“We meet again, Vivianne.”

An unwelcome visitor appeared before Vivianne as she caught her breath in the powder room next to the bathroom. It was the face she least wanted to see at this moment.

“That dress suits you quite well.”

Penelope Steward complimented her in a casual tone.

Looking at their reflection in the mirror made the situation even more apparent. One man, two seats. And two women wearing identical dresses standing beside those seats.

Despite the bizarre situation, Vivianne seemed to be the only one feeling awkward about it.

“Kian must really care for you. Bringing along something he usually just keeps at home, unable to let go.”

“……”

“You’re not a child. Are you some kind of comfort doll to him?”

She kept making snide remarks even without receiving any response. Vivianne knew that when someone spoke excessively without being asked, it stemmed from anxiety.

She had experienced it herself—becoming unusually talkative in front of Kian, constantly seeking reassurance from him.

It was obvious what this woman wanted confirmed.

That Vivianne was nothing to him, just an insignificant existence. That’s what she wanted Vivianne to know in excruciating detail. That must be it.

The situation was too ridiculous to respond to, so she remained silent.

Sharp hostility seemed to press down on her entire body. She felt suffocated. Instinctively, she thought she needed to leave this place. So, she gave a brief bow and tried to exit.

“Wait.”

Penelope blocked the entrance, stopping Vivianne. She moved close to Vivianne and tugged at her neckline with her fingertips. With the sound of tearing fabric, more of Vivianne’s cleavage became exposed.

Her rudeness had now crossed the line of what could be tolerated.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m adjusting it to suit you better. It’s boring if our dresses look exactly the same, isn’t it?”

The adjustment also made the mark Kian had left more visible. Upon discovering this, the corner of Penelope’s mouth twitched grotesquely.

Vivianne could see the moment when the thin thread of composure Penelope had been maintaining finally snapped.

“…Well. You’re wearing something interesting.”

“I want to leave. Please step aside.”

“I can’t. I still have business with you.”

Penelope poked at Vivianne’s mark with the tip of her folded fan.

“How does it feel to come here with something like this and act like a mistress? Do you enjoy it?”

Theodore was waiting outside. If she caused a commotion here, Theodore would be involved. She wanted to resolve this on her own if possible.

Vivianne clenched her fist and looked straight ahead. Penelope’s brow furrowed, seemingly frustrated by her refusal to be intimidated.

“That’s right. You’re too stupid to feel intimidated.”

“What do you mean?”

“You. I’ve been wondering how you can act so boldly without understanding your position. After thinking about it, I realized it must be because you’re ignorant of your situation.”

This woman spoke as though she had heard something from someone—likely someone as hostile toward her as Penelope herself.

Vivianne recalled Countess Spencer muttering that she was stupid.

That she couldn’t see what was right in front of her.

Wearing clothes that didn’t fit her, struggling even to breathe. Don’t just look at what’s in front of you, look at the essence, she had said.

Sharp, sarcastic words, spoken as though offering profound wisdom about life.

Perhaps all noble women saw her the same way.

“That dress. Do you know who bought it before you wore it?”

Penelope suddenly pretended to know about the dress.

“Kian bought it for me.”

“No. Kian may have selected it, but someone else bought it. You didn’t know?”

“What?”

“It’s a dress I sent to Larson. For the doll to wear.”

A dress sent by this woman? And Kian knew this and still chose this dress for her?

“So among all those dresses, Kian didn’t give you one he bought, but made you wear the one I gifted.”

Wearing the same dress on the same day seemed too unlikely to be mere coincidence.

She couldn’t understand his intention.

No, she didn’t want to think about it.

Just the image of him sitting next to that woman, staring intently at her, was enough to make her head feel like it would explode.

“Now, see clearly with your own eyes. Who looks better in this dress.”

She grabbed Vivianne’s shoulders and turned her toward the mirror. Vivianne saw their reflections side by side—Penelope perfectly dressed, and herself with a torn neckline looking disheveled.

“How sad. You don’t even have a fan? How will you cover your exposed chest? Didn’t Kian buy you even these basic necessities?”

