She loved the uniquely delicate and soft fruit aroma that could only be made from grapes grown exclusively in Levizet territory, and the balanced aftertaste that was never light. It was a taste that seemed to resemble Levizet itself, which she had held in her heart from some point on. Mélisande slightly closed her eyes in inexplicable satisfaction. To others’ eyes, it would simply look like she was savoring the taste of wine.

“Good evening, Madame.”

Mélisande awakened from her reverie at the sudden greeting.

A figure was bowing in greeting. Though the movement was perfectly proper, somehow frivolity seemed to seep from its end, making Mélisande imperceptibly frown and then relax. The man raised his head. Objectively, he was tall and handsome.

“I’m sorry, but do I know you?”

At Mélisande’s cold words, the man seemed slightly flustered but soon composed his expression.

“Ah, if I have caused you confusion, I offer my sincere apologies. However, my eyes were blinded by beauty that makes the light of this crystal chandelier pale, and like a butterfly drawn to a flower, I dared to approach despite the impropriety. Though I am but a humble slave of Eros, might I dare to know your name?”

“I believe it is proper etiquette for the one who speaks first to introduce themselves first.”

At the knife-sharp cold response, the man seemed flustered and bit his lips.

“Ah, I apologize. I am Count Édouard Barain.”

“I see, Count Barain. I am the wife of Marquis Antoine Levizet.”

Count Barain, who hadn’t expected such a cold reaction, broke into a slight sweat but soon put on a shy expression.

“I see. To think such a beautiful lady was that marchioness. I didn’t know. However, sadly, flames are already burning in my heart. The tragedy I face is that only you are the rain fairy who can extinguish the flames spreading across the dry field. So I beseech you, would you permit me just one dance to let these flames sleep even briefly?”

Count Barain opened his eyes, said to resemble forget-me-nots, with deep appeal. Few women hadn’t fallen for those deep blue eyes full of melancholy.

However, what he faced was Mélisande with an unexpectedly indifferent expression. And,

“An interesting story is being heard.”

At the sound of a fan being snapped shut against a palm, Count Barain reflexively turned around. What he encountered when he turned was sharp black eyes like those of a predator.

Black pupils comparable to black pearls flashed. On the black hair carefully braided and pinned up sat a tiara with six delicately carved cameos sparkling. The cameos woven with pearl and diamond decorations depicted the faces of six angels believed to protect the imperial family, proving that the owner of this tiara was undoubtedly of imperial blood.

Moreover, the women standing behind her were not mere maids, but clearly noble ones anyone could see. What other woman could dare appear with maids in attendance at an event presided over by the empress? Count Barain hastily prostrated himself.

“Your Highness the Princess.”

“Rise.”

At the princess’s permission, Count Barain hastily rose. Princess Elene raised her chin and asked arrogantly.

“From which family are you, that you’re troubling one who is family to my friend?”

“Trouble? That’s absurd.”

What had he done? He had merely complimented her beauty and asked for one dance, yet suddenly this supreme one appeared to rebuke him. Count Barain, who had been sweating profusely, glanced at Mélisande.

The count, who had thought she would naturally take his side, was however shocked to see Mélisande with a pitiful face, head deeply bowed. Her lake-like eyes were brimming with tears. It seemed someone should immediately offer a handkerchief and comfort her.

This made the situation look very strange. As if he were a scoundrel who had threatened and forcibly harassed a virtuous lady. Count Barain, whose spine grew cold, hastily introduced himself. It was an instinctive outburst of thought that he must immediately appeal to the princess that he was not just some ruffian.

“Ah, I am Count Édouard Barain.”

Princess Elene raised one well-groomed eyebrow.

“The house of Barain is one I’ve never heard of.”

Count Barain hastily added.

“My relative holds the Duke Saint-Simon title. He took me as his heir and transferred one of the titles he holds, the Count Barain title, to me.”

“Ah.”

Elene nodded as if understanding.

“I thought the chamberlain’s judgment had grown dim and let some worthless riffraff into the Silver Room.”

Count Barain, who had inadvertently become worthless riffraff, made a dumbfounded expression, but Elene continued leisurely, paying no heed.

“Then, who is your father? If you’re a relative of Duke Saint-Simon, he must be someone I know well.”

“Ah, my father.”

Count Barain glanced around and continued.

“Holds the Viscount Mort title.”

Elene’s lips twitched. Elene unfolded a folding fan made with ebony handle and silk overlay as if blocking foul air and covered her lower face.

“Then you are the son of Viscount Mort of the Sarcosa region?”

