“I’ve been watching you since the moment you stepped into the ballroom.”

If that were the case, it would have been easy for him to learn her name. After all, Isabelle had come to know him in much the same way.

She couldn’t quite believe that a man like him had been doing the very same thing—watching her—and so she asked,

“Why?”

“Hmm… I suppose I was drawn in by the rather fervent gaze you kept casting my way.”

So he had noticed her looking at him.

A flush spread across Isabelle’s face.

To have her behavior exposed—especially by a man who belonged to a world so far above her own—was unbearably embarrassing.

Tenetta inclined his head slightly, offering her a proper greeting despite her averted gaze.

“Allow me to introduce myself properly. My name is Tenetta Achilleton.”

“I’m Isabelle Attley.”

As she returned his greeting, Isabelle became acutely aware of the attention gathering around them.
For a nineteen-year-old who had only just set foot in the capital, it was the kind of moment that could not help but draw every eye.

Young, handsome—possessing every charm a woman might dare imagine—he spoke a single sentence that made her the center of it all.

“May I have the honor of your first dance, Lady Attley?”

What woman could possibly refuse such an offer?

Isabelle had never learned restraint, and in that moment, she didn’t even try. As if under a spell, she took his hand, choosing to overlook the lie he had used to drive away her last partner.

His hand felt unlike any she had ever touched before. Even through the thin white silk glove, it was firm and unyielding, like stone. But it was the warmth that unsettled her more than anything — a constant heat, as though it would never fade, not even in winter.

Startled by this unfamiliar sensation, she blinked and realized how overwhelming his presence truly was — far beyond any man her age she had ever danced with.

Completely drawn in, she let Tenetta lead her effortlessly to the center of the hall. Although she had never danced with someone so tall before, he never faltered, moving with quiet precision as though he instinctively knew how to handle someone as small and light as her.

It was only after she had followed him through the opening steps that Isabelle tried to compose herself.

“You said you noticed me looking at you… but I wasn’t the only one. There were plenty of others doing the same.”

Even as she said it, confusion crept in.

‘Should I address him as ‘Your Highness’? Or… ‘My Lord’?’

The Achilleton family had long ago been absorbed into the Empire from a foreign royal house, receiving the title of Grand Duke in the process.

So while the head of that family was indeed a Grand Duke, some men preferred to be addressed as “Lord”—especially those with certain distinctions, such as military service or membership in the holy knight orders…

Isabelle’s thoughts trailed on like that, until they were cut short by the man’s indifferent reply.

“Is that so.”

“……”

“Then I suppose you were the only one who stood out.”

Isabelle’s eyes widened.

As the music reached its climax, the firm hand that had already stolen her senses pulled her closer with a sharp tug.

Caught off balance, she arched backwards instinctively, only to be steadied by his strong, unyielding hand on her back. Like the hand holding hers, it was large and steady.

Even through the layers of her dress and his gloves, she could feel the heat of his body seeping in, causing her to hold her breath without realizing it.

The Grand Duke was looking down at her.

As he shifted his posture, she lifted her gaze as well, and for the first time, she faced him fully — not just his chest, but his eyes.

They were not the soft blue of a summer sky, but something colder: clear and piercing, like the winter heavens on a cloudless day, untouched by snow or shadow.

Reflected in her young, unguarded expression, that wintry gaze seemed to soften, if only slightly.

“To me… you were the only one I could see.”

In that moment, Isabelle came to understand—in her own way—what it meant to fall in love at first sight.

When the music changed, Tenetta stepped away from the dance floor and escorted her back to her parents.

With quiet courtesy, he took his leave, as though his part in the evening was over. As he left, Isabelle stole a glance at his retreating figure, unaware that her gaze lingered, touched with a faint, unspoken regret.

Not long afterwards, as she prepared to return to her estate, a letter arrived from the Minister of Justice of the Empire.

It was an official summons, requesting her presence in court as a witness.