“……”

“Here, take mine. It’s hard to find and quite expensive. It’s used, but better than nothing. Consider it a gift to mark the beginning of our friendship.”

As Penelope held out the fan with feigned generosity, Vivianne’s gaze lowered. She answered without hesitation.

“I’ll decline.”

“What?”

“I don’t particularly want to be friends with you.”

She wasn’t the type who could speak harshly. But she clearly drew the line.

“Suit yourself. You’ll be the one suffering. Don’t you think so?”

“That’s fine.”

“What?”

“You want me to be unhappy anyway.”

In front of the surprised Penelope, Vivianne spoke with a clear tone.

“Stop pretending to care about me. I won’t feel any pathetic guilt either.”

She brushed past Penelope and left the powder room. She heard a sharp voice behind her but didn’t bother to listen.

Her tightly clenched fist was trembling without her realizing it.

* * *

The torn neckline was too indecent to show Theodore, so she had to cover it with her hand. Theodore kept asking if she was alright, but she said she was fine. There wasn’t much that could be done about the situation anyway.

The performance must have started, as the corridor was now empty. The thought of returning to the box and sitting next to the empty seat made her feel sick.

But could she return home alone? She had come in Larson’s carriage, and her only destination was the Larson mansion.

No matter where she went, her place was predetermined. A hollow space where Kian’s place existed, but Kian wasn’t there. That unchangeable fact was suffocating.

Vivianne let out a faint sigh and returned to the opera box. He was sitting in the seat that had been empty before the show started.

“Where did you go, Vivi?”

It was Kian.

“…To the lounge.”

Vivianne sat down without making eye contact, looking straight ahead.

“Did you go with Theo?”

“Yes. He’s my escort.”

“Right. Good thing you went before it started. You can’t leave once it begins.”

She thought he might respond sharply, but Kian didn’t press the matter.

“Where were you… Kian?”

“Why ask when you already saw?”

A short laugh escaped at her conventional question. He must have seen everything—her startled reaction, dropping the glass, hiding. Her face flushed with indignation.

There was a question she had wanted to ask but couldn’t until now.

Some said he wouldn’t answer honestly even if asked. Others said it was a futile question to begin with.

But she couldn’t keep burying it in a corner of her heart.

“Are you going to marry your fiancée, Kian?”

Vivianne swallowed hard and watched Kian.

“Does sitting next to someone briefly mean I’ll marry them?”

“What?”

“By that logic, I could marry you too. The performance has started, and I’m sitting next to you.”

“……”

When he countered like this, she had nothing to say.

“Vivi. I’ve felt this since you kept talking about the waltz—you don’t seem to trust me.”

“…That’s…”

Could it be? Did he know why she had kept bringing up the waltz?

Well, it had been in the newspapers. Kian, who diligently read the papers, would certainly know what articles had been written about him.

So he knew everything, and still didn’t come to the waltz practice.

That realization felt like a heavy stone pressing down on her heart once more.

“Well, I admit I made you anxious. But still.”

Kian tilted his head sideways to look at her as she stared straight ahead. His elegant face filled her field of vision.

“Vivi, you need to trust me. Nothing else.”

His face showed no particular expression. No desperate desire for trust, no indignant need to explain himself. She couldn’t read any of these normal emotions on his dry countenance.

Right. Such emotions wouldn’t suit this enigmatic man anyway.

Just that characteristic intense gaze.

His eyes, seemingly puzzled about why she couldn’t trust him, bored into her with an eerie persistence. As she froze in place, Kian gently removed Vivianne’s hand covering her neckline and brought it to his lips.

“Trust me. Okay?”

After asking, as though seeking confirmation, he placed a brief kiss on her fingertip. The trembling at the tips of her fingers vanished beneath his lips.

As if he wouldn’t tolerate even that trembling.

“By the way, Vivi.”

Suddenly, a sharp glint flashed in his dark eyes.

“Who did this to you?”

As his gaze pierced through her torn neckline, she felt a distant chill.