Ch#256
Fragment of the Broken Glass Slipper Side Story 1 Episode 1
Side Story 1: Debutante Ball
"Hasn't the time come to hold a debutante ball?"
It was a sudden remark. At Lady Sorin's unexpected words, everyone blinked in surprise.
The ladies gathered for a leisurely afternoon tea time at House Debenzel were barely enduring their boredom by playing tric-trac.
With the same faces attending every gathering, there was nothing left to talk about. Unless it devolved into the ridiculous spectacle of them grabbing each other's collars over a card game with money on the line, like usual, they had no choice but to simply endure.
The hostess, Duchess Debenzel herself, was silently sipping her tea in silence, so there was no need for further explanation.
Some flipped through books with bored expressions, while others swallowed yawns and stared blankly out the window.
In the midst of this, Lady Sorin's unexpected comment naturally perked up everyone's ears.
"Oh my, come to think of it, we held a debutante ball around this time last year."
One lady picked up Lady Sorin's words with a cheerful voice. Her face lit up with vitality, as if welcoming a new topic. She closed her book and scooted closer to Lady Sorin on the seat. All eyes turned their way.
"We've all been tiptoeing around His Majesty's displeased mood, so we haven't even been able to hold proper balls for a while. The season has changed once, but the capital is still winter. I've been wondering every time I go to the Imperial Palace whether I need to wear a thick winter coat. But a debutante ball! Spring is finally arriving!"
In response, Lady Sorin lifted her chin and replied in a haughty tone.
"It's something anyone could say if they just paid a little attention to their surroundings. I can't understand why no one else thought of it."
An awkward silence fell for a moment. If the lady facing her hadn't forced a smile, the atmosphere would have soured completely.
In fact, some exchanged subtle glances conveying their feelings. But Lady Sorin continued as if oblivious.
"Lady Bischwaltz is of age to make her debut this year. If you'd shown her any affectionate attention, you could have thought of it easily. Isn't this what kindhearted exchange is all about?"
Come to think of it, there had been rumors of frequent interactions between Lady Sorin and Lady Bischwaltz lately? People exchanged knowing looks, carrying on a silent conversation.
Publicly, Lady Sorin was seen as a foolish figure lacking discernment and prone to frivolous behavior, but her wealth rivaled Duchess Debenzel's, so she always had plenty of company.
Who wouldn't stick around when a little flattery loosened her purse strings like water? It was possible thanks to the immense profits from the mines in her territory.
Duchess Debenzel had included her in her circle precisely because of that wealth, leaving no room for doubt. And among those present, Lady Sorin wore the most expensive dress.
Yet here she was, bringing up Lady Bischwaltz's debutante ball and offering to foot the bill? It was tantamount to declaring she'd spend freely on Cisse de Bischwaltz.
"Oh my, that's right. Lady Bischwaltz turns eighteen this year, doesn't she? To keep track of that—Lady Sorin, you truly have a kind heart."
People praised Lady Sorin while swallowing their envy. Regardless of their rising emotions, the debutante ball she mentioned was sure to bring fresh wind to the stagnant social scene, so they couldn't help but be intrigued.
Thus, everyone set aside their books and games, gathering in a circle around Duchess Debenzel. Her snide tone aside, it was a topic that lit up their eyes.
Fresh tea and pastries arrived, and the maids attending the ladies bustled about.
Seated at the head, Duchess Debenzel seemed pleased with the topic, fanning herself leisurely with a soft smile.
Indeed, she had been mentally exhausted from her ongoing standoff with Duchess Rosan. Though victory was tilting her way, she lacked a decisive opportunity to press forward, which was troubling.
The fact that she was holding her own against Duchess Rosan, who had the Emperor's backing, was impressive in itself—but parity in high society equated to incompetence, so it was unsatisfying. It was as good as saying that was all she amounted to.
Thus, Irene de Debenzel believed she needed something to change the current situation. A plausible opportunity to signal her suitability as the next Empress. But no sharp idea had come to mind, leaving only impatience.
Then Lady Sorin mentioned the 'debutante ball,' quenching a long-standing thirst.
Good heavens, why did I overlook this?
