Chapter 42
The Empress, having taken in Clarissa’s softly flowing brown hair and her sparkling golden eyes, immediately lifted the corners of her mouth in a polite smile, acknowledging her presence.
“Welcome, Clarissa. I’ve heard much about you from Marquess Lisette and Adria,”
Her voice was gentle, yet carried a clear authority that left Clarissa somewhat flustered.
The attention shown to a young lady making her debut seemed excessively intimate.
Of course, Clarissa understood that her father held the position of Imperial Chancellor, so such attention made some sense. But…
‘Father… I can understand. But that Adria—why?’
Before Clarissa could fully dwell on her doubts, Empress Delia spoke again.
“Please get along well with Adria from now on.”
“Pardon?”
Caught off guard, Clarissa absentmindedly repeated her question, forgetting her own position in the process.
Murmurs came from behind her, but fortunately, Clarissa had no time to pay them much attention.
All she could do was nod reluctantly at the Empress’s sudden request.
‘Does she think I came to see Adria? Well, I can understand the sentiment, but that’s a bit difficult.’
“…Yes, Your Majesty.”
Clarissa barely managed a reply, letting her eyes convey that she was hardly capable of handling the Empress’s son.
That alone seemed to satisfy the Empress, who blessed her with a contented smile.
“May the light of Asgard shine upon you.”
With that, the most important procedure of the debutante ceremony was complete.
Clarissa exhaled in relief and, having properly executed her final courtesy, fled the room as if escaping.
“Next is the Count of Morbadic…”
No sooner had Clarissa left than the next name was called.
It was only then that she truly felt her part was over.
Having concluded her audience with the Empress, the young lady was now free to move about.
Yet Clarissa had little desire to do so.
Sure, the Marquess Lisette and his wife were likely waiting for her eagerly in the hall, but at this moment, Clarissa felt a strong urge to do nothing at all.
She deliberately stood in the corner of the hall, hiding her face behind a fan, letting out a long sigh.
That was when someone gently tapped her small shoulder.
“Nu—”
She turned sharply, irritated, ready to scold whoever dared interrupt her rest. But before she could speak, her eyes caught the dazzling sight of silvery hair glinting under the bright lights.
“Aryan?”
Clarissa looked into his deep, ocean-like blue eyes and called a name she knew very well.
But the voice that followed was not the one she had expected.
“Seems like you can’t see me, huh?”
Turning slightly to follow the voice, she saw a handsome man with silky black hair standing there.
Clarissa couldn’t hide her disappointment at hearing his voice before Aryan’s.
“Oh, Your Highness, the Crown Prince, you’re here as well.”
“…Just the shell has changed.”
“Thank you for the compliment.”
Clarissa caught the nuance in Adria’s annoyed remark and smiled brightly.
Although his brow furrowed further, he left it be, as if it were natural, and subtly peeked at Aryan, who still looked dazed.
“Aryan, how do I look today?”
With that, Clarissa twirled gracefully in front of him.
It was like a single flower suddenly blooming, holding its breath in anticipation.
Aryan stared, wide-eyed, as if he had forgotten every word in the world.
Clarissa didn’t rush him.
She simply played with her unusually voluminous, silky brown hair and looked up at him expectantly.
Their eyes naturally met midair.
“…Beautiful.”
It was a short phrase, but enough.
Clarissa’s flushed cheeks turned even redder as she smiled radiantly.
The only one not smiling was Adria, who scowled but chose merely to poke his friend’s elbow, letting it speak for him.
“Ah.”
“Hm?”
Aryan stiffened like a struck lightning, then nervously touched his cravat. Finally, as if steeling himself, he spoke.
“Clarissa.”
“Yes.”
Clarissa responded enthusiastically to his call, pretending not to notice the slight tremor in his voice.
Aryan’s waist bent slightly at that moment.
As Clarissa blinked, Aryan politely asked,
“Clarissa von Lisette, would you grant me the honor of your first dance?”
The hottest topic of this year’s debutante ceremony was clearly…
“Wow… so the rumor was true.”
“Really? Look, she’s right in between the two of them.”
“Ugh, I hate it. Using your family’s power to act like that.”
It was, without a doubt, Clarissa, Aryan, and Adria.
Meanwhile, young ladies from various families, gathered in groups of three or five, glanced at the scene from afar and whispered among themselves.
“How did Rashad Aryan end up like that…”
“Exactly what I’m saying.”
They spoke, barely concealing the dark desires within them.
And they started gossiping about the young lady monopolizing the attention of the men they all admired.
They showed no restraint. After all, the lady in question was Clarissa von Lisette, known since childhood for her temperamental nature.
“No, the Crown Prince must be the one who’s pitiful. How hard must it be to act kindly just because she’s engaged to Rashad?”
The words from one young lady soon became truth in the minds of the others.
Sighs of sympathy rang out here and there, as if mourning the hardships of someone long dead.
After a moment of heavy silence…
“Oh, have you heard the latest?”
“What is it?”
The sticky jealousy could no longer be contained.
“They say Clarissa von Lisette is weighing Rashad Aryan against Crown Prince Adria.”
Clarissa was taken aback as she placed her hand on Aryan’s shoulder.
The fact that she had to lift her head to see his blue eyes, and that his rougher-than-expected hands could easily reach her back despite his refined face, felt strange.
‘When did he grow so tall?’
It was definitely the Aryan she knew, yet holding his hand today felt almost like holding a stranger’s, sending tingles through her fingertips.
‘Calm down, Clarissa. It’s Aryan.’
Steeling herself, she surrendered to the music as it began.
Following the lively melody, she matched her steps to where his hands guided her, spinning elegantly.
Light and graceful, Clarissa focused only on her toes, trying to recall the next step in the dance.
And then, the unexpected happened.
“Ah.”
A voice, half-surprised, half-exclamatory, escaped Aryan’s lips.
Clarissa felt a heavy pressure on her foot and looked up at him, eyes wide.
Aryan’s guilty expression clearly said, “I messed up,” and his voice quivered as if ready to cry.
“Sor—”
“Pfft!”
As he began to apologize, Clarissa burst into laughter almost simultaneously.
In the midst of the music, only the two of them were frozen.
Clarissa danced on his shoulder instead of her feet, using all her strength to contain her laughter.
‘Yes, this is the Aryan I know.’
