Translator: Nox

23 - Pieces of the Broken Glass Slipper

Shattered Glass Slipper Shards Episode 23

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But that was all. Even though he was laughing cheerfully, the wariness of ‘What is this person trying to do to me?’ never disappeared.

One of the many lessons my past experiences have taught me is that there are no ‘fateful encounters.’ This was especially true if the other person was so charming they could bewitch others.

In high society, ‘destiny’ was a well-orchestrated plan, and falling in love at first sight meant finding a puppet worth exploiting.

Therefore, although I couldn't help but take his hand due to the attention of those around us, I did not believe that the goodwill shown by Beatrice Theodore was all there was to him.

However, he revealed nothing until we reached the building where the Lady's Room was located. He maintained a consistent demeanor and politeness, as if he had met me by chance and was escorting me out of gentlemanly duty.

Afterward, as he kissed the back of my hand to bid farewell, his eyes, which folded into crescents like a half-moon, were so charming that I couldn't tear my gaze away. It was no wonder that sighs of admiration erupted from the ladies standing nearby.

Perhaps that was why? I let my guard down for a moment. I was under the complacent assumption that I would soon part ways with him and be able to rest in the Lady's Room.

That is why I made the foolish mistake of not catching the words he murmured as if whispering. Foolishly, indeed!

“Ah, speaking of which, the furniture by the artisan Benjamin Choual is indeed beautiful. It has opened my eyes. I commend the young lady’s remarkable taste. Please rest well.”

Having finished speaking, he turned with an elegant movement and vanished as if spirited away. I was so disoriented by his sudden, unexpected words that I couldn't even think of stopping him.

Benjamin Choual? Opened my eyes? Benjamin Choual?! Benjamin Choual of the Red Bird Workshop? That man, who was still practically unknown?

A furniture artisan who would never have seen the light of day without Madame de Chartres? Wait a moment, what else did he say? ‘Thanks to you’?

After pondering his words for a moment, I forgot that I was near the exhibition hall, at the Lady's Room, where countless noble ladies were resting, and ran off without a second thought. In the direction Beatrice Theodore had disappeared.

The only place I had mentioned Benjamin Choual was in a letter to Madame de Chartres. Other than that, I had never once spoken of Benjamin Choual.

……Is it speculation? No. Beatrice did say he enjoyed sponsoring others, so one could assume he discovered him by chance, but he clearly said ‘thanks to you.’ Therefore, that means,

“You read the letter sent to Chartres? But how?”

I gazed at the street, now devoid of even a trace of him, with a bewildered expression. At the same time, I trembled with a fear that washed over my body and bit my lip.

The very fact that he said such a thing indicated some kind of ‘intention,’ but I couldn't even begin to guess his true motive. Instead, my head spun from the uncertain speculation.

Theodore Beatrice, how did you read that letter? And why are you telling me this? What are you thinking? What are you planning!

Suddenly, I remembered a past conversation we had.

‘Are you confessing that you are a dangerous person?’

‘If so, would you shake off this hand that you hold?’

‘No. I would pull you closer. I am not afraid of danger. I only shake off things that are not beneficial to me.’

An unexpected future, one I had never experienced before, reached out its dark hand to grasp me. No, it opened its vast maw to swallow me whole. It was a terror so profound it made my mind reel.

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“……Sissae. Sissae!!”

A low voice, tinged with annoyance, woke me. My thoughts vanished, and the surrounding scenery began to come into focus.

It gradually became clearer, like light reaching into darkness. In a fleeting moment, as I barely regained my senses, I found Madame de Lavalier looking at me with a stern expression and swallowed hard.

Oh, heavens! How could I be so rude.

I must have lost my mind completely. To be lost in thought during her tea time. Only a madwoman would commit such a foolish act.

My back, aching with tension, was already drenched in cold sweat.

“You’ve been strange all day. Wandering around absentmindedly. Are you unwell? But this pathetic state is simply unbearable to look at. While a pitiable appearance due to pain can be one of the virtues of beauty a lady should possess, being so unsightly and out of your senses will only become fodder for gossipmongers.”

“I will engrave your valuable words in my heart and not forget them.”

My excessively polite words finally calmed Madame de Lavalier’s expression. However, her displeasure was still evident, the frown lines on her brow showing no sign of easing.

Since the encounter at the exhibition hall, I had led a very busy life. Or rather, I had strived to. I kept myself constantly occupied, trying not to think. Otherwise, I felt I would be consumed by an unknown fear and lose my sanity.

But to my chagrin, the young master Beatrice’s final words were firmly lodged in my mind, refusing to leave.

Whenever I found a moment of respite, they would resurface and echo like a refrain. They became a solid leash, tightening around my neck. So much so that I even missed my foolish past self.

