Many believed that the President’s refusal to court noblewomen was simply groundwork, a strategy for eventually choosing the finest name to marry into. It was only natural that daughters of distinguished houses could not accept an Iris Mora they had never heard of.

“I’ll go over. I’d like to say hello to the charming new face.”

Evelyn Spencer was one such woman.

“Why should you be the one to go first, Miss Spencer?”

“Is there a rule about who goes first? It would be nice to be friends.”

“You’re far too soft, Miss Spencer. Once she’s set foot in society, she’ll have no choice but to make an impression on you. Wait and she’ll come.”

What set Evelyn Spencer apart was that she had polished her aristocratic manner better than anyone. She smiled pleasantly at the pitiful young women who volunteered themselves as ladies-in-waiting.

“You’ve been investigated by Comus again this time…… You must not be terribly pleased.”

“That publication is no different from profiting off the President’s reputation.”

“Using a university connection this way……”

Meanwhile, the people gathered around Iris were all talking to Carlyle about Comus. Iris recalled the magazine she had glimpsed at the boutique. What on earth was it, that it was digging into the President’s affairs.

“I don’t mind. Everyone has their own business to run.”

Carlyle smiled pleasantly, the corners of his eyes curving as though it were nothing.

A competitor of some kind, perhaps. While Iris was still working that out, a man suddenly cut through the crowd.

“Well! If it isn’t Mr. Berthheimer.”

The moment he appeared, the people around them fell silent at once.

“Mr. Brandon, you’re here as well.”

Carlyle shook Davis’s extended hand politely. Their eyes met briefly in the air between them.

“Good evening, Miss Mora. Davis Brandon.”

Davis’s gaze moved next to Iris, as was only natural. He bowed courteously toward her, the corners of his eyes crinkling.

“I’m Iris Mora……. How do you know my name?”

Iris had been mechanically dipping into a curtsy when her eyes went wide.

“I’m the one who makes that very publication, Comus. There’s nothing I don’t know.”

The moment Davis introduced himself, the people nearby began to quietly drift away.

“Ah, yes…… I see. How impressive, publishing a magazine.”

“Ha ha ha! Thank you.”

Iris smiled demurely at him. She couldn’t very well pretend she had no idea what Comus was, standing in front of the man who made it, so she acknowledged it with appropriate familiarity, and for some reason Davis laughed.

“You suit each other well, you two.”

Davis’s tone still carried a trace of amusement as he looked between them. Carlyle only smiled faintly as before. Iris couldn’t quite bring herself to say thank you either, and answered with an uncertain smile.

“Looking at the necklace, I believe there’s someone nearby who you would be glad to meet. Shall we go over?”

After offering a few more lavish compliments on Iris’s necklace, Davis made an unexpected suggestion. She had no way of knowing he was simply following Carlyle’s instructions.

“Someone I…… know?”

“But of course. Any Volterran would know Sir Michel Bardo.”

This time Davis let Iris’s origins slip with perfect naturalness. Iris blinked twice in quick succession.

‘He even knows I’m Volterran?’

It was surprising, and somewhat unsettling. Her curiosity about Comus deepened.

“Shall we go?”

Carlyle stroked Iris’s long hair with his long, straight fingers, as though in praise, and curved his eyes at her. Those cool, crescent-shaped eyes seemed to be telling her she should. Iris swallowed and nodded.

The two of them followed Davis across the room. The crowd’s eyes turned to follow Iris as she passed.

“Ah, Mr. Berthheimer.”

Michel spotted Carlyle rising above the crowd without difficulty.

“When did you arri……”

His words trailed off as his gaze dropped to the woman who reached Carlyle’s shoulder.

His necklace was walking toward him.

“Hello, Sir Bardo. It’s quite something to meet someone I’ve only ever seen in the papers here in Lafreia.”

Only after Iris beamed at him did Michel’s eyes rise to her face.

She realized she had been so caught up in the surprise that she had forgotten to introduce herself, and quickly dipped into a curtsy and gave her name. Coming partly because of Carlyle, she still felt a particular thrill at seeing a celebrity from her own country in the flesh. Iris added that she too had come from Volterra.

