The conductor, sensing the shift in the air, subtly raised his baton.
A single, gentle cue.
The symphony resumed.
As though the declaration of a duel had never echoed through the hall, the ballroom slowly came back to life. Conversations restarted in cautious murmurs, glasses clinked once more, and laughter—measured, refined—returned to its proper volume.
The moment that Alice had frozen was carefully thawed.
Of course, the disdain aimed at the North and the tension that followed it did not simply vanish.
Naturally.
This was high society. Nothing ever truly disappeared.
Instead, it was smoothed over—pressed flat beneath layers of etiquette and shared understanding.
It had been a performance.
Alice’s duel declaration was preserved in form, her honor left untouched, while the overheated atmosphere caused by a "lady’s provocation" was quietly cooled. A flawless compromise.
Moreover, the one standing in her place was a servant whose name had already spread beyond the North—a prodigy whispered about even in distant regions.
To respond recklessly now, only to be defeated, would be an irredeemable stain.
’Anyone who takes the bait would only be humiliating themselves.’
Today’s gathering was a social event reserved exclusively for high nobility. A battlefield without blades, where reputations were worth more than blood.
Any fool who failed to grasp that unspoken rule would have been exploited, isolated, and driven out long before reaching this stage.
In the end—
The Lady of the North had perfectly seized control of the social scene.
At least, that was how it appeared.
Alice herself, however, remained blissfully unaware of the intricate currents flowing beneath the polished surface.
In other words, it was only because I had been competent enough to package the situation as a "preemptive strike intended by the lady" that the outcome looked so clean.
The truth was far less elegant.
It had been an uproar born from irritation. Nothing more.
’Well... if someone does challenge me later, smashing it down will be enough.’
I let out a small, inward sigh.
Despite everything, Alice was beautiful—and kind. She cherished her subordinates, perhaps too much. Even her indignant glare, brimming with righteous anger, had been... oddly adorable.
That, however, was precisely the problem.
As the future crown princess—and someone who would soon be attending the academy—she could not afford to react so impulsively at every slight.
Today had been within my capacity to manage.
Tomorrow?
There were no guarantees.
’The Duke only asked me to assist,’ I reflected. ’But the social world isn’t something you survive with strength alone.’
I glanced in Alice’s direction.
She stood tall once more, posture composed, expression cool—playing her role flawlessly now that the crisis had passed. The surrounding nobles treated her with renewed caution, careful not to provoke her again.
And yet...
’To bring in someone like me—a mere servant—as a private tutor...’
The thought lingered.
Perhaps the Duke understood it better than anyone.
That what Alice lacked wasn’t power.
It was restraint.
And until she learned that—
I would remain her shield.
Whether she realized it or not.
Alice noticed my gaze.
Her eyes flicked toward me—sharp, assessing—then she looked away as if nothing had happened. But I knew that look well by now.
She was irritated.
Not at the nobles.
Not at the North being slighted.
But at herself.
The music swelled, masking the silence between us, yet when she spoke, her voice was clipped and low.
"...You didn’t have to step in."
"I did," I replied just as quietly. "Because you shouldn’t have."
Her brow twitched.
That was as close as Alice Draken ever came to admitting fault in public.
We stood side by side, facing the crowd like statues carved from different stones—hers sharp and gleaming, mine plain but solid. From the outside, it must have looked like loyalty.
From the inside, it felt more like damage control.
"You turned it into theater," she said after a pause. "They backed down."
"Because they understood the rules," I answered. "Not because they feared your anger."
She exhaled slowly through her nose.
"...Annoying."
I almost smiled.
Almost.
But the moment passed, crushed by a voice that was equal parts welcoming and unbearably irritating.
"Alice! That was amazing just now!"
An unwelcome guest slipped neatly into the conversation.
I didn’t even need to turn to know who it was.
"Oh? Julies is here too. Hello."
She smiled sweetly. "My fiancé was quite splendid."
On the surface, her tone was warm—polite, even friendly.
But at the same time, her fingers moved subtly at her side.
A brief sequence of gestures.
Perfectly controlled.
Visible only to me.
—You don’t belong here.
In other words: leave. Now.
...She wasn’t entirely wrong.
The people gathered here were the children of powerful houses—earls at the very least, some even higher. Their clothes alone screamed pedigree.
And I?
The second son of a minor noble family. Barely qualified to stand at the edge of the room, let alone near the center.
I could already feel it—the glances that skimmed over me with thinly veiled disdain.
Why is someone like him here?
Indeed, her words had logic behind them.
—No.
I answered in the same silent language, my response short and unmistakable.
I had no intention of yielding.
Not when I was here at the Duke’s request.
Not when I was acting as Alice’s attendant.
And certainly not when I noticed that gaze.
That suffocating, possessive stare tracing Alice from her head down to her heels, as if trying to carve ownership into her very existence.
...As if I’d indulge something so selfish.
"I’m grateful for the compliment," I said aloud, keeping my tone courteous.
"Hehe. Of course," Amelia replied lightly. "It’s only natural to praise one’s fiancé."
We smiled at each other.
Laughed, even.
To anyone watching, it was a harmless exchange.
But beneath the surface—
—It’s your turn to step back this time, isn’t it?
You’ve had more than enough opportunities. The emotion you’re leaking right now is... distinctive.
—Are you blind? Staying this long at the banquet only causes trouble for Alice as well.
Words never spoken clashed like blades.
A silent war of territory, fought to secure the seat beside the so-called goddess.
And yet—
It felt like preparing a grand ritual without a single offering.
Empty. Forced. Meaningless.
Before either of us could press further, Alice let out a small laugh.
"Haha, it’s good to see you two getting along," she said lightly.
"However, I have some matters to attend to."
She turned, already taking a step away.
"So I’ll leave you here for now."
"Ah, Lady—!"
"Alice!"
Both our voices overlapped, reaching after her.
Uselessly.
The hem of her purple dress swayed as she moved farther away, disappearing into the crowd as if carried by the current of the banquet itself.
Left behind, silence crept in.
Amelia’s smile thinned first.
"...Well," she said after a moment, tilting her head. "It seems we’ve been abandoned."
I exhaled quietly.
"Seems so."
Her gaze sharpened, no longer bothering with pretense now that Alice was gone.
"Since she’s not here," Amelia continued softly, "I’ll be direct."
I met her eyes.
"I won’t interfere with your relationship," she said. "As long as you remember your place."
I gave a small, polite smile.
"My place," I repeated.
"Yes," she said sweetly. "A servant. Nothing more."
I leaned slightly closer, lowering my voice just enough.
"Then allow me to return the courtesy," I replied.
"As long as you remember yours."
For the first time, her expression wavered.
Just a little.
Not anger.
Not fear.
But irritation.
A crack in the flawless mask.
The music resumed behind us. Laughter swelled once more. The banquet flowed on, uncaring.
But between us, something invisible had settled.
A quiet understanding.
This wasn’t over.
Not tonight.
Not anytime soon.