“Oh my. So it’s true you only recently learned proper etiquette?”

“Indeed, it seems so.”

Just moments ago, those same voices had been busy with mockery. Now, faced with her graceful bearing and elegant movements, they could only marvel.

“As expected of the White ducal bloodline.”

“There really is something different about the House of White.”

“Truly worthy of the name White.”

Hearing the nobles’ changed appraisal, Breti let out a quiet sigh of relief in her heart.

At the very least, she had passed the first trial. It was a relief, but there was no telling what might happen from here on.

Breti poured even more care into ensuring not the slightest flaw could be found in her conduct.

Meanwhile, not everyone was pleased with the nobles’ sudden reversal of opinion.

‘So the blow landed on me instead.’

The Empress, Eglét, clenched her fists and bit down hard on her teeth.

How could a girl who had only just returned to the ducal mansion after ten long years possibly execute the etiquette so flawlessly?

This wasn’t how Eglét had planned it.

She had expected the so-called lady, newly returned from the dead, to falter in front of the gathered nobles, displaying her lack of refinement.

She had wanted to watch them sneer and mock her.

She had hoped it would cast even the faintest shadow over the White family’s prestige.

But instead—so perfect, so flawless…

‘White, always White!’

It seemed inviting Breti to the Imperial ball had been a grave mistake.

Forcing her expression smooth, Eglét curved her lips into a light smile.

“You must have spent so many years away from your family’s care… How difficult it must have been, Lady.”

“Your gracious concern is deeply appreciated, Your Majesty,”

Breti replied, her voice clear and serene.

At the sound of her pure, lilting tone—like that of a minstrel—those nearby exchanged startled glances, their ears enchanted.

Again, Eglét ground her teeth behind her smile.

“And how is your mother? I heard that she’s still bedridden because of the heart condition she’s had since childhood. I must admit that I have been worried about her.”

“Her Majesty has been recovering little by little since Laterna returned.”

Karsten answered smoothly, his lips curling into a relaxed smile.

“I will be sure to convey Your Majesty’s regards to her.”

With a faint smile, Eglét turned once more to Breti.

“If you should find yourself troubled by anything, do not hesitate to tell me, Lady.”

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

It was at that moment—

From the seat of honor, someone rose and began making their way toward them.

“I hear you’ve been busy keeping this lovely sister of yours hidden.”

The one approaching was none other than Crown Prince Fedriol.

As Breti watched him draw near, her shoulders gave an involuntary shiver. There was something in his piercing blue eyes that filled her with unease.

“You mustn’t keep her hidden away forever.”

He said, striding closer and laying a hand casually on Karsten’s shoulder.

Breti noticed the faint tightening of Karsten’s lips, the ease in his expression slipping for the briefest instant.

“That was never my intention. Despite myself, it seems to have turned out that way.”

He replied—though this time, a light smile curved his mouth.

“I’ve heard your affection for your sister is unparalleled… Still, do make sure she joins you at gatherings like this from time to time, Duke.”

“Yes, Your Highness. I shall do so.”

Just then, the orchestra struck up, signaling the start of the dance.

At the sudden swell of music, Breti’s eyes flicked nervously. She had devoted all her preparation to mastering court etiquette, but dancing was another matter entirely.

“Laterna.”

While she faltered, unsure of what to do, Karsten called her name and extended his hand. The way he held it out made it clear she was meant to take it at once.

Flustered, Breti placed her hand in his. With effortless grace, Karsten guided her toward the center of the hall.

Every gaze in the room turned upon them.

Then, without hesitation, Karsten’s hand slid to her waist. Breti startled, her body trembling at the touch. Their eyes met in the air between them. As she gazed into his cool, unwavering eyes, Breti’s heart began to pound wildly.

“There’s no need to be nervous.”

“…”

“Just leave yourself to me.”

His cold voice brushed against her ear. And yet, strangely, the tension that had wrapped around her body melted away in an instant.

Then the music started.

With his hand steady on her waist, he guided her smoothly across the dance floor. Each turn and movement felt as fluid and natural as a flowing stream, with her hand in his.

Onlookers gasped with admiration.

After a few bars, Karsten drew her closer, tightening his grip on her waist. Suddenly, they were close enough to feel each other’s breath.

Flustered, Breti averted her eyes.

Every place his touch lingered — on her waist or in their joined hands — tugged at her thoughts.

It felt like the faintest hint of tenderness from him, enough to make the moment seem like a dream.

‘I don’t want this song to end.’

She repeated the wish silently, again and again. That the melody might never cease, that it might go on forever.

But as the song reached its climax, its end swiftly drew near. At the final notes, the two exchanged a graceful bow, and the dance came to a close.

Though the music had long faded, Breti’s heart still pounded uncontrollably.

While she was struggling to steady it, Sierra approached Karsten.

“Your Highness, would you grant me the next dance?”

Her sudden grasp on his arm made his brow twitch faintly.

“Lady White, could you spare your brother to me, just this once?”

“Ah… yes.”

“Lady Etro, forgive me, but—”

“I’ll wait on the balcony, Brother.”

Breti cut in quickly, before he could refuse.

“Oh my, thank you!”

Sierra’s lips curved into a delighted smile.

Sierra beamed as she lightly tugged at Karsten’s arm.

Breti’s gaze fell on the hand Sierra had so easily laid upon him.

‘I’m not even permitted to touch him… yet she can, so freely.’

The reality weighed on her, casting a faint shadow over her heart.

Moments later, the orchestra began playing again.

“Your Highness, let’s go.”

Sierra urged, leading Karsten back toward the hall.

Though he cast a lingering glance at Breti, Karsten allowed himself to be drawn away. Soon, the two of them were dancing, their figures moving together like a painting brought to life.

Watching them, a wave of emotion Breti dared not name crashed over her chest. If she kept looking any longer, she felt she might be swept away by it—and lose herself completely.

Hurriedly, she turned and made her way toward the balcony.

‘You’re out of your mind, Breti.’
‘What are you even thinking? To dare such thoughts… Have you lost your senses?’

She was in the midst of chastising herself when a low, unfamiliar voice reached her ears.

“Lady, what are you doing out here?”

Turning her head, she found Crown Prince Fedriol standing there, a glass of wine in his hand.

“Your Highness.”

Breti said quickly, bowing to him with proper courtesy.

But when she straightened, Fedriol was already standing directly before her. His hand brushed against her cheek.

“No need for formalities—we’ve already exchanged greetings. I only came to have a little talk.”

He set his wine glass down on a table nearby and leaned closer, his subtle touch making every nerve in her body stand on edge.

“Wh-what is it you want…?”

The touch was chillingly familiar. She had endured it countless times back in Aurora.

Breti struggled, trying to push him away.

“Please… stop. Your Highness.”

She couldn’t risk overstepping into rudeness, so she couldn’t muster the boldness to defy him outright. But the more she tried to resist, the closer the Crown Prince pressed in.

He leaned nearer, so near she could feel the intent of his lips about to claim hers. Breti turned her head sharply to the side, desperate to escape.

And at that very moment—

“Laterna.”