However, why was he giving it to her now? The moment he gently took her hesitating hand and placed it on the necklace, a name she had kept to herself slipped out.

“……What about your other lady?”

Lysander was silent for a moment. Puzzlement appeared on his face.

“Other lady?”

Why was he acting like it was the first time he’d heard of it? The rumors were widespread!

“That…… I heard there was another lady to whom you promised to dedicate victory……”

When she trailed off, Lysander said firmly.

“That’s a false rumor.”

But for a false rumor, its tail was quite specific. For something to be a false rumor, it should be groundless talk, but the story that spread was quite credible.

And, where there’s no fire, there’s no smoke. Well, of course, in the court there existed language alchemists who could make not just smoke but mushroom clouds rise from chimneys without fire, but he wasn’t from the court but the north. And a battlefield at that.

“……But I definitely heard it. That you even exchanged handkerchiefs! That you never let that handkerchief leave your chest, definitely……”

“……Handkerchief?”

Lysander looked truly puzzled. What, was it really a false rumor? Confusion settled over them.

“I definitely heard about Miss Victoire.”

“Victoire?”

At the words she uttered carelessly, Lysander’s face became serious.

“Did you just say Victoire?”

Ah, she had said it. Feeling somehow like she had misspoken, she clamped her mouth shut like a clam. Lysander let out a light sigh.

“For it to spread even to the court, there must indeed be someone in the army running their mouth carelessly.”

At his tone that didn’t deny it, a corner of her heart sank with a thud. The heart that had been like a cruise ship peacefully crossing the night sea just moments before felt like it had collided with a reef.

Actually, whether he had a lady or not wasn’t her business. Had she inwardly hoped he would firmly deny it? Why was her heart sinking?

Whether he knew her feelings or not, Lysander opened his mouth with calmly settled eyes.

“I’ll tell you the truth. The identity of ‘Miss Victoire’ is you.”

“What, what?”

She asked back with a foolish face.

“I didn’t know they would actually take ‘Victoire’ as a person’s name and even spread rumors about it.”

Lysander even seemed pleased. If Victoire wasn’t a name, then what was it! The Victoires she knew were one, two, three…… How many were there just in the court?

Wait, Victoire in the court?

Her thoughts reached the Victoire angel painted in the Palace of Discretion and even the fresco about the founding emperor Augustus’s anecdote. The Victoire here was interpreted as a metaphor for ‘victory’ rather than a person or angel itself.

Right. The word ‘Victoire’ itself had the meaning of triumph or victory. Then, could it be?

“Didn’t I tell you that you are my angel of victory?”

Though his tone was disappointed, a beaming smile hung on his face. Without knowing it, she pressed her forehead. I can’t live!

“How can you attach other words when there’s a perfectly good person’s name!”

“I’m sorry. However, I didn’t want others to know. Didn’t you also say you didn’t want to attract others’ attention?”

“That, I appreciate that, but……”

Unable to continue, she made a tearful face. What, was I being conscious of myself? How embarrassing! She bit her lip slightly when Lysander’s question suddenly came.

“By any chance, were you jealous?”

“……What kind of rude question is that?”

When she shot back sharply, he laughed low. Annoyingly, even his laughter was handsome and caused a fuss.

“I’m sorry. But if you were jealous, I would be very happy.”

Because it would mean you were conscious of me.

At his subtly shameless tone, she just pursed her lips when suddenly another thought occurred to her. Then what about the handkerchief?

“Then, what about the handkerchief? I don’t remember giving you anything like a handkerchief.”

Hmm. He stroked his chin and fell into thought.

“I don’t remember carrying around a handkerchief either.”

Puzzled silence circulated in the night air. Suddenly, as if something had occurred to him, he made an “ah” sound. She stared at him intently, and Lysander took out a white cloth from his coat’s inner pocket.

“They might have misunderstood seeing this.”

Oh!

She pointed at the long ivory-colored ribbon he had taken out and shouted. That’s my lost ribbon!

The pattern of Count Tire’s cat and Marquis Levizet’s lily intertwined. She had been disappointed when she couldn’t find it on the day she lost it, but quickly forgot about it. Sophie had arranged for a skilled embroidery craftsman, so she had even ordered the same ribbon again.

“What, why do you have that!”

“I picked it up.”

She was stunned at his seemingly shameless attitude. No, if you picked it up, you should have found the owner instead of taking it and causing strange rumors! She held out her hand.