She did not use Imperial with Michel. Even Iris knew it was poor manners to speak a language others in the room couldn’t follow, just to have a private exchange.

“A fellow countryman! What a delight.”

Michel smiled warmly and replied with natural courtesy in Lafreia’s language. Then he glanced sideways at Carlyle and let out a small laugh. Carlyle was watching him with a crooked smile that seemed to ask whether he was satisfied.

“Do you like my necklace, Miss Mora?”

After a few polite pleasantries, Michel turned to Iris.

First the necklace, then the charming air and the fresh face. A model designed to draw the eye naturally and spark curiosity. It was only natural to be pleased.

“Is this necklace…… from your jewelry house, Sir Bardo?”

Iris’s voice held a mixture of puzzlement and dawning understanding.

So that was why he had nudged her to come over.

“It is. Designed after Larochelle in the south of Volterra.”

“Oh! The island with the beautiful emerald sea, you mean.”

“Exactly. Wearing it, Miss Mora, you look like a fairy of Larochelle.”

“You’re too…… too kind……”

“Ha ha, have you been to Larochelle? The oysters eaten overlooking the sea are extraordinary.”

“I’ve never been. What’s it like?”

Larochelle was a wealthy resort city beloved by Volterra’s nobility.

Iris’s eyes lit up as she kept her questions going with Michel. Like a curious fairy enchanted by the human world, she opened the conversation so that those standing nearby could join in as well. Carlyle and Davis chimed in at just the right moments. People began gathering around them one by one.

「The sand on the beach at Larochelle is wonderfully soft.」

「I’ve been as well. The row of white villas is quite a sight.」

The Volterrans were speaking in Lafreia’s language, while Lafreia’s nobility had switched to Volterra’s. Even when they didn’t catch everything, they nodded along, pretending to follow.

Not a soul was unaware that speaking another language in front of someone who couldn’t understand it was rude. But what mattered to them was using Michel’s presence as an opportunity to display their own refinement.

❖ ❖ ❖

“……”

Evelyn watched the warm scene unfolding in the distance and kept her smile in place with effort. She had been waiting all this time, and the woman had not spared her a single glance.

She understood that Carlyle didn’t make the rounds greeting people. He was someone who drew others to him, never the one who went to them. But the woman was a different matter.

Every one of the President’s notable lovers up until now had always made a point of greeting Evelyn. The Spencer comital house was a distinguished family that had produced a queen, and she was its only daughter, cherished by her father. It was only natural.

Yet this newcomer, draped in Carlyle’s jewels, seemed not even to register Evelyn’s existence.

‘How lowly must she be.’

There was only one reason she wouldn’t recognize her. Someone from the lower classes who had never had the chance to hear of her or see her. Thinking of that sorry life, Evelyn decided it might be worth showing her what society looked like. That was surely why she had attached herself to the President in the first place.

Social mobility. Evelyn despised that phrase, which she had been hearing far too often lately.

She began to move.

“Miss Spencer, where are you going?”

“Oh, just to swap out my champagne.”

“Have a staff member do it!”

“It’s fine. It’s nothing.”

She smiled pleasantly, as she always did, and walked toward the table near Carlyle’s group. Pretending to set down her glass, she nudged the empty glass beside it.

Crash.

The sharp shatter of breaking glass rang out. Every nearby gaze snapped to Evelyn Spencer at once. Among them were Carlyle and Iris Mora.

“Oh! I’m so sorry.”

Evelyn pressed a hand to her lips with wide, startled eyes. Staff came rushing over to clear away the glass.

“Are you all right, Miss Spencer?”

A gentleman standing at the edge of Carlyle’s group came forward and offered his hand. Evelyn took it and walked over, joining the group with easy naturalness.

“I do hope I haven’t spoiled the mood.”

Evelyn wore a suitably distressed expression.

While a few people fussed over her, Evelyn lifted her gaze to Carlyle.

“It’s been a while, Mr. Berthheimer.”

“……It has. Miss Spencer.”

Carlyle looked down at the smiling Evelyn and returned the same words briefly.

The people in the group offered Evelyn light greetings one after another. She answered each in turn, then brought her eyes to meet Iris’s light brown ones. Iris gave a small start at the eye contact from the woman who looked like a fine porcelain doll.