Ch#262
Fragment of the Broken Glass Slipper Side Story 1 Episode 7
The blue dress, elegantly revealing both shoulders and her ample cleavage, shimmered brilliantly as if studded with stars. Her upswept hair, which beautifully exposed her long neck, and her perfectly coordinated makeup were flawless in every detail, drawing gasps of admiration.
While the other debutantes of the day displayed their youthful inexperience, she naturally showcased her own charm with effortless poise. That alone captured everyone's attention.
"She's openly declaring it now."
"They say he filled her room with flowers this morning. That says it all. And look at that dress. How can it be so elegant yet beautiful?"
"It's Madame Dobigne's ambitious masterpiece. Anyway, it's impressive. Her chaperone is Duchess Debenzel, and her escort is Sir Ailes."
"Where's her husband while she's putting on this display?"
"Shh. Be quiet. Don't you know she's the only one trusted by both Duchesses? Save your chatter and go say a few flattering words."
A crowd quickly gathered around Cisse. Even when she smiled softly and sought permission to speak, most were eager to exchange even a single word with her.
Some pushed their daughters forward to make an impression on her. Leaving a good mark might lead to an introduction to Duchess Debenzel or Duchess Rosan, so they were desperate.
Others hoped to catch Sir Ailes's eye as well. Having a lover in society was an utterly commonplace affair, not something deserving condemnation.
In fact, quite a few women thought they could abandon everything for just one night with this young, handsome man. So they pretended to chat with Cisse while brushing against Michael Aires. It was fortunate that the latest fashion featured dresses with deep necklines.
Unfortunately, Michael Aires's guard was not just solid but icy cold. His gaze was fixed solely on Cisse de Bischwaltz, and he deftly blocked the men approaching her, creating a world just for the two of them.
Was an escort supposed to be this sweet and evocative of secret fantasies?
People let out low exclamations of admiration as they watched Sir Ailes guide Cisse with an ecstatic smile that seemed to drip honey, twisting their bodies in delight.
The sight of a man utterly cold to everyone else melting like cream for one woman fueled their wicked imaginings.
It seemed only natural that someone would call out Sir Ailes's name at the top of their lungs.
This was a rare sight even for Cisse, who had seen all manner of indecencies while frequenting society. She frowned at the woman calling Sir Ailes's name with flushed cheeks and ragged breaths.
"Sir Ailes, isn't that lady calling you? But why is she crying while doing it? No, is she smiling? Oh my, now she's collapsed to the floor, gnawing on her handkerchief."
"Cisse, don't mind her. It's nothing."
"But..."
As Cisse looked puzzled, Duchess Rosan approached and cut in. She glanced at Sir Ailes as if she understood perfectly, but her expression darkened at the sight of Duchess Debenzel as Cisse's chaperone.
"It's something you're used to at balls where Mel attends. So don't worry. Anyway, you've finally debuted. Congratulations, Cisse. There won't be a happier day than today."
The Duchess's light kiss on her cheek clearly carried affection. People praised Duchess Rosan's magnanimity for maintaining her friendship unwaveringly, even as Cisse mingled with Duchess Debenzel.
"Truthfully, Cisse should have debuted at a grander ball. It's such a shame."
"Even those words are thanks enough, Luse. We should be grateful His Majesty permitted it at all."
"That's true."
Duchess Rosan was startled to hear the Emperor mentioned from Cisse's lips but soon realized it bordered on sarcasm, managing a wry smile.
Instead, she tried to shift the topic to lighter conversation. She seemed eager to talk as much as possible before Cisse returned to Duchess Debenzel.
"Mel finally did his part, didn't he?"
"Pardon?"
"He made you the woman every lady in the empire envies most."
Cisse realized Luse meant the flowers that had filled her room that morning and smiled softly.
"It was an undeserved morning."
In response to Cisse's words, Sir Ailes lifted her hand and kissed the back of it, speaking in a sweet voice.
"Not at all. I'm the one grateful for the chance. Cisse, my lady. Nothing is too good for you."
Though people knew the Knight of Ice was smitten with Lady Bischwaltz, they hadn't expected this degree of devotion, leaving most with awkward expressions.
