Chapter 36
A woman smiled meanly as she held up a plate bearing a dome-shaped chocolate dessert. Lucien replied evenly.
The women burst into giggles. One of them looked at Lucien, dropped her fork, and frowned.
They had likely expected Lucien to fluster and bend over reflexively, but she merely raised a hand lightly. A maid hurried over and replaced the fork with a new one.
Laughter rippled through them once more. But their faces soured when they saw Lucien smiling faintly back at them.
No matter how they prodded her from every angle, Lucien neither panicked nor shrank back. The mood grew strangely subdued beneath her gaze, which observed them with the calm detachment of someone listening to matters concerning total strangers. Her placid eyes carried a quiet tension, as though a beast were waiting for its chance to strike.
A man who had been watching the cluster of women with keen interest called out cheerfully. It was Yuson Kepler, the eldest son of House Kepler. While not quite on Kirhin’s level, he was a young man of considerable renown in high society.
Standing nearby, Kirhin narrowed his eyes and glared at his friend, having seen right through the man’s intention to tease him.
A clear voice cut through the air. The gazes of Kirhin and Yuson turned toward the silver-haired girl.
Lucien walked leisurely out from among the women who had surrounded her. As though heedless of the stares raining down on her, she wore a gentle smile as she looked toward Kirhin.
Kirhin’s jaw went slack. Yuson let out a low whistle as he watched Lucien’s sleeve drape gracefully while she raised her glass.
A dreamy, reflective expression flitted across her composed face. Lucien parted her lips.
“A tree weeps not in sorrowful winter, knowing the meaning of pain when fresh buds burst forth. Pain shall usher in spring alongside the dawn; it merely dreams, awaiting with hope that day of radiant bloom.”
The voice reciting the poem was clear and beautiful, like the singing of a bird. A leisurely composure drifted over Lucien’s face as she slowly swept her gaze over the hushed audience, leaving them with the impression that she was the true master of this gathering.
Kirhin, who had been standing with a dazed expression as if spellbound, flinched and turned his head at a resounding burst of applause. The one clapping vigorously with both hands, admiration written plain across his face, was none other than Administrator Penu.
The one adding his voice was Viscount Kepler, who wore a handsome brown beard. Those who recognized the verse joined in clapping, and before long, the banquet hall was awash with applause.
Kirhin stared at Lucien as she offered a calm, modest bow. Yuson rolled his eyes playfully, tilted his head, and whispered to his friend.
Muttering with a bewildered look, Kirhin froze.
No. He had definitely heard it recently. That was it.
‘Why, of course it’s already decided. The administrator coming to our succession ceremony is a man named Penu. A distant relative of House Condor. What kind of person is he? An utterly dull, tedious old man, you might say. A fellow whose only joy in life is reading books by the hearth.’
‘Could you find out who his favorite author is? Or poet?’
‘Well, he attends poetry readings often enough, so I could look into it. But why do you ask?’
The poetry volume he had handed a smiling Lucien a few days later had indeed been Synthesi’s. Penu was extraordinarily fond of classical poetry, and it was said he had almost all of Synthesi’s works memorized.
“Ha.”
Letting out an involuntary breath, Kirhin stared at Lucien, who stood aloof among the crowd like a solitary blossom.
She had memorized Synthesi’s poetry specifically to use on this occasion. Which meant that from the very beginning, she had targeted the interest and approval of Penu, the highest-ranking person here.
Calling this merely shrewd hardly did it justice. Feeling a sudden pang of tension for some reason, Kirhin swallowed hard. Just then, he saw Penu approaching Lucien with a broad smile spread across his face.
Lucien looked toward Kirhin as she gave her humble answer. Catching the gaze that seemed to seek his permission, Kirhin gave a reflexive nod.
He hadn’t anticipated this in the slightest, but Penu was an excellent choice. Lucien was unmarried and had no male acquaintances yet; had she shared the first dance with some questionable bachelor, it would have only given gossips something to prattle about.
The music swelled, and Lucien and Penu began to dance. Those watching her with critical eyes were soon left marveling in astonishment.
The elegant sway of her hem following her fluid, flowing movements seemed like a painting brought to life. Kirhin felt the men’s gazes on Lucien deepen.
She had undeniably drawn their eyes—not merely as an object of curiosity, but as a respectable young lady of a noble house, endowed with dignity and refinement.
It was a cause for celebration. Just as she had said, Kirhin had taken her in as his sister because he judged her beauty to be quite useful. Of course, factored into that calculation was also the notion that keeping a girl in whom Lars showed an interest close by would prove advantageous in one way or another.
Yet for some reason, he couldn’t bring himself to laugh lightly. He felt as though things he couldn’t even begin to imagine were tucked away inside that small head of hers.
Yuson laughed as he smoothed down his clothes. When an unmarried young lady made her debut in high society, standard etiquette dictated asking her guardian’s permission before dancing with her. Since Lucien’s guardian was currently Kirhin, everyone was merely watching him.
Kirhin barely managed a retort and cleared his throat with a dry cough. He had no idea why he was feeling so nervous.
Guests gathered one by one to the lively music and danced. The night deepened over the Beekman estate. Only when the banquet’s festive atmosphere finally subsided was I able to slip away from the floor. Though I had feigned detachment, both my mind and my body had reached their limits long ago. My legs trembled violently from dancing for so long under such tension.
Maya thrust forward a basket with a flushed face. Inside, layers of gloves embroidered with various house crests were piled high.
Leaving a single glove was a custom among noble sons to request a formal courtship meeting with an unmarried woman. Some even said the number of gloves a lady received on the day of her society debut stood as a measure of her standing.
As I stumbled, Maya hurriedly caught and supported me. Biting my lower lip, I pulled off one of the shoes I had been wearing. Maya looked down at the shoe, her eyes widening in shock.
