The carriage seat was soft, but Serine couldn’t sit still for a moment. She stole a glance at her younger sister, who was sitting opposite her.

The beautiful sunset cast rich hues over Suzanna’s black hair. Her strikingly pale, slender neck; her refined features; and her crimson eyes made her resemble a ripe red apple. Although she had only recently made her debut in society, she was already considered one of the most desirable brides.

“Why are you staring at me like that, Serine?”

Because you hate going to parties with me.

Serine knew all too well that Suzanna was ashamed of her. When they were young, Suzanna would cry and throw tantrums just to avoid going out with her. As she grew older, she began to use Serine instead.

“Please stop saying such insulting things about my sister! You all know Serine is unwell, don’t you?”

Suzanna had a habit of subtly setting things up so Serine would make mistakes. Then she would step in to fix them herself—using the situation to elevate her own reputation. That was how Suzanna operated.

“Sister, won’t you come with me to Count Tate’s ball today?”

There was no doubt a trap waiting again today. But Serine had no right to refuse.

“I just… I was looking because the ‘low-light’ falling behind you was pretty.”

“Don’t call me ‘Suzu’! How long are you going to treat me like a child?”

“…Sorry.”

“And it’s not ‘falling light,’ it’s ‘sunset.’ Say it properly.”

Serine repeated the word like a parrot until Suzanna finally seemed satisfied.

“There. Now you sound somewhat normal.”

Suzanna lifted her pointed chin with quiet arrogance.

“You’re so stubborn, Sister! If you can’t hear, why don’t you just use sign language? Most nobles learn it as part of their education—it would make communication much easier.”

“I can’t hear, but that doesn’t mean I can’t speak.”

“But you can’t hear, so you don’t even realize how awkward you sound. Do you ever think about how others feel? Or about how embarrassing it is for our family because of you?”

The same argument—repeated hundreds of times—began again. Serine quietly shifted her gaze.

Lip-reading was a skill she had earned through relentless effort. By observing the movement of lips, she could understand most conversations. Like now—if she simply looked away, she didn’t have to “hear” what she didn’t want to.

“Ah—!”

A sharp pain struck across her chest, knocking the breath from her lungs.

“I told you not to look away when I’m speaking.”

“…Sorry.”

When she was younger, Serine would have snapped back and fought with Suzanna. But as she grew older, she became painfully aware of her place.

The one blemish tarnishing an otherwise distinguished lineage. The nuisance who ruined marriage prospects for her siblings.

“Cause trouble one more time, and I’ll shave your head and throw you into the Shepherd Monastery.”

Her eldest brother Raymond’s cold warning surfaced in her mind. Serine shrank in on herself, while Suzanna, in contrast, lifted her chin even higher in pride.

“Come on, let’s make up. It’s a ball we’re attending together as sisters for once, isn’t it? Let’s enjoy ourselves.”

It would only be enjoyable for Suzanna, who could dance.

To begin with, inviting someone who couldn’t hear to a ball was malicious in itself.

***

“Lady Serine of the Penrose family, and Lady Suzanna, now entering!”

At the booming announcement, the guests who had arrived earlier turned their heads.

Suzanna entered with an affectionate air, gently supporting the hesitant Serine. Because of that, Serine appeared far more fragile and incompetent than she truly was.

“Suzanna, I can walk on my own—ah!”

Beneath the hem of their skirts, Suzanna subtly hooked her foot. As Serine stumbled, nearly falling, Suzanna quickly caught her and exclaimed,

“Are you alright? You have to be much more careful than others, Sister! It’s a good thing I came with you.”

To any observer, Suzanna appeared clever and kind. Noblewomen with sons of marriageable age cast covetous glances her way. But those gazes inevitably drifted toward Serine in the end.

Light brown hair that complemented her translucent skin, and pale, water-like eyes that seemed ready to fade away—beside Suzanna, Serine stood out like an unintended brushstroke on an oil painting.

“I haven’t seen Lady Serine at gatherings like this in quite some time. What was it she was afflicted with again?”

“She’s deaf. Though… I doubt that’s all. No matter how desperately Lady Suzanna tries to cover for her, things like that can’t be hidden.”

