I stood in front of the mirror, adjusting the cuffs of my light dark blue dress coat—tailored to fit just right, with a high upright collar and only the barest hint of embroidery along the lapels. Just enough to show taste.
Not enough to scream look at me. (Unlike those peacocks who seemed to think more gold thread = more important.)
And I don't even like decorations. Honestly, this was the only one I could find with the least amount of flair.
The white shirt beneath was crisp, a faint ripple in the fabric from when I'd buttoned it too fast. The black trousers were perfectly fitted—clean and trim, without strangling my legs. Even the shoes gleamed quietly, like they'd been polished by someone who wasn't panicking over social expectations.
Not bad.
I tilted my head, examining my reflection. The sharp lines. The calm eyes. The slight lift of the collar around my neck.
"I really do look like a cool, handsome young man, huh."
Not that it mattered.
I hadn't dressed up for vanity's sake—I wasn't some bratty noble preening for attention. But I would be standing beside Lady Emilia tonight, and the last thing I needed was to embarrass her by looking like I'd rolled out of a barrel behind the alchemy lab. I said I'd be her partner. I should at least look the part.
Responsibility. That's all this was.
A quick spritz of citrus-and-wood perfume (one pump, max—I wasn't trying to fumigate the ballroom), and I was out the door.
Time to meet my so-called "partners."
─── ⋆⋅✦⋅⋆ ───
Funny, I mused as I stepped outside, how much effort goes into appearances when what really matters is what's underneath.
Not that I could talk. I'd just spent twenty minutes making sure my collar didn't look like it had been ironed with a rock.
We'd agreed to meet beside the girls' dormitory—Emilia, Aeron, Livia, and me. Zephyr and Luna had said they'd arrive later. Knowing them, they probably preferred slipping in when the crowd was already inside. Less attention that way.
The corridor outside the dorms was quiet—most students had already headed to the ball or were still tangled in hair accessories and crisis-level wardrobe debates.
Come to think of it, Aeron had told me to call him before leaving.
I paused for a moment, half-reaching for the communication slip he'd handed me. Then shrugged.
He won't be late.
...Right?
I mean, Aeron's not a noble girl who needs three hours to lace a corset.
Probably.
"...Hah."
The mental image of Aeron meticulously fussing with hair oil was too much. I chuckled and gave up on the idea of calling him.
The path to the dorms was lit with floating lanterns, their soft golden glow swaying with the breeze. Shadows danced across the cobblestones, and my boots clicked lightly against the stone—until I stopped.
Echo of Life pulsed softly.
Someone was behind me. Close. Fast. Intent... not friendly.
An "accidental" bump, huh?
I smiled faintly and shifted just so—
Swish.
"Argh—!"
The air was filled with the sound of flailing limbs and expensive fabric rustling like sails in a storm.
I turned just in time to see a figure stumble forward—arms windmilling, legs tangled—wearing enough embroidery to be declared a national artifact.
With a sigh, I reached out and caught him by the collar before he could faceplant into the walkway.
"Careful," I said evenly, helping him stand upright.
And there he was.
Leroy. The rich young master who'd tried (and failed) to invite Emilia to the ball.
The signature blonde hair slicked back with the kind of stubborn pride only born nobles carry, jaw set with indignation. Handsome enough at a glance—until he got angry, which turned him from second son of some house into third-rate theater villain trying too hard to land the role of "Charming Rogue."
"You—!" he sputtered, eyes twitching.
I brushed an imaginary speck off his shoulder. "You should watch where you're going."
His mouth opened. Closed. Then opened again like he was buffering mid-insult.
Finally, he managed to bark, "Transfer student! I'll pay you back for this later!"
Ah, the classic villain line.
"Oh, alright," I said with an easy smile. "But I probably won't fall. I'm not dancing tonight, anyway."
His jaw dropped a little more.
I gave him a polite nod. "Have a nice evening."
And walked off.
Echo of Life told me he hadn't moved. Still standing there, stunned into immobility.
Was he too shocked to walk?
A soft laugh tugged at my lips.
So this is what villains feel when they run into pure-hearted protagonists. I get it now.
It's kind of fun, actually.
However...
I squinted slightly as I walked, thoughts trailing behind me like the hem of someone else's cape.
Given his attitude, he'll probably try to cause trouble later.
That kind of guy doesn't let things go. Too much pride in too little space.
Well, he won't target me directly. I showed him "kindness," after all. That should confuse him long enough.
Besides, he probably still thinks Emilia's going with Aeron. Unless he somehow discovered the truth... but that's unlikely. Unless he hired a spy. Or used bribery. Or trailed her personally.
…Okay, it's not that unlikely.
Still, if I use my abilities properly, I can avoid all unnecessary clichés and cringes.
That was the plan.
And I could afford to relax a little, since Virion had reassured me—vaguely, condescendingly, and with his usual brand of dragonic menace—that he'd be watching over the academy during the ball.
"Don't overthink it, boy," he'd said.
Easy for him to say. He doesn't know what I know.
The structure of these worlds. The rules of drama. The way disaster always strikes after the warm, fuzzy scene. Right when the dance reaches its emotional high.
If he'd read even a single story in his immortal lifetime, he wouldn't be so chill about this.
Then again… he didn't question how I knew he was powerful, either.
Maybe he doesn't care.
Or maybe he already showed me enough—what with that portal trick and the bathwater that tried to kill me.
Still…
Still… better safe than sorry. Especially when background characters like me are the first to go.
If you look at it, it's always the side characters and extras who die.
While the main cast gets away with scars and angst. Everyone else gets body bags.
...
Hah.
I shook my head sharply, clearing the dark thoughts.
Now wasn't the time for existential dread.
Besides, I'd reached the promised spot—just beside the girls' dormitory. The tall stone pillars and ivy-covered arches framing the walkway like a grand entrance.
The timing was... inconvenient.
Girls—from fourteen to sixteen—were spilling out in pairs, trios, and flocks. Laughter, chatter, fluttering dresses in all shades of pastel and jewel tones.
Their hair was braided, curled, ornamented with beads or flowers. Faces were flushed—some from makeup, some from excitement. A few spotted me and—
Ah.
There it was.
Eyes.
Too many eyes.
The moment they saw me, several girls stopped mid-step. Whispers spread faster than wildfire in dry grass.
"He's so cool-looking…"
"Who is he…?"
"Wait, isn't he the transfer student…?"
"I heard he was going with Lady Emilia—no way!"
"Woah, he looks so hot!"
Some turned bright pink. Others just stared, hands covering smiles. One bold first-year practically gasped, earning a sharp elbow from her friend.
I instinctively checked my surroundings using Echo of Life.
...No one else nearby.
Just me.
No Aeron.
No Zephyr.
No generic handsome love interest to soak up the background admiration.
...
Wait...
So...
Am I… the only guy here?