Though I was perhaps dull-witted then, I was not a coward. I did not torment myself by imagining the miserable future that might unfold, whether the sun would rise or it would rain tomorrow.

I was recklessly brave and inexplicably spirited. I was certainly not like a noble lady, but I did not lose myself in fear of something that might or might not happen.

So how could I not blame myself? This foolish state is not the Sissae I dream of being. Nor am I the ‘beast worthy of education’ that Madame de Lavalier expects.

“I suppose we must stop here for today.”

Finally, Lavalliere closed the book with a low, displeased cluck of her tongue. Her reprimand towards me was evident in that small gesture.

I sighed and lowered my head. We were currently sitting in the lush green garden, taking a break disguised as reading.

This was at Madame’s suggestion; spreading out a mat under a large tree and reading together was one of the simple pleasures noble ladies enjoyed.

Shadows were cast short beneath the dense branches, and the small, beautiful flowers planted around the perimeter emitted a rich fragrance whenever they swayed in the wind. Within this setting sat the women reading.

Older women would use this time to boast of their experience and learning, while the girls listened attentively, indirectly experiencing the world they would soon encounter.

Was this not precisely to Madame de Lavalier’s taste?

The reason I was with Lavalliere today was to enjoy such a small amusement.

Madame de Lavalier loved books dearly. She especially adored the smooth resonance of words that flowed from a woman’s throat—the sound heard when reading aloud.

There was likely no one who loved books as much as she did. Rumors circulated that Madame de Lavalier’s collection rivaled that of the royal library.

This was why she generously supported young artists and maintained a benevolent attitude towards writers.

“There is nothing on earth more beautiful than the sound of women’s voices when they read aloud, more so than song.”

No woman was as sensitive to voice and pronunciation as Madame de Lavalier. Reading was also a fundamental virtue a lady should possess.

How smoothly the pronunciation rolled when reading a sentence, whether the inflection was appropriate, the balance of speed and pitch was excellent, and so on.

When encountering a woman reading, she determined her level of refinement based on these evaluation criteria.

Therefore, it was only natural that I strove to erase the remnants of my back-alley days that still clung to me.

One of these was pronunciation and intonation; she often took me to the Courtyard of Patronage and made me read thick books. Most of the books you chose were poetry collections written by foreign authors.

They often contained difficult characters or ancient words that were somewhat challenging to pronounce, frequently leaving me flustered.

In truth, my pronunciation and intonation were quite good. I would likely not fall short even when compared to Roena. However, Madame’s standards for me were exceptionally high, and I never managed to satisfy her. Not even once.

This was due to her astonishingly strict criteria. I believed it was because I had grown up in the back alleys. This ‘prejudice’ was what drove her to push me.

Perhaps that was why? Whenever I mispronounced something or raised my voice even slightly, she would scold me mercilessly in a stern voice. It was so sharp it provoked deep resentment, shattering my patience—which was already cracked and on the verge of crumbling—time and again.

Thanks to that, I was able to gradually erase the vestiges of the little girl who had run barefoot in the dirty back alleys, something I hadn't even realized myself. Lavalliere was not a good friend, but she was an excellent educator.

As Lavalliere and I rose from our seats, the maids standing nearby tidied the pleats of their skirts. Some folded the mats laid on the ground and picked up the books.

Lavalliere, who had been standing silently receiving their service, turned her gaze towards the maid tidying my skirt. More precisely, her eyes were drawn to the bizarre sight of most of her skin being covered by unbleached cloth.

“A lady must always present a beautiful appearance. The maids attending her must also be neat and tidy for that very reason.”

“I slipped on the stairs and injured myself. It’s not for the reason you’re worried about, so please don’t be displeased. Isn’t that right, Seril?”

At my words, Seril, the maid who had finished tidying my skirt and was standing behind me, looked up and replied in a small voice.

“Yes.”

Her eyes, filled with fear, trembled behind her flushed eyelids, and her lips, red and scabbed, quivered slightly with a faint spasm. It was another form of ‘resignation.’

I smiled with satisfaction at Seril’s docile demeanor, like a horse reined in. Then, quickly addressing Lavalliere, who was looking back and forth between me and Seril as if trying to gauge something, I said,

“Are there no other lessons?”

Lavalliere clucked her tongue low and turned away. A person with your keen observation skills would have realized my words were a lie, but the matter of the maid was not something you could interfere with, so you had no choice but to overlook it, however displeased you were.

“Let us go inside for tea. I heard good tea has arrived. I must taste it to see what kind it is.”

“Yes.”

Swallowing back a laugh that threatened to escape, I followed her. Somehow, for this moment at least, I felt I could forget about young master Beatrice.