A group had been arrested for luring noblewomen to the ball and distributing illicit substances, one of whom had asked Isabelle for a dance.

When he was brought before the court, he mistook her for another victim and cried out in protest, his voice rising in frantic denial.

“I didn’t do anything to that woman! I only asked her to dance—but the Grand Duke of Achilleton cut in and took her away!”

The commotion died down soon afterwards, but the rumor that the Grand Duke had spent time with the daughter of a provincial noble lingered for a long time.

After the trial ended, Isabelle approached Tenetta, who had also appeared as a witness, as she left the courthouse.

“Thank you… for speaking to me that day.”

Having seen the trial through to the end, Isabelle understood why Tenetta had approached her, even if it meant lying.

The group that had been indicted was notorious for its terrible behavior.

It would have been obvious to anyone that a woman new to the capital could easily fall victim to them.

He had helped her.

The thought that the feelings that had stirred her heart night after night had not been born of interest, but of simple goodwill, stung a little.

Nevertheless, her gratitude remained.

‘At least… I gained one good memory before returning home.’

She murmured it to herself, as though to console her own disappointment.

It was then, as he quietly watched her, that Tenetta asked something entirely unexpected.

“So… will you grant me absolution as well?”

“…Pardon?”

“I approached you with my own intentions, too.”

Isabelle let out a small laugh.

Although she lacked experience in social situations, she recognized this as the kind of light teasing well-mannered men used to prevent a lady from becoming bored.

“What those men intended… wasn’t something as simple as holding hands or sharing a dance.”

“Nor were my intentions.”

The unexpected reply made Isabelle’s eyes widen.

Unsure whether he was speaking seriously or simply continuing the joke, she hesitated.

Tenetta went on,

“At first, I would ask you to dance—naturally take your hand, meet your eyes… and then, when the moment felt right—like this.”

The man—still possessing the very build that had held Isabelle’s gaze—leaned forward slightly.

A large shadow fell over her small frame.

“And lean in like this.”

Tenetta looked down at Isabelle, smiling faintly. She swallowed without realizing.

As his broad frame drew closer to hers, nearly overlapping it, a shiver traced its way down her spine. It wasn’t quite fear. If it were, she would have wanted to run.

Instead, she wanted to be closer.

She felt an impulsive urge to reach out and touch his firm chest. Even now, days after the ball, she hadn’t forgotten the electric sensation of his hand in hers.

She wondered if that same vivid, pulsing warmth lingered near his heart.

Uncertain how to hide such an unfamiliar longing, she could only blink, her eyes warm and unsteady.

Tenetta let out a soft, quiet laugh.

“If things went well, I thought I might make the conversation more… engaging. Become someone you’d regret parting from.”

“……”

“Well, now that I’ve confessed it myself, I suppose there’s no hiding it anymore.”

Once he had finished speaking, Isabelle noticed something for the first time.

His perfect smile was not entirely symmetrical. One side curved higher than the other, and a faint dimple appeared only on his left cheek.

Yet this did nothing to diminish his charm. In fact, it made him even more captivating.

This slight imperfection transformed something already beautiful into something unforgettable — like a masterpiece made even more striking by a single, blessed flaw.

When the smile faded and Tenetta’s gaze shifted, Isabelle realized that he was searching for her parents…who had come to take their daughter home.

Just as he had done at the ball, it seemed he intended to return her safely to their care before quietly taking his leave.

By now, Isabelle understood that his earlier words about having personal intentions had not been mere polite teasing.

This realization left her faintly irritated.

He was drawn to her — and she, undeniably, to him.

And yet he continued to treat her as though she were a young girl in need of protection, even though she was nineteen. An adult.

A quiet impatience stirred within her.

Isabelle parted her lips.

“…And how were you planning to entertain me?”

“Are you curious?”

Isabelle pressed her lips together and nodded slightly.

This time, Tenetta laughed out loud — a rough, uneven sound which was strangely pleasant to hear.