The Duchess suppressed her trembling lips of delight and calmly offered praise.
"A debutante ball—excellent idea. You've astutely pointed out what everyone missed, Lady Sorin. I'm truly impressed by your thoughtfulness toward Lady Bischwaltz."
At the Duchess's words, Lady Sorin's face brightened. Even she, who usually annoyed everyone with her reckless demeanor, knew to bow her head before the strong.
Thus, before the Duchess, Lady Sorin cast aside her usual arrogance and behaved like a tame dog. Her beaming smile, as if she'd gained the world from the praise, was for that reason.
"That she's already of age to debut in society—it's truly moving. For Lady Bischwaltz's sake, we must hold the debutante ball. My dear friend will be overjoyed. Though her other friend might be a bit saddened."
A quick-witted lady swiftly picked up the Duchess's words. Blessed with insight into the Duchess's hidden intentions, she enjoyed the privilege of sitting close.
"Why grieve over someone incapable of grasping important matters? If I were Lady Bischwaltz, I'd be depressed by my disappointment in her—Duchess Rosan. Ah, Your Grace is too kindhearted for your own good."
Another chimed in promptly, unwilling to be outdone.
"The social scene has been so stagnant lately, everyone listless. But rumors of a debutante ball will revive the energy. I'm already excited. Of course, it requires His Majesty's approval, but if a lady soon to ascend to a noble position raises it herself, he won't refuse."
"He might even admire the timing."
"It's a wisdom Duchess Rosan could never possess. I only hope our great Emperor graciously permits the ball."
In an instant, Lady Sorin's idea morphed into one from Duchess Debenzel, but no one objected or found it strange.
The Duchess herself proposing the debutante ball was an attack on her rival, Duchess Rosan, standing at the opposite pole—so they were thrilled instead.
Thus, they began pondering how to make the debutante ball splendidly successful.
At some point, Lady Sorin, pushed out of the conversation, blinked vacantly, trying to speak up—but unless it involved buying dresses or jewels, she wouldn't draw attention. She gradually became isolated. Her presence only shone when spending money.
Time passed. Even after the mantel clock's hands made three more rounds, the ladies—now like salon intellectuals, forgetting decorum—raised their voices in fervent debate.
To cool the heated atmosphere, the tea turned to chilled wine, and light fruits to heftier breads, but no one noticed the delicate service—until Duchess Debenzel made a light jest.
"Oh, everyone, calm down. I know what you desire, but things are getting too heated. At this rate, only ashes will remain on the chairs. Then I'd be the witch with dangerous powers on everyone's lips. So, my dear friends, please help keep my abilities hidden."
Everyone burst into laughter and caught their breath. Some quenched their throats with wine.
"You all seem to have forgotten this debutante ball is for our friend, Lady Bischwaltz. Thinking of her plight, you couldn't. So, let's not lose sight of the essence."
No one was ignorant of how much was implied in 'plight,' so all suppressed silent smiles.
Though Lady Bischwaltz drew sympathy for her unwanted marriage, few could say it outright. That's why the topic was amusing—especially from her friend, Duchess Debenzel, and without the subject present.
"Thus, no political sentiments should mix in. Let's call it an effort to prove our friendship. Unforeseen outcomes are unavoidable, of course."
The Duchess emphasized as if instilling the idea, and all nodded in agreement, understanding her intent.
Only Lady Sorin blinked her large eyes dumbly, but she wasn't even worth mocking.
She'd surely rush to Lady Bischwaltz tomorrow and spill everything, so her silence was welcome.
Of course, if the talk turned to debutante dresses, she'd regain popularity.
"Now, shall we delve deeper? My family's head chef will be busy today. But his skill is impeccable, so do look forward to it."
The sun had hours before setting, but filling the stomachs of the chattering ladies early wasn't a bad idea.
Duchess Debenzel summoned a maid, issued instructions, and calmly pushed aside some thoughts that surfaced. She began pondering when to enter the palace.
With Duchess Debenzel taking the lead, the debutante ball was as good as decided.
Though the Emperor's approval was needed, unless he was a fool—and he wasn't—he'd know it was time to loosen the tight leash a bit. No better excuse existed.
