During the founding festival period, young men and women from prominent noble families gather in the capital Fadesa. Among them, young sons and daughters, as young people typically do, cannot suppress their vigor.

Stiff official events bound by the shackles of etiquette. Young blood unsatisfied with these sought breathing holes and burrowed like loaches here and there. Therefore, it was natural that masquerade balls became popular, where they could throw off strict dress codes that had to follow etiquette from stockings to shawls, and enjoy themselves in provocative and sensual attire with faces hidden.

From those who just wore half-masks for courtesy, to people who came fully dressed as fairy tale characters, the unwritten rule of masquerade balls where various human types gathered was just one: hiding each other’s identities in the shadows.

Naturally, all sorts of things happen. A place where a mere maid and a prince spend a night together, where children of enemy houses fall for each other, where political enemies who fought grabbing each other’s collars in the Privy Council become drinking buddies. The masquerade ballroom is a separate world divorced from reality. The moment one leaves the venue, the events here become things of a one-night dream.

Even so, this is too much. She inwardly shook her head watching the goddess of the hunt clinging to a wolf mask while pretending to be drunk.

The masquerade balls she had mainly attended following Antoine and Caleb in childhood were truly wholesome and family-oriented. Of course, even at such balls, there weren’t no men and women who caught each other’s eyes and disappeared to find some empty room, but they weren’t so openly decadent.

She stared blankly at a cat sharing a deep kiss with Bluebeard, then hastily averted her gaze when their eyes seemed to meet. Really, Madame, meeting what friend in such a place? She awkwardly received a glass of fruit wine and tried to focus on the band’s performance while sipping.

She listened to the sounds. The tearing technique of violins, the low rumbling of cellos, and the trills of chirping flutes combined to create a strange symphony that drummed at her ears. That’s when it happened.

“……Then, let’s do that.”

A familiar voice she had heard throughout her life was heard too clearly. The feeling was too distinct, like oil separated and floating on water, to dismiss as a mistake due to noise. She reflexively turned her head as if bouncing.

Why are you here? She muttered inwardly in bewilderment.

Though they wore masks covering their entire faces and black robes that made even their body types unidentifiable, the reddish-gold hair visible underneath was unmistakable.

Blond hair was quite a common hair color, but how could she not recognize the same texture and color as hers?

Antoine. And standing next to him was Caleb.

She hastily averted her gaze. Though she hadn’t committed any crime, she somehow felt awkward about facing them. Of course, there would be no way they could recognize her, disguised with Elizabeth’s maids’ wholehearted effort. Even she found her reflection in the mirror unfamiliar.

As expected, Antoine and Caleb didn’t recognize her and moved away. They seemed absorbed in some serious conversation, their attention entirely focused on each other. What passed between them beyond their masks would be tender gazes that only they could recognize.

She sighed and raised her head. Surely they wouldn’t suddenly turn around and come questioning whether the rose princess resembled their sister. She fixed her gaze on the retreating figures. The robes of the two men moving away fluttered slightly in the wind.

Ah.

A sudden shock struck her heart and passed through.

On their necks, briefly revealed,

golden chains hung.

***

Noble gentleman, please listen to my words.

My name is Sharon, princess of the eastern kingdom.

An evil sorcerer, rejected in his proposal to me, became enraged

and drew a cursed painting with rooster’s egg, monkshood extract, and condemned man’s bone powder

to trap me, the king’s daughter, within roses.

There is only one way to break the curse.

If one of noble birth and pure character

kisses the petals where the first dew forms each dawn

seven times for seventy days.

However, the feeble plea of a flower soon to wither

could never reach the noble one, and always scattered into the air.

⟨Lamuah Folk Tales, Princess Sharon of the Roses⟩

Even as she filled her mouth with sweet fruit wine, the bitterness wouldn’t fade. She gave halfhearted responses to Elizabeth, who was gently trying to stop her from drinking, and kept emptying her glasses—one, two… She stopped after five. Annoyingly, she wasn’t even getting tipsy. At some point, Madame Elizabeth had vanished. Had she gone to meet that friend?

The crowd around her had thinned. One by one, they must have gone off to find partners. Well, whether there are few or many people, it’s none of my business. Ignoring the music, she pulled out a chair and sat down. She even snatched an entire drink tray from a passing servant and set it beside her.