Rumors had spread that Serine even had an intellectual disability. Unaware that it was Suzanna who had sown such rumors, the noblewomen clicked their tongues in disapproval.

Meanwhile, Suzanna grew increasingly irritated by the attention gathering around Serine.

‘They’re all staring at that deaf girl again.’

What some people desperately struggled to obtain, others possessed effortlessly from birth.

That was why Suzanna despised Serine.

She had even dressed her today in a gaudy wine-colored gown—something only older courtesans would wear—but it made little difference.

“Come here. You can’t dance anyway, can you, Sister?”

Deliberately, Suzanna led Serine toward a quiet, secluded balcony.

“Wait here. There’s someone I want to introduce to you.”

“Introduce…? Who?”

“That’s a secret. And don’t you dare wander off—you’ll be in trouble if you do.”

Suzanna shot her a sharp look before turning on her heel. As she stepped out onto the balcony, she drew the curtains shut, as though hiding something shameful.

The moment Suzanna left, Serine pulled the curtains back open. If she couldn’t hear, then at least she needed to see—otherwise, she felt too uneasy.

Suzanna headed straight for Dulcia Grexton.

That wasn’t a good sign.

Suzanna and Dulcia had grown close by making a game out of tormenting Serine.

‘What are they plotting this time?’

Beside Dulcia stood an unfamiliar young man. Dulcia introduced him to Suzanna.

“The son of Baron Whitelow… Gale. They say he’s quite well-endowed—and exceptionally skilled… Your sister will definitely end up crying out—”

Crying out… for what?

Serine focused, carefully reading their lips, trying to piece it together.

Then, for reasons she couldn’t grasp, people suddenly began crowding into the supper room.

‘Something important’s about to be said, and of all times…’

The flow of guests moved back and forth between the curtains and Suzanna, blocking Serine’s view. Growing restless, she leaned forward, straining to see.

Because of that, she realized it a moment too late.

A man had already slipped over the balcony railing behind her—entering without a sound.

***

A few minutes earlier.

Andrew, the eldest son of Count Tate, was busy greeting guests when he suddenly froze, doubting his own eyes.

‘What on earth—who is that?’

A tall man with a broad, imposing frame and dark hair was striding forward.

Valoid Rigenberg Cardinel. The youngest son of the former king—and Andrew’s former classmate.

“What brings His Highness the Grand Duke to such a humble place? If you were coming, you could have at least said so. Do you know how disappointed my sisters were when you rejected their invitations so bluntly?”

“Quit your nagging. I’m here to drink.”

Andrew quickly sensed the Grand Duke’s foul mood.

“And who managed to anger Your Highness this time?”

“That damned Marquess of Penrose. One of these days, I’ll wring that bastard’s neck.”

“Hey—! The Penrose ladies are here tonight!”

Startled, Andrew hurriedly glanced around. The last thing he needed was a scandal breaking out among the guests.

“Not another word here—just follow me. Quickly!”

He led Valoid to an empty balcony. He drew the curtains and looked out on both sides, but there was no sign of anyone. The curtains on the other side were open, too — there was no one nearby.

If someone had been there, they would have drawn the curtains, as Andrew had done, to ensure their privacy.

“You may speak now.”

“The Cardinel territory I inherited… someone has come forward claiming rights to it.”

“What? That’s absurd! The Cardinel lands haven’t had an owner for the past ninety years, have they?”

“And the one who brought this so-called ‘rightful owner’ to me was the Marquess of Penrose. He’s clearly trying to provoke me. I’ll drag him into court soon and—”

Their conversation was just beginning to gain momentum when Valoid’s expression suddenly hardened.

“Quiet. There’s someone next door.”

“What? I checked earlier—there was definitely no one—”

“Look.”

Valoid parted the curtains slightly and nodded towards the window. Across the way, partially hidden by the balcony drapes, stood a slender woman.

It was dark now, and the color of her dress coincidentally blended in with the curtains — no wonder Andrew had missed her earlier.

Fortunately, she had an unforgettable face.

“There’s no need to worry, Your Highness. That young lady is—ah!”

Impatient as ever, Valoid had already vaulted over the railing.

“Hey!”

Andrew called after him, but the woman didn’t react in the slightest.