Chapter 02
The coming-of-age debut celebration at age sixteen was an important event for any noble of the Lenin Empire.
During this event, noble families would often look for suitable matches among the young men and women, and it wasn’t uncommon for engagements to be arranged shortly afterward.
For that reason, those chosen as the “Lady” and “Gentleman” of the year during the debut were showered with immense attention and popularity.
While she was lost in thoughts about the upcoming schedule, Soph spoke up.
“I heard the Lady of Doltan is debuting this time.”
“Ah….”
At Soph’s words, Bellia nodded absentmindedly.
Having experienced it herself, she knew exactly what it meant.
The Lady of Doltan was this year’s “Debutante of the Year.”
“Young Lady, are you really okay?”
Sue, her personal maid who had been fretting anxiously since earlier, asked with concern. Bellia, her eyes still slightly red, smiled.
“Of course. I just got a bit emotional earlier.”
Bellia laughed playfully, but Sue still looked worried.
Seeing Sue like that, Bellia quietly reached out and pulled her into a hug.
“Sue!”
“Oh my, Young Lady!”
“Bellia, what are you doing?”
Ignoring the startled eyes around her, Bellia relished the embrace she hadn’t felt in so long.
Even after countless regressions, this foolish, kind, warmhearted Sue had never once left her side. If not now, when would she ever get to hug her like this?
Sue had been with her since infancy and had always believed Bellia couldn’t be a fake.
Even when being dragged away, she had always believed in Bellia.
“Mmm, just for a second.”
“Bellia, today you’re really…”
Unsure of how to react to his suddenly affectionate daughter, Soph found himself at a loss. But Bellia turned and hugged him too.
“Just because. Just… today’s a beautiful day.”
Soph chuckled as Bellia playfully rubbed her head against him like a child.
“If you’re not feeling well, you must tell me. Promise?”
“Yes. But first, shall we choose a dress now?”
She still hadn’t figured out how she was going to live or die, but at least for now, she wanted to avoid complicated thoughts.
“Alright. What about this one?”
Soph smiled warmly, pleased that his daughter was finally taking an interest in today’s schedule. He held out a pale pink dress.
With pearl-decorated cuffs and delicate floating lace, it seemed perfect for a sixteen-year-old girl.
“I don’t like it.”
But Bellia immediately shook her head.
“Really?”
“Yes.”
The staff from Peltorom Salon, under exclusive contract with House Arfedi, flinched slightly.
Wasn’t Bellia the one who always wore whatever Soph picked without a word?
They thought the dress selection would go smoothly—but now there was resistance.
“Hmm.”
Bellia gazed at the dress, deep in thought.
Normally, she would have worn it.
Its airy design made it perfect for a debutante ball.
However—
“I can’t become the star of the debut wearing this.”
Bellia smiled faintly.
It was common.
She wasn’t the only one debuting at sixteen.
There would be many other young ladies—and dresses like this would be everywhere.
“Ah, well… this dress is made of the finest silk brought from the Kenfrotone territory. The pearls are top-grade too. It’s not finished yet, but if we add small diamonds to the hem—”
“It’s common.”
One of the staff tried bravely to explain, but Bellia’s response was cool and dismissive.
She turned and held the dress out to Henri, the owner of Peltorom Salon.
“Do you really think I’d become the belle of the ball in this?”
“Ah, well…”
“I doubt it. I don’t like it.”
Not giving Henri any more time, Bellia turned around and quickly started flipping through the dresses on the rack.
One by one, she gave cold, clinical evaluations.
The color is wrong. It’ll make my face look dull. It looks old-fashioned.
The salon staff fell silent, guilty.
For a debut dress—something one wears only once in their life—every effort is usually made.
Sometimes it takes a month, sometimes even a year of dedication.
There was even a count’s daughter who spent three years having her dress made.
In comparison, the dress of Bellia, the only daughter of the esteemed Marquis of Arfedi, was lackluster.
Because she rarely spoke and never complained no matter what dress she received, even the exclusive salon had paid less attention to her.
They were busy making contracts with other noble families for the debutante season.
This had only been possible thanks to Soph’s understanding.
Henri, known for designing for prominent ladies from other families, now bit his tongue.
While he had offered sincerity befitting the mother and daughter’s gentle reputations, he hadn’t given it his all.