This would be unthinkable at parties she usually attended. It would be gossip material for about three years for being undignified. But so what? Thanks to the wholehearted disguise, no one would know she was Alix of Levizet.

Her face was all covered, the layers of red cloth clothing didn’t reveal her figure, and she was even wearing a wig. Well, they might be able to distinguish by eye color, but how many people could distinguish the color of pupils glimpsed under a mask in this dim and subtle lighting? Besides, who could imagine that the great Alix Levizet would be drinking alone?

Her current appearance would probably look a bit pitiful rather than elegant solitary drinking. She washed down her bitter smile with a sip of alcohol. Ah, instead of drinking alone like this, she wanted to sit someone down and have chicken feet with soju. Actually, she just wanted to exchange any words with someone. Wasn’t there anyone suitable to be a drinking companion?

“Rose, what troubles weigh upon your heart?”

She quickly raised her head at the sudden presence. A tall figure appeared. It was a white mask covering his entire face except for his mouth. The only thing she could identify was his dark blond hair. She blinked blankly, then realized his words were lines from the prince in the ‘Princess Sharon of the Roses’ legend.

Lines where the prince, who had been on an adventure, heard the sad voice of a rose blooming beside the thicket where he lay to rest and asked what was wrong. Personally, she thought it was a ridiculous fairy tale.

Lying down to rest and having a plant talk to you. Where exactly on a rose would be its mouth to speak? When thinking of a flower’s mouth, she could only think of the toothed carnivorous plant from a certain game where you had to break through the mushroom kingdom to save the princess. Honestly, this was a bit of a horror.

She glanced over the figure waiting for an answer. Even though she was soaked in alcohol, he had managed to recognize her as the rose princess.

“It’s nothing special.”

Even at her indifferent response, the man persisted.

“As one who has become a knight, comforting a lady’s sorrow is also my duty.”

She considered just sending away the man who seemed quite immersed in the prince role, then tapped the chair beside her.

“Then, please keep me company with some drinks.”

She needed a drinking companion anyway. It was an impulsive entertainment created by a mixture of intoxication and confidence that no one would recognize her.

He readily sat down. She handed him a glass and started the conversation.

“How did such a noble gentleman come to be here?”

“Would it be strange if I said I was drawn by your fragrance?”

She chuckled.

“Oh my, are you admitting that you’re noble?”

At the mischievous teasing, the blond man’s lips momentarily stiffened. His lips pressed into a line and the jawline beneath looked like a sculpture of a foreign sun god made of marble. For a moment, she felt the impulse to remove his mask.

Would the features beneath the mask be as sculptural and handsome, or was it an optical illusion created by alcohol and the mask? She withdrew her hand that had almost reached out unconsciously and picked up another glass. The man opened his mouth as if changing the subject.

“You haven’t answered my first question yet.”

It took her a moment to realize the content, distracted by the subtle tone that reached her ears. First question? What was that?

“I would like to know why you are lost in sorrow.”

“Ah.”

She shrugged her shoulders.

“I don’t particularly want to talk about it.”

“But, rose. If I don’t know, how can I comfort you? I want to know.”

At his subtly persistent words, she slightly twisted her lips and opened her mouth.

“For free?”

If you call me a rose, then I’ll become a rose of capitalism. The man seemed flustered and was silent for a moment.

“……Then, how about we make a wager? If I win, you tell me the story.”

Hmm. She was bored, so this seemed like good timing.

“Then what will you wager, gentleman?”

He pondered for a moment, then removed a button from his cuff.

“How about this?”

Cufflinks with high-purity sapphires embedded. Looking at the carefully engraved eagle carving, it seemed to be quite an expensive item. But it didn’t particularly interest her.

“Well, I have quite a few gems myself.”

At her lukewarm response, he was silent for a moment, then suddenly spoke out of nowhere.

“Do you find this alcohol to your taste?”

She couldn’t understand his intention, so she narrowed her eyes briefly.

“Of course. I’d say this is quite decent fruit wine.”

He laughed lowly.

“Is that so? But personally, I think alcohol that can truly be called good should be at least this level.”

When he gestured, someone appeared from somewhere. The blond man received a bottle. At first glance, it looked stained and shabby. But the E letter engraved on the cork and the four-winged pattern surrounding it were……

“Saint Ernestine Abbey?”