Chapter 33

“They say they’ll hold a spring ball in a month, combined with Berieta and Heliote’s welcome party.”

“Excuse me?”

Ah, right.

I think this development happened in the original too.

“So you’d better hurry up and find a lady to escort.”

But wasn’t it not supposed to be a month later?

❖ ❖ ❖

[Mr. Altaire, I apologise for writing so suddenly, but could I ask for your help? Right now, there is no one else I can turn to or even vent to except by writing this letter.]

“Today, the first young lady you’ll meet is Lady Adela, second daughter of House Garson. She graduated top of her class in healing magic at the Eastern Travasson Mage Tower. Her mother is the sole heiress of House Elfin, which runs the largest shipyard in the North.”

Madam Mores quickly walked after Tessarion, reciting the matchmaking profile.

“She is 28, same age as Your Grace. She only postponed marriage to finish her healing mage course. She is a lady of both intelligence and beauty.”

Sitting elegantly in a parlour filled with southern plants and luxurious art, Lady Adela rose and bowed as Tessarion and Madam Mores entered.

Tessarion held my shoulder and bent slightly.

“Do your best. She’s a healing mage and an heiress.”

But… an older woman by eight years is a bit intimidating.

“……Yes.”

I sighed softly and approached her with what I hoped was a gentle smile.

[The thing is, Duke Claremont is putting me in such trouble lately. One day, he suddenly declared he would marry me off. As soon as possible – by the end of this year at the latest. You probably won’t believe it, but it’s true. I’m only twenty…]

“The second young lady you’ll meet is Lady Olieve, eldest daughter of Viscount Cariesh. As you know, the Cariesh family has served Claremont for generations. Lady Olieve studied for three years in Sian, Eastern Continent, making her fluent in their culture and language. As you can see, she is a delicate and pure beauty.”

In the tea room adorned with pink blossoms and lavender, the curly-haired young lady smiled brightly while holding a teacup.

At Tessarion, not me.

“……Again.”

I glanced at Tessarion and drooped my shoulders.

Sure enough, this lady asked the same question as the first.

“I hear you’re close to the Duke. What has he been interested in lately?”

……My marriage.

Swallowing my true thoughts, I smiled brightly and lied.

“Lately… I think His Grace is most concerned about Princess Berieta.”

“Oh my, but I heard Princess Berieta is very ill. Is the Duke worried about her?”

No. They haven’t even looked each other in the eye yet.

Feigning emotion, I replied with tears welling up.

“Of course. Even if he glares at me so seriously, inside he’s burning with worry for Princess Berieta.”

[I’m still tormented, unable to let go of someone I love. Marriage classes, matchmaking – it’s all torture. But if I defy the Duke, my brother back home will die.]

“The last lady today is Lady Petunia, only granddaughter of the president of Roswelden Bank, one of the Empire’s top three banks.”

Madam Mores closed her notebook with a snap, not even bothering with further praise.

After having tea poured all over me during the second meeting, I looked at Tessarion.

Do I really have to keep doing this in this state? Please, let it end here. I let tears well up to look as pitiful as possible, but Tessarion only patted my shoulders firmly.

“This time, you ask her the first question. Understand?”

Damn it, I was a fool to beg sympathy from a war demon.

“……Yes. Understood.”

I muttered softly, brushing my wet hair back.

This is the last. I straightened my back and lifted my chest. Rolling up my damp cuffs, I exposed my veined forearms confidently.

Since it’s come to this, let’s go with a ‘refreshing sexy’ concept.

I strode confidently towards the banker’s cherished granddaughter.

“Hello, Lady Petunia. I am Roy, eldest son of Baron Dover.”

My facial muscles, which had been working overtime all day, held on just a bit longer.

Petunia didn’t even reply. She just looked anxiously at Tessarion walking away.

“Lady Petunia?”

Villainess #3 scowled fiercely at me, then lifted her skirts and walked after Tessarion.

“……What backwater bumpkin is this?”

Hey, I’ve only introduced myself and she’s already rejecting me?

My composure snapped from all the accumulated frustration from Villainess #1 and #2. I grabbed her gently with a broad smile.

“Madam Mores told me your grandfather is truly remarkable. How much is the Roswelden Bank president planning to set aside for your dowry?”

Three seconds later, a slap flew across my face.

❖ ❖ ❖

[Is there perhaps a spell or potion to make someone fall in love at first sight? If such magic existed, love would be so much easier… I ask only because I’m at a complete loss.]

“A magic to make someone fall in love at first sight?”

Altaire blinked down at Roy’s letter.

Warm sunlight streamed through budding branches. Altaire’s reddish-brown hair fluttered in the breeze.

“Hmm.”

He quietly pulled out a thick dictionary from thin air and began looking up ‘love’.

“Last time it was space and time, and now he asks another impossibly difficult thing.”

Magic begins by defining its target clearly. The infinite universe, invisible microorganisms, human feelings and relationships – anything without a clear shape cannot become magic’s target.

Maybe because he had no mana, Roy tried to pull impossible targets into the realm of magic.

Professors dismissed him, saying it was madness, but Roy passionately explained time and space to them. To Altaire, it was an eye-opening shock.

After decades of single-minded research, he finally completed teleportation magic. It was revolutionary, but ironically, Roy himself couldn’t use it.

To leave this planet for another star or time as he wished required top-grade mana stones possessed only by the Emperor, the Tower Master, and the High Priest – and even then, it was impossible.

When Roy learned that truth, he was deeply dejected. No – he became an empty shell.

“…….”

Altaire absently traced the page edge, lost in bitter memories.

From his shoulder, Omok tugged his hair.

“Ah… I was just worried about Roy.”

Chirp!

“It would be nice to talk face to face…”

Though it had been over a month since Altaire arrived in the North, he still couldn’t see Roy.

The defensive wards around Claremont Castle were too dense. Besides, Roy never left Tessarion’s side.

“Absolutely not! Even if His Grace commands it, I refuse! This is an insult to me and my family!”

A sharp voice rang out across the wide garden. Someone was approaching the pergola where Altaire sat.

“Lady Petunia, this is all part of your training to become a cultured lady. A mature woman must resolve matters calmly with composure.”

A plump, grey-haired madam tried to soothe her.

The pink-haired noble lady stopped abruptly and turned back sharply.