Chapter 19
Meanwhile, Eleanor was busy turning down gentlemen who were asking her for a dance after the investment discussion had ended.
“I appreciate your interest, gentlemen, but please excuse me for a moment—”
“Excuse me for a moment.”
Suddenly, a man interrupted, speaking in a polite yet assertive tone as he took her hand.
“…Huh?”
Before she knew it, he was leading her to the center of the ballroom so naturally that it felt as if it was the most natural thing in the world.
Under the grand chandelier, his face came into view.
“You are…”
Crimson-red hair, cold silver-gray eyes beneath thick eyebrows. His sharp, narrow eyes and high nose gave him a strikingly alluring look. He had a lazy yet dangerous air about him.
‘The heir of the Marquess Ortega?’
As soon as she saw him, Eleanor recalled their past encounter.
“Do you really find your life fun, my lady?”
He was the man who, upon their first meeting, bluntly dismissed her life as boring.
A rude man.
That was how she had once defined him.
“Do whatever you want. Life is too short to not enjoy it.”
Ironically, his impulsive words had changed her life.
So, in a way, he was her savior.
He locked eyes with Eleanor.
His silver-gray gaze was as piercing as that of a predator, as if he could see right through her.
“Hmm. Do you like my face, my lady?”
“W-What?”
“You’ve been staring at me. Or am I wrong?”
At his absurd remark, Eleanor flared up in protest, and the man smirked playfully.
“That’s not it.”
“Well, if you say so.”
The two of them naturally followed the rhythm of the music, spinning in sync as they danced.
Eleanor took the opportunity to ask the question on her mind.
“Why did you ask me for a dance?”
“Just because. You looked troubled.”
“Why does that sound like a question?”
“Also, because I wanted to dance with a beauty like you. Haha.”
He laughed easily, almost like a carefree boy.
“My name is Evan Ortega. Remember it.”
“…Do I have to?”
“Of course. I have a feeling we’ll meet again soon.”
As the dance ended, Evan escorted her out—not to the party hall, but to the corridor—before disappearing.
Though their