Eris lifted her chin at those words, gaze rising to the enamel glass overhead.
Even if her young mind wasn't the sharpest, Hilda's explanation made it impossible not to understand what her mother was implying.
Still, the idea of choosing a husband didn't feel real to her at all.
And marrying some man and spending her whole life with him? That sounded… strange.
Why get married?
But—
She did understand the feeling of "liking" someone.
She liked her grandfather, liked Ghislane, liked her mother, liked Allen, and liked Sylphy.
But—
This kind of "like" was clearly different from the way her mother and father felt about each other.
The only boy she actually wanted to dance with was Allen… but even that didn't feel the same as her parents.
Frowning, Eris asked,
"I don't even know them. Why should I choose? Can I just not pick anyone?"
Hilda glanced at her lightly.
"I told you—the choice is yours. Of course you can. Many nobles do set engagements at ten, but your father has no demands on you yet. Still, you should start cultivating your feminine charm now. Otherwise, when your fifteenth birthday banquet comes, if there's someone you like and he rejects you, that will be troublesome. Look—Sylphy is younger than you, but she's already doing very well in that regard."
Eris turned to Sylphy.
Sylphy, still recovering from the mental image of Allen politely refusing her with a bow, gaped in shock.
Frantically, she waved her hands.
F-f-feminine charm? Where?!
She didn't notice that while her attention was elsewhere, Allen had slightly frozen at Hilda's words before giving the smallest of nods.
Eris puffed her cheeks and muttered a reluctant "Mm."
"So… Mother, did you and Father end a dance with a kiss on the hand?"
The room went still for a moment, and everyone's eyes turned toward Hilda.
Hilda tilted her head, thought for a moment, and smiled a little helplessly.
"A ball? No. At your father's fifteenth birthday, the elders suggested I invite him, but there were so many girls ahead of me that my turn never came."
Eris's mouth opened slightly.
"Then how—"
Hilda stroked her head, her eyes soft.
"But, dear, he didn't offer a kiss on the hand to any of them, either."
Eris blinked. "So you never danced with Father?"
"Oh, we did. Just not at a banquet."
"Oh~"
Eris nodded like she understood.
"That's good then!"
Silence fell.
Neither mother nor daughter spoke again.
Off to the side, Rudy stared wide-eyed at the two.
Good? Good for what? Shouldn't you at least ask for details? Now I'm curious…
He was about to probe when—
Hilda's gaze subtly slid to Allen. By rights, as their teacher, she should have been moving them into the next bit of etiquette.
And the conversation just now had seemed normal enough… but something small, like a flicker of fire, had been burning quietly in her mind all along, keeping her from focusing fully on the lesson.
Allen's earlier guidance to Eris—using swordsmanship as an analogy—had sparked something. That instant of intuition finally drove her to voice the question that had been circling in her heart since then.
Her tone lacked its earlier composure, carrying a faint urgency.
"Allen, that was a beautiful use of swordsmanship as an analogy. Fitting for a teacher."
"You seem quite familiar with the kind of ballroom dancing at noble banquets… I recall you were…"
She paused, turning her head toward him.
Their gray-black eyes met.
"An adventurer?"
Sylphy, Ghislane, and Rudy all turned toward Allen.
He blinked at first, then smiled.
"Yes, madam. In my adventuring days, I had a party member from the main Water God Style dojo—a fallen noble. In the tension between life and death in the labyrinth, he often told stories about noble society. That included this dance."
Halfway through, Allen stopped, lowering his gaze to his boots, lids dropping as if in thought.
Rudy and Sylphy exchanged looks—surprise plain on their faces. It wasn't what they'd expected, but in some ways it fit.
Allen's story had obvious gaps. If the questioning continued, the mood in the room could change completely.
They didn't know about the Teleport Incident. They didn't know Allen's soul came from another world, or about his lack of connection to the Boreas family on a blood-deep level.
Even so, they had noticed his occasional air of "resistance" toward the Boreas name.
Whatever Philip or Sauros were—
At least the lady of the house was a good person, wasn't she?
They weren't trying to force Allen to choose anything.
But—
A change in the situation was better than stagnant water.
If things shifted, they could adjust their plans and find the best way to help him.
That was the idea behind their approach.
Now was a perfect—
"Ah, I see… yes, that makes sense."
—opportunity.
…?
Sylphy and Rudy stared at Hilda in shock.
She was accepting Allen's flimsy explanation? Why wasn't she pressing the gaps in his story?
But in their stunned silence—
Hilda's dark-gray eyes had lost their earlier calm. She looked down at the blackened marks on her shoes from Eris's steps.
Her expression mirrored Allen's.
In fact… their manner was almost the same.
When there is an "expectation" in your heart—one you dare not even think about, because it seems impossible—
You remain calm.
Because for eleven years, the tree symbolizing that hope has never borne fruit.
You go numb.
But when that "expectation" suddenly takes on the shape of a real possibility, dropping on you without warning—
What happens?
Ecstasy?
An urgent need to confirm it?
No.
In such a moment, a person becomes afraid—
Afraid of chasing it, only to have it proven an illusion once more.
So Hilda instinctively stepped back, retreating to her comfort zone.
She accepted Allen's story.
Because as long as she didn't take that step forward, the possibility would remain.
She could wait.
Just a little longer.
Just… let herself hope a while more.
(End of Chapter)
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