Episode 2
As if trying to regain his senses, Cedric shook his head. Philip, who happened to be standing in front of him, asked with concern,
“What’s wrong, Cedric?”
Philip had a habit of fussing over him whenever others were around, as if trying to assert some kind of superiority. It was usually annoying, but right now, Cedric did feel something was off.
“I’m not sure. Maybe what I just drank was too strong?”
He could feel his voice trembling and his face flushed. Taking his words at face value, Philip offered to bring him some water and left first.
“…Tch.”
At that moment, an irritated voice came from inside the terrace, and the hand gripping him suddenly pulled Cedric inward.
Barely managing to lift his head, Cedric tried to see the woman who had dragged him in. Whether it was because of the heat rushing to his head or the sudden shift from bright light into darkness, he couldn’t make out her face clearly.
But he could clearly see the vivid red of her hair in the moonlight.
It really was her.
Lavinia de Nordvark.
Once known as Lavinia Esca Barkazar.
Why her?
Forcing his sluggish mind to work, Cedric frowned.
He couldn’t explain why he had instinctively thought of her. Biting his lip, he forced himself to find an answer.
It’s because of Philip.
He had seen Philip scanning the ballroom as if searching for someone—so naturally, he thought of her.
At that moment, the woman ordered him,
“Close the curtain. As naturally as possible.”
Her tone was cold. Her eyes were a chilling sky-blue—like a frozen lake.
Does she dislike me?
For some reason, that thought came first.
His already racing heart became even more unstable, and his stomach twisted strangely, as if he had eaten something spoiled.
It was absurd.
If this had been any other woman, he would have joked, “Are we plotting something?” and played along—or politely excused himself.
But now, he couldn’t move at all. Like a naive country boy meeting a proper lady for the first time.
“Excuse me.”
As if trying to ease the tightness in his throat, he hurriedly undid one of the buttons beneath his cravat.
“Would you let go of my arm?”
Even that simple sentence required him to pause for breath. Only then did the woman seem to realize she was still holding him, glancing down at his arm. His fingertips were trembling slightly.
“Oh, I’m sorry.”
She released him at once. As soon as she did, Cedric raised a hand to cover half his face—like someone in an awkward situation, or as if trying to keep his heart from leaping out of his mouth.
It was clearly an overreaction.
Only then did the woman check if he was alright. A flicker of realization crossed her face.
After that, a hint of consideration softened her rigid demeanor.
“You must have been startled. Sorry for pulling you in like that. I was trying not to get caught by Prince Nordiel.”
“Why are you hiding from Philip?”
The voice that left his mouth sounded strange to his own ears.
Even the act of saying it felt odd—a faint sense of guilt tingled at his fingertips.
The woman didn’t seem to notice his unease at all. Her attitude toward him remained perfectly indifferent. Perhaps deciding he was useless, she stepped out herself and drew the curtain, blocking the terrace from the hall.
The soft orange glow disappeared, leaving the terrace bathed only in moonlight and shadow.
As if entranced, Cedric followed her with his gaze.
“I’m sure the prince is dying to dance with me next.”
“If your feet hurt, then…”
“Philip would understand.”
But she didn’t even let him finish. Cutting him off sharply, she added irritably,
“You know that’s not what I mean. Given Prince Nordiel’s personality, he’ll want us to sweep in spectacularly before the spotlight on that couple even fades.”
“Ah.”
Cedric let out a short sound, pretending to understand—just buying time. He didn’t want to irritate her with a foolish question.
Does she dislike attention?
That was possible. After all, she was a princess of a fallen nation. Playing puppet for the victors must have grown tiresome.
Though he vaguely recalled she had moved around quite freely before, his mind conveniently revised that memory, insisting there had been a trace of melancholy in her expression.
Had his thoughts shown on his face?
Suddenly, she spoke as if exasperated.
“That’s not it.”
She continued,
“If we interrupt before that favored couple has time to shine, who do you think people will attack?”
Cedric’s eyes widened.
He hadn’t expected her to understand society well enough to notice that the couple was being favored.
But more surprising than that—
“I didn’t think you cared about such things.”
That she had hidden here to avoid criticism.
Her expression flickered with brief regret.
“Who doesn’t care about things like that? People either pretend they don’t—or they’ve never been in that position.”
At that moment, her expression changed. She must have seen Philip returning.
She pulled Cedric closer to her side. Hiding someone as tall as him in the narrow terrace was no easy task.
Her hand wrapped around his left arm as if embracing him.
His quieted heart began to pound again. Every time he touched her, his entire body felt as though it malfunctioned.
“W-wait—”
“The prince is right there.”
Their bodies pressed closer.
Her face was right in front of his chest. Their feet overlapped, and he could feel the rustle of her dress through his trousers. Their bodies were nearly entwined.
Strangely, perhaps because he couldn’t see her face clearly, this felt easier than before.
His heart was still loud—but at least his mind wasn’t completely shutting down.
Unable to refuse her, Cedric held his breath and lifted his gaze upward. It felt better to stare at the dull stone structure than at the top of her head—or anywhere below.
“Cedric? Where did he go?”
Philip’s voice sounded close—right in front of them.
But why was he more aware of her faint breathing than that loud voice?
It was only natural, human breathing—and yet, when she inhaled, it felt as though the world was drawn toward her. When she exhaled, it felt as though her breath touched his skin.
It tickled.
Afraid she might not have enough air, he had held his breath the entire time. His lungs were beginning to ache.
Fortunately, Philip didn’t search long. Lifting the curtain slightly, she checked that he had gone, then said,
“It’s alright now.”
Even after hearing that, Cedric remained still for a moment—then suddenly pulled away as if burned. His face was flushed red.
There was no excuse he could make for the heat in his face.
“I’m sorry.”
Perhaps his desperate apology was amusing, because she laughed.
“I’m the one who dragged you here.”
His stomach churned again. Cedric squeezed his eyes shut, then opened them—as if that might clear his mind.
If he could regain his composure, maybe he could act normally again.
But she gave him no chance.
“I’m sorry for using you. I’ll be going now.”
And just like that, she disappeared.
Leaving behind only the faint scent of roses.
Cedric let out a hollow sigh.
“Ha…”
The breath scattered into the air as his legs gave out, and he leaned back against the wall.
It felt empty—like something had rushed in and overwhelmed him, only to vanish in an instant.
“What… was that?”
He placed a hand over his left chest. His heart pounded loudly against his palm.
He couldn’t understand why such intense physical changes were happening without his control. It was baffling—why his own body seemed to be ringing alarms beyond his will.
And then, suddenly, Cedric realized.
Sliding down amidst the lingering scent of roses, he murmured,
“Ah… so this is love.”
What he had longed for so desperately—yet when it finally came, it felt less like a sweet blessing and more like a violent affliction.