Catching sight of Henri flinching, Bellia shook her head.
After debuting in that dress, there had been talk.
“Surprisingly modest for the Arfedi family.”
It wasn’t praise for being frugal—but a critique for not putting in effort.
Beneath it all, there was scorn directed at Soph, who had once been just a baroness before marrying into the marquisate.
Bellia couldn’t care less about being the Lady of the Year—but anything about her mother set her blood boiling.
Bellia looked Henri straight in the eye.
“You understand what I mean, right?”
Though she was smiling, a chill emanated from her.
It was a side of her never before seen—unlike the quiet young lady she had always been. All the salon staff bowed their heads.
Had Henri paid proper attention, there would have been dresses far more beautiful hanging on that rack.
“Bellia, why are you acting like this?”
“It’s nothing.”
Her kind-hearted mother might let it go, but Bellia, who had lived through countless regressions and hardship, could not.
She was tempted to lash out, but in the end, she bore some blame for not caring about the dresses before. After a long pause, Bellia finally spoke.
“Could you bring me pen and paper?”
“Pardon? Yes!”
Afraid she might explode, Henri jumped to comply.
Taking the pen and paper, Bellia began to move without another word.
“Bellia?”
Soph watched as his daughter began to draw something.
Her mother, with her beautiful orange hair, still looked far too youthful to be called middle-aged.
“Mother, your shoulders are beautiful. A dress that covers your neck like that is really awful.”
Henri subtly gestured behind his back.
The dress Soph was about to try on next was hastily whisked away.
“Is that so…?”
That design was the current fashion trend among society ladies—even if the young debutantes weren’t fond of it.
Soph had never questioned it before because the marquis always told her she looked lovely in anything.
“Yes. And Mother, your waist is so slim. That kind of puffy silhouette doesn’t show off your beauty.”
Bellia said it bluntly, without the slightest hesitation, causing Soph’s cheeks to flush.
“You should show off your best features. And change your hair accessory too. Get rid of that weird feather decoration, Mom.”
Bellia grinned.
At seventeen, a princess from the maritime kingdom of Coupha had visited the empire in a dress of that style—and it had instantly become the trend.
Remembering how her mother had once worn a similar dress, Bellia looked pleased.
“Like this.”
Bellia handed the paper to Henri.
“Pardon?”
He tried to hide his fluster as he looked at the rough sketch she’d drawn.
“But the ball is next week…”
“You’re busy, aren’t you?”
Bellia gave him a look that said, Do I really need to say more? Henri bowed his head in resignation.
He knew it was his own fault, and any more pushback might get him kicked from the exclusive contract.
He silently wept, thinking of the overloaded orders already waiting.
“Um, my lady… Could you perhaps explain it a little more?”
“…Fine.”
Bellia, seeing how rough her sketch was, began to explain.
Henri picked up a pen and began redrawing according to her instructions.
“Good.”
Once the sketch was complete, Bellia smiled, satisfied.
There were two slightly different variations of the same design—both acceptable.
“Make both. The deadline… we’ll need to do fittings… Three days? But bring me the fabric before making them.”
“Y-yes, my lady.”
The salon staff turned pale at the thought of a week of sleepless nights ahead.
“Mom, you’re okay with this, right?”
“Of course.”
Soph smiled warmly.
“How could I not be happy when it’s something you’re doing for me?”
“I’ll make you look absolutely stunning.”
“You’re the star of the day.”
“Still.”
Thinking her once-quiet daughter was going through a rebellious phase, Soph gently stroked Bellia’s head.
“Lia, with you by my side, what does a dress matter? I’m already having the best day ever thanks to you.”
Sunlight streamed through the window, lighting up Soph’s orange hair.
Bellia gazed at her mother in silence.
“Mom, I love you…”
Please don’t die. Stay with me.
Bellia swallowed the second part of her sentence.
“What’s with you today, darling? Calling me ‘Mom’ and being all affectionate like this.”
Soph smiled brightly, clearly loving the affection.
“Mom.”
“Yes?”
“I’m really your daughter, right?”
“Of course.”
“I’m really your real daughter?”
“What?”
Soph burst out laughing.
“Of course you’re my real daughter. Do you think I have a fake one?”
She pulled Bellia into a tight hug.
“My daughter must be going through a real teenage phase. Lia, you’re my one and only. Who else could be my daughter but you?”