“Give it back.”

“I can’t. It’s my victory charm.”

He quickly tucked the ribbon into his chest. Perhaps feeling her slightly glaring gaze, Lysander took a defensive posture with his whole body, saying he couldn’t win the war without this.

At that sight, she was beyond incredulous and completely deflated. Actually, since she had already ordered the same thing, there wasn’t really a reason she had to get it back, but why was he keeping it? Ridiculous, really!

“Then let’s call it a trade. You take this cordelite necklace, and you give me your crest.”

Her heart stirred at his persuasion. In a corner of her mind, temptation that sprouted like a snake whispered. Wouldn’t it be okay to take at least a memento of this night?

Later in the distant future, when she married someone else and would never see him, the grand duke of the north, for the rest of her life, if it was a memento she could occasionally take out and look at when it caught her eye in her jewelry box.

So she could keep her own little secret that would let her reminisce about memories that were like a midsummer night’s dream.

What he kept was just a simple ribbon, so couldn’t she burn away the fragment of first love whenever it weighed on her mind?

The moment she came to her senses, she was already reaching for the cordelite necklace. Teacher, I’m sorry. Your unworthy foolish disciple is cultivating a garden of self-rationalization in this life too.

The major shareholder of the self-rationalization garden said.

“I’ll put it on for you.”

He who had quickly snatched the necklace stood behind her like lightning. He carefully swept up her hair. The fine hairs on her nape stood up in the cool air.

She had thought hands that gripped swords would be hard and rough, but the touch she felt was unexpectedly warm. She was grateful for the mask once again. As the hook was fastened with a clicking sound, she felt a substantial weight on her nape.

When she lowered her eyes slightly, the night sea was shining where her collarbones met at both shoulders. It tickled.

Perhaps, the emotion that bloomed in her heart right now—

When she lightly brought her fingertip to the cordelite, Lysander smiled.

If it’s the same as yours.

Perhaps, if she cast aside the thought that she had to follow the original novel….

“Now the promised time has passed.”

Before her thoughts could even extend, she blinked at the notification like a bell announcing twelve o’clock. Already? It didn’t seem like much time had passed. She kicked away the regretful feeling that rose like Cinderella caught by curfew and pushed it down. Lysander held out his hand.

“Please mount the horse. I’ll escort you to Rauli Palace.”

***

She didn’t even know what state of mind she had returned in. When she came to her senses, she was standing behind Rauli Palace. Lest anyone see, she quickly returned to the Palace of Charity and opened the door with the amaryllis pattern engraved on it.

The moment she opened the door, what entered her sight was….

“Ah…… Alix, you’re back.”

It was Mélisande sitting on the sofa, still unable to undo her formal attire. When she looked at her somewhat stunned, Mélisande continued as if making excuses.

“Oh, just for a moment…… I dozed off while waiting. Now I should undo my attire and prepare for bed.”

For someone who had dozed off, there wasn’t even a trace of dishevelment in her carefully arranged hair.

Anyone could see this was the appearance of someone who had waited until this hour.

What would she have been waiting for? The answer was obvious.

‘I’m sorry, madam. I’ll come to see you shortly.’

The female protagonist who had placed great expectations on one empty promise her husband had casually thrown out, and waited until this hour when morning was closer than night, wearing a dress that constricted her body.

The original story hadn’t changed.

Antoine’s love was still with Caleb, and Mélisande was still treated coldly.

The blood that had been warming her cheeks following her racing heart just moments before felt like it was cooling coldly. What had she done?

The only path where Mélisande could be saved, new love.

To dare harbor feelings for the person who would become her true companion. She had almost ruined Mélisande’s salvation with her own hands.

After forcing a smile for Mélisande who was looking at her worriedly, she ran into the side room and closed the door. With trembling hands, she unfastened the necklace. Lest anyone see the sea-colored light seeping through her fingers, she hastily covered it and opened the jewelry box in the deepest drawer, where she kept gems she no longer sought because they were tiresome or out of fashion.

She crumpled the cordelite necklace into the box, locked the jewelry box with a key, and firmly sealed the drawer door. Like crushing a newly sprouted bud with a shoe heel.

After composing her breathing and going out, she saw that maids who had managed to stay awake despite the late hour had come in to attend to her. She spoke to the oldest maid among them, whom she trusted.

“When day breaks, send word to Mother. Tell her I want to see her.”

She would sprinkle salt on the trampled sprout.