"Rick Rey, have I asked an embarrassing question?"
"Ah, I was just a little surprised."
After a brief pause, Rick's eyes softened, forming his usual fox-like smile.
"It's just been so long since I've heard such an unusual question—asking if A and B being friends, and B and C being friends, means A and C must also be friends…"
"Mr. Rick!"
The servant, who had been silently listening, finally interrupted. Rick bowed his head.
"I must have made an inappropriate joke due to my ignorance. I apologize. Anyway, I am not close with Lady Redfield."
"…I see."
"The last time I saw her was when she went to the opera with Maria. I was merely in the same space."
"Does she like opera?"
"It's far too refined a hobby for someone like me. I was there to watch over Maria, nothing more."
"I understand."
Rick and the servant both cautiously observed Tristan as his tone stiffened. Tristan almost felt like mocking Rick for his sudden meekness, but his thoughts were interrupted by the sight of the training hall and Baron Meyer at the end of the hallway.
"This is the training hall of House Meyer. The first thing I'll show you is…"
There was work to be done. Tristan nodded, occasionally asked questions, and crammed everything he saw into his memory.
Yet, even amidst his duties, one particular scene from earlier kept replaying in his mind—the expression Rick Rey had worn when looking at the two women in the Meyer tea room.
When Rick looked at Maria, his face was utterly relaxed, almost as if he were gazing at a kind older sister or admiring an angel.
But every time he looked at Dorys, his expression constantly shifted. He would smile with confident ease, only to suddenly expose raw, unguarded emotions. Sometimes he furrowed his brows in exaggerated irritation, and other times he licked his lips nervously, as though his mouth had gone dry.
At first, Tristan found it simply irritating.
'Does Dory make him uncomfortable? How rude.'
But an inexplicable sense of unease began to creep over him—
"Behold! The mirrored wall installed by my grandfather. It allows soldiers to compare their movements to one another's…"
The moment Tristan caught sight of his own reflection in the mirror, he realized what that unease truly was.
It wasn't just unease—it was recognition.
'I know that expression.'
That restless look, unable to settle down, shifting between moments of blank amazement and sudden bursts of happiness, followed by irritation at himself for feeling that way.
It was the exact expression Tristan wore whenever he looked at Dorys.
'No way… Rick Rey, are you…?'
Deep in his chest, a tiny emotion that had started as no more than the size of a fingernail was growing, feeding on his growing unease.
The ladies participating in the performance welcomed Dorys Redfield's revised script, laughing heartily, though their amusement was tinged with worry.
"Is it really okay to proceed like this?"
"It might not be. The script outright mocks certain things, after all."
"Dorys…"
"Her Highness the Crown Princess will back us up. But if anyone feels uneasy, you're free to stick with the original script. Just remember, if there are any issues with the revised version, you can simply say, 'It's Dorys Redfield's responsibility.'"
"Excuse me?"
"I'm the one who got permission to revise it, and I'm the one who actually made the changes. If anything happens, just blame me. I'll likely face the least fallout anyway."
"What kind of…"
"Oh! If you're too nervous to say it outright, you could always send an anonymous letter instead. Just write, 'Miss Dorys Redfield is responsible.'"
Anonymous complaints were nothing new to Dorys.
During her time working at the library, she had received all sorts of bizarre grievances! She could handle it.
Of course, the other ladies' expressions showed they did not feel the same way. One of them asked, "Why are you going this far? Aren't you just another young lady drafted into this like the rest of us…?"
"I don't have a great reason. If I had to say, it's just because I feel like I can."
Besides, when Tristan receives his territory and gains independence, I'll be leaving the capital with him anyway. Until then, I can at least play the scapegoat.
"Well then, regardless of your choice, I'd love to hear your beautiful voices with the new lyrics. Could we practice together?"
The ladies nodded.
They had already rehearsed the song diligently. Only the lyrics, nuances, and a few lines had changed. Even though this was their first time practicing with the revised script, the session progressed almost like a full rehearsal.
Once we finished singing all the assigned songs, people exchanged satisfied glances. They were pleased with the outcome.
The problem was that what pleased us might not sit well with others.
While still savoring the atmosphere, someone knocked on the door to the music room. It was obvious who would open the door without waiting for a response.
Pearl Snow. The true star who would headline the finale of the charity concert.
At least she knocked this time—she must have received some etiquette training.
"Hello, everyone. The performance is just around the corner—how's practice coming along?"
From the confident tilt of her chin, I could almost hear the unspoken "As if."
Still, she was a guest, so I stepped forward to greet her.
"Hello, Miss Snow. It's been a while. Oh, were you hoping to join us for our final practice?"
I asked with as much sweetness as Maria would have. Pearl's face twitched with annoyance, but she managed to suppress her irritation.
"Of course not. I came to ask if there are any songs you've been practicing repeatedly but still find difficult to complete."
"Oh my, are you offering to help us practice?"
"I'm suggesting that if there's a song that feels like it's bound to fail, don't push yourselves and just hand it over to me. It's better for me to struggle a little than for the concert to have a glaring hole, don't you think?"
So you came to rub salt in the wound, huh?
Of course, I didn't let any anger show as I shook my head.
"We're fine, thank you. As you know, this is a charity event, not a ticketed performance. A small mistake here and there would just be a funny little incident among friends."
"…"
"I'm not sure how someone as accomplished as Miss Snow ended up participating in this event, but if you feel nervous at all, please let us know. We'll do our best to share the stage with you, despite our limited skills."
Why did someone so talented end up here?
Surely, it wasn't because she was specially invited for her abilities.
It took her a moment to catch the bite behind my words.
"Nervous? Not at all! I'm perfectly fine!"
Her booming voice briefly filled the music room. Ugh, so loud.
"Anyway, you're saying you're handling all three songs?"
"Of course."
"Even if it's a charity performance, I hope you give it your best. It'd be a shame to compare your efforts to mine."
"Yes, thank you."
"Well then, I'll be off!"
She really did come just to pick a fight. As I held the door open for her, I naturally followed her out—not to see her off, but to ask one last question.
"Miss Snow. Was it truly your choice to participate in this performance?"
"What are you talking about?"
"Exactly what I said."
"…It was a chance offered by His Highness. I couldn't exactly refuse."
I see. And you couldn't say no, could you?
After all, the Second Prince is both her lover and patron.
I gave her a bittersweet smile.
"And you'll face another choice soon."
"A choice?"
"Think about it. Slowly. See you on the day of the performance."
Pearl seemed ready to ask what I meant but glanced at the time and turned away. She was probably off to meet the Second Prince.
I returned to the music room.
In just the few minutes I'd been gone, it seemed like the group had reached a consensus. The youngest of the ladies, her eyes sparkling, turned to me and said, "We've all made up our minds."
"Ah, about whether to perform the revised version?"
"Yes. I really want to see the look on Pearl Snow's face when she hears this."
Judging by the expressions of everyone else, it was clear they all felt the same. Their minds were made up.
In the days leading up to the concert, we practiced desperately, even after our reserved time in the music room ended. Balancing intense rehearsals with dieting made me feel like I might collapse, but youth carried me through.
I didn't want these people to face humiliation.
More than anything, I wanted our efforts to be rewarded.
Finally, the day of the charity concert arrived.
Standing in front of a mirror, I debated between two dresses.
One was a dress my sister had called "decent enough".
The other was a water-colored dress Tristan had given me as a gift.