Count Barain, momentarily surprised that the princess knew his family, soon nodded vigorously. He had thought his father was of no help, but somehow the princess was acquainted with him. His heart swelled with expectation of a connection with the princess. Princess Elene opened her mouth.

“Duke Saint-Simon is truly pitiful. He must have had quite a shortage of people to take as heir.”

At the remark that slashed the inflated balloon, his expectations that had soared high came crashing down. Elene’s face showed deep disgust as she looked at Count Barain’s dumbfounded expression.

“Right now, get out of my sight.”

“Yes, yes?”

“I have no more words to mix with a pimp’s son.”

She stared blankly at Princess Elene turning coldly away, but how could she defy the words of the supreme imperial family? Count Barain moved his lips several times but couldn’t bring himself to say anything and left the scene.

Mélisande tilted her head but brushed away the slight question that arose. She wasn’t particularly curious about Count Barain.

“Thank you for helping me, Your Highness.”

“It wasn’t something I did to hear thanks.”

Elene cut off her words sharply.

“Where did Alix go?”

“She stepped away briefly to talk with the new Madame of Lorge.”

Elene twisted her lips slightly.

“How can you accept just any worthless words when Alix isn’t here?”

“He spoke to me first, so I had no choice.”

Mélisande smiled gently.

“By the way, that count from before seemed a bit strange.”

When Elene raised her eyebrows as if asking for the reason, Mélisande answered.

“He acted like he was seeing me for the first time, but he already knew I was married.”

He called me Madame from the very beginning. At Mélisande’s observation, Elene let out an annoyed sigh.

“Truly incomprehensible. I don’t know what purpose he had in approaching you. If worthless riffraff speaks to you in the future, at least mention my name.”

“Oh my, would that be alright?”

“It’s not particularly for your sake. I’m just concerned that Alix would be sad if something happened to your reputation, so don’t misunderstand.”

“Thank you anyway.”

Mélisande smiled brightly.

“Ah, there’s Alix coming.”

A princess born noble, and a marchioness called a lucky woman who succeeded in rising in status through marriage. Without that one person, they would have had no point of contact.

The two women stood side by side watching Alix approach, quickening her steps even more.

***

Elizabeth’s maids skillfully rolled and tucked her reddish-gold hair under a blazing red wig. After applying blood-red rouge to her lips, which she didn’t usually favor, a woman with a completely different atmosphere from her usual self appeared in the glass mirror.

Madame Elizabeth, who had already finished disguising herself as a dryad, a tree spirit, looked at her with a bright smile. Tree branches sprouted between her soft, light brown hair. She frowned slightly and asked.

“What exactly am I disguised as?”

“Well. Would you like to guess?”

Red hair with red makeup. A crimson gown. An outfit that seemed to shout red with her whole body.

“A fire spirit?”

“Hmm, wrong.”

A maid brought a wreath to wear on her head. A rich scent of fresh roses wafted. It was a wreath made by weaving red roses with thorns still attached, though the ends had been blunted.

“Ah, could it be Princess Sharon, the rose princess?”

“Correct!”

Madame Elizabeth clapped her hands. She grimaced recalling the legend of the princess who was trapped in roses by a curse and couldn’t become human until a noble man listened to her story. It wasn’t particularly a story she liked. But she thought it wouldn’t be right to complain about the effort that had been put into preparation, so she just kept her mouth shut.

“So who are you meeting?”

Madame Elizabeth smiled with slight difficulty.

“A childhood friend. She married and went abroad, but she came back briefly for the founding day.”

“Oh my. You must have been very heartbroken to send a friend far away.”

Indeed, it wouldn’t be easy to meet a friend who had married abroad as an officer’s wife. Especially now during wartime.

“Ah, so that’s why you decided to meet at a masquerade ball.”

“Yes, that’s right.”

Madame Elizabeth smiled while slightly avoiding her eyes. Thinking that marriage was truly difficult when one couldn’t even properly meet a friend, she also smiled slightly. After receiving a white half-mask embroidered with red thread and rose embroidery, a coachman guided them to the carriage. The carriage began racing through the night streets, cutting through the darkness.

Next to the Holy Kingdom, Belchia, one of the few wealthy nations, has a legend—not quite a legend—passed down that when they built their embassy in Lamuah, they brought gold worth a galleon’s load.

The story didn’t arise for nothing—the Belchia Embassy, famous for its luxury even in peacetime, was especially extravagant today.

Wine spouted from fountains, and confections made with precious cream and sugar were piled like mountains. Due to lanterns lit among tree branches hung with fluttering satin ribbons, the garden was bright as daylight even though it was past midnight. The highlight among them was the secret ballroom where the masquerade ball was held.