Discontent with the Emperor's harsh temperament and judgments was already bubbling in salons everywhere. The level was precarious, ready to overflow at a touch. Underground, many mocked and caricatured him.
For now, the power gap silenced them, but such unfairness would resolve in time. No Emperor in imperial history retained absolute power to the end—nobles would ultimately triumph.
Thus, Duchess Debenzel was confident the Emperor would have no choice but to accept. She thrilled at how highly he'd evaluate her for bringing such a brilliant idea.
Lady Bischwaltz would also be moved by the Duchess's generosity, growing even closer.
With a benevolent smile, she beckoned Lady Sorin. As the woman approached entranced, the Duchess whispered something in her ear.
Days later, rumors spread through high society that the Emperor had permitted a debutante ball for the ladies turning eighteen this year.
It was also whispered that Irene de Debenzel had proposed it.
Naturally, gossip flew that Duchess Rosan, hearing this, flew into a rage. Everyone knew of their rivalry for the Empress position.
Gazes turned to Cisse de Bischwaltz, the debutante at the center. With ties to both, curiosity swirled over who her chaperone would be. It would reveal which friendship weighed heavier.
Potentially more thrilling than a love scandal, people swallowed dryly, watching the curious triangle.
***
An aria from the soprano echoed to the ceiling. Each time, people threw handkerchiefs and flowers, responding with fanatic cheers. Some stamped their feet, chanting the singer's name.
Most in the theater held titles, yet they behaved without regard for decorum, utterly engrossed.
Watching through opera glasses, Cisse frowned at the whistles harmonizing with the aria. The performer was newspaper-famous, and everyone gazed at the stage as if such fervor was commonplace.
Even Sir Ailes beside her maintained a calm demeanor, as if this level of commotion was expected.
Feeling like the only one uncomfortable, she subtly moistened her dry lips with her tongue.
Cisse de Bischwaltz disliked opera. Too many bad memories.
In her previous life, her first opera had awed her—the performer's body as instrument—but she'd drawn ridicule for her 'rustic, frivolous' reaction.
Going alone without an escort had spread through society overnight, making her a laughingstock for years. Sharing critiques was unimaginable.
Whenever she sought culture, they lorded her status over her, implying her ignorance with arrogance.
They treated her like something to endure in conversation. It was humiliating. Overt discrimination was degrading, too bitter to swallow in humility.
Yet she had to mingle to forge connections. Society was a jungle; isolated, she'd be devoured. Even that was a shameful scene to her.
Thus, attending opera with someone—and in the best seats—for the first time felt awkward, like ill-fitting clothes, through the first half. Famous shows were hard to ticket, amplifying it.
But as the story hit mid-point, she relaxed. The music now heralded tragedy with majestic tones. Sobs echoed here and there.
Yet what reached her ears wasn't the singer's masterful voice. It was the quiet breathing of the man beside her—its steady rise and fall more stimulating.
His fingers, cautiously entwining after watching for an opening, built tension. Another's warmth brought ecstatic shivers, yet equal pain.
Because they'd carved out this stolen moment amid busyness? His calm face belied icy fingertips—proof of nerves.
She held her breath, enduring the sweet pressure starting from her hand. Beautifully costumed performers appeared and vanished beyond the glasses, but nothing invaded her mind.
Cisse snapped to when Michael Aires spoke to her after the curtain fell.
He seemed to think her too moved to move, asking softly if she wished to meet the performer—a way to prolong the afterglow—but they should leave soon.
"If you wish, I can arrange to meet the singer. It's one way to extend the lingering emotion."
"How?"
"My house sponsors him."
Sponsoring artists was basic in society now, but backing such a star was astonishing, widening Cisse's eyes.
Her unguarded face softened, brimming with youthful innocence.
Fragment of the Broken Glass Slipper
Novel by Yeolmae
Author: Yeolmae
Publisher: Kwon Tae-wan, Woo Cheon-je
eBook Publication Date: 2017-12-22
Production: CL Production
Address: 1108-ho, 41 Digital-ro 31-gil, Guro-gu, Seoul
This book is published as an eBook by KWBOOKS under contract with the copyright holder.
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