness earlier. I must have been temporarily insane."
"What are you doing?"
"To the true nobleman before me, I earnestly beseech you to reconsider my request for permission to share a first dance with the dazzling Lady Celine, positively review that request, and graciously grant it!"
"You're completely insane."
It was too much even to take as a joke.
The Vice Tower Master had thrown away his dignity and bowed just to dance once. His eyes were more serious and earnest than ever.
So I answered immediately, without a moment's hesitation.
"No. Get lost."
"......!"
Damien's body went rigid. His lips trembled, and his eyes lost focus and darted about.
Of course, that wasn't my concern.
"Celine, let's go."
"W-Wait!"
Damien grabbed my wrist with a sharp tug.
I barely restrained the fist I nearly sent flying at him then and there.
"True nobleman Astin! Please! It's my lifelong wish! Please let me hold Lady Celine's hand just once!"
"What if I let you hold it once in exchange for cutting off your wrist?"
"Gladly!"
"This guy is a complete lunatic. Get lost, you woman-crazed freak."
"Th-Then how about asking Lady Celine? Isn't the person's own opinion the most important? Let her choose which of the two—Young Master Astin or me—she likes better."
What was this, Produce 101?
But curiosity got the better of me, so I looked down at Celine. Damien's gaze followed mine and fixed on her.
Celine flinched, then looked between the two of us and pondered briefly. Naturally, even that hesitation was only for the sake of politeness.
If it were Celine, she'd choose me even if Damien offered her a fortune.
After a brief moment of thought, Celine pointed at one of us with her fingertip.
Not me, but Damien.
"......Celine?"
"Kyaaaaaaaaah!!!!! Lady Celine!! I knew it! I knew you felt something for me—"
Snap!
Celine straightened the finger she had pointed at Damien.
Only then did I realize it wasn't her index finger, but her middle finger.
"Get lost!"