They'd heard he would give her his liver and gall, but not that he would prostrate himself so completely, yielding all control.
"Oh my, look at that. He's checking Lady Bischwaltz's reaction because she's uncomfortable, right?"
"...My Sir Ailes couldn't possibly. Why is the cold Knight of Ice acting like that? Goodness."
"I need a drink. I can't endure this sober."
"But doesn't it make your heart flutter?"
"Pardon?"
"Look at him. He's still radiating icy chill to everyone around, but so gentle to Lady Bischwaltz. The stark contrast is breathtaking. Oh heavens! God bless that couple!"
"...Pity the lady's lips first. How much has she had to drink?"
Of course, the murmurs didn't last long. It was due to the Emperor's entrance into the hall.
People stared at the empire's great sovereign standing at the highest point with suffocating expressions.
The Emperor appeared even thinner and paler than before, making him look exceedingly irritable. His darkly sunken eyes fueled such thoughts.
A debutante in the empire required no complex procedures. One simply approached the Emperor when their name was called, greeted him, and that marked their entry into society.
However, greeting before the Emperor was tantamount to having one's etiquette judged by society's foremost noblewomen, causing many girls to crumble under the pressure.
A single flaw could haunt them forever, so most couldn't overcome the immense weight.
In truth, debutantes who failed the greeting or didn't earn approval often failed to integrate into society, wandering the fringes before vanishing without a word. Even with a plausible background for acceptance, subtle disdain was common.
In society, this was called the "greeting grave." Countless girls were buried by that one act, making the name fitting—conscience be damned for ruining lives over a mere greeting.
Instead, people snickered, "Is the Emperor the undertaker shoving them into graves?"
Society's greetings bet secretly each debutante season on the list of debutantes. Who would fall on their rear, squeak their greeting, or stand frozen like a mute? They wagered money on it.
They delighted in watching these barely adult girls tremble in fear and shame. If not their own blood, what did it matter? Nothing was more entertaining than others' misfortune. A fair price for enduring the boring procession.
Thus, despite suffocating expressions at the Emperor's appearance, they eyed the list held by the herald with gleaming eyes. It was finally starting.
The Emperor gave a brief greeting to the assembly and took his seat. His face was already filled with boredom.
Of course, it couldn't hide his beauty, but the Emperor emanating cold menace from head to toe resembled a beast in uneasy repose, silencing everyone as they awaited the next step. The hall soon fell into profound silence, where a pin drop could be heard.
Moments later, the herald stepped forward and unfurled his paper. In a calm tone, he began calling the names of the day's debutantes.
Called girls approached one by one, bowing before the empire's great sovereign. Most looked so tense it was doubtful they could breathe. One even fled in tears after fumbling her words.
"Poor thing, we won't see her again."
"Isn't that Lady Panier as her chaperone? Heavens, look at that twisted face. Ridiculous. What kind of chaperone has such poor judgment...?"
People offered harsh critiques and sneered each time. Though they refrained from outright laughter—mindful of the Emperor, unlike last year's loud mockery—they chattered loudly enough for the failed chaperones to hear.
The tension of the occasion and the Emperor's extraordinary aura led to more mistakes, heightening everyone's amusement to the peak.
Debutantes tripping on dress hems, screaming and collapsing upon eye contact with the Emperor, forgetting protocol and freezing mid-greeting—it was total chaos.
Of course, some greeted calmly amid it all, but they fell short of the noblewomen's discerning eyes. Chaperones hid their dismay behind fans each time their charges erred.
The debutante was a test of the ladies' refinement but also an evaluation of the chaperones' judgment, leaving them vulnerable to mockery too.
Thus time passed until it was finally Cisse de Bischwaltz's turn. Having frequented society with the Duchesses, she appeared not just composed but leisurely, unlike the others.
Her steps toward the Emperor, gaze handling, even fingertip direction were flawless, drawing admiration. Her elegant poise naturally elicited gasps from all.
Cisse stopped at the greeting spot and bowed calmly. Her movements flowed naturally, as if mocking those straining for flaws.
Her voice delivering praise for the Emperor was serene and soft. Pronunciation precise, pace moderate, without a hint of tremor. Even the bow's angle was textbook perfect. For the hyenas awaiting prey, it was deflating.
"Boring."
"Indeed. Not even a slip-up."
"Duchess Debenzel is smiling pleasedly."
"She's the sole winner so far."
"Marchioness Aires looks bright too. I'd smile if I were her. Who would question her birth with such refinement?"
"Madam de Lavalier must have drilled her thoroughly last year from her sickbed. Otherwise, this wouldn't be possible."
"Anyway, her coffin won't be needed for decades. She'll probably be picking victims for the greeting grave like us next year."
"So we must welcome her this time. Regrettably."
Survivors of the greeting grave received the Emperor's welcome and time for debut gifts from relatives or acquaintances.
Cisse calmly watched the Emperor draw out his "Congratulations on entering society."
She'd avoided meeting him with various excuses until now, but the Emperor before her today seemed somewhat uncomfortable.
Especially when their eyes met, he sighed inadvertently, breaking his words, making him seem to lose composure, leaving everyone slightly flustered.
'Surely not because of eye contact with me?'
As puzzled Cisse tilted her head to check his expression, someone stepped forward boldly just as the Emperor finished. It was Sir Michael Aires.
"I wish to present a debutante gift to my lady, Your Majesty. Please grant permission."
The hall erupted at his words. No one had anticipated the Knight of Ice gifting his lover publicly; mouths gaped. He's going this far? You, Sir Ailes?
The shock was so great some claimed an imposter mimicking him.
"Mel, my knight. You? Truly?"
The Emperor seemed unprepared for his friend's action, half-rising. Oddly, he appeared more angry than surprised.
His brow was deeply furrowed, lips trembling almost imperceptibly.
But before anyone could find it strange, he sat and spoke calmly, as if nothing happened.
"So you have times to show such sides. Time to discard the moniker Knight of Ice."
"My sword knows no mercy only for enemies aiming at Your Majesty, so they feel no warmth from me. Isn't that enough?"
"I seem to have misjudged you greatly. My own preparation is now useless."
The Emperor's words were profoundly meaningful. An outsider might mistake it for him preparing a gift for Cisse de Bischwaltz.
People exchanged glances in disbelief. Though she'd mingled with him as Crown Prince, they hadn't imagined such intimacy.
Of course, he was infamous then for bedding any woman in sight, but Lady Bischwaltz was rumored as his friend's woman.
"No way, right?"
"Of course. Even our merciful Emperor might prepare a gift for a friend. Let's not overthink."
"But the atmosphere is odd? And does she warrant that? Receiving the Emperor's congratulations publicly? Unprecedented in imperial history."
"Exactly. Even Duchess Debenzel, Duchess Rosan, and Sir Ailes are shocked—surely not the Emperor too? No, it can't be. She's not that remarkable."
The ladies' fans fluttered faster. They whispered lowly, exchanging glances.
Men stroked mustaches, trading sly jests. Their focus: what kind of seductress was Cisse de Bischwaltz to captivate such men?
Just two showing interest painted her a worn harlot in their minds.
But the murmurs hushed as Michael Aires replied, all tensing to watch.
"I hadn't realized Your Majesty thought so highly of me. But please send what you've prepared to Count Bischwaltz later—he'd be delighted."
The polite refusal naturally silenced the hall; they trembled, eyeing the Emperor. If his foul temper exploded, the ball would end abruptly.
Then Cisse de Bischwaltz stepped forward. Audaciously, she met the Emperor's eyes directly.
"Is the person's opinion not respected? Wise Majesty, consider my discomfort."
"What?"
"I'll gladly accept them all. Isn't that it?"
This bordered on madness. People thought her shoving her head into the beast's maw, taunting "Eat me."
No sane person would dare such words before the Emperor. Boldness had limits for praise.
She's just asking to die together.
A sigh escaped someone. Still clueless after consorting with the Emperor? Of course, answered by "Don't you see from Sir Ailes?" She must think he plays pretend before her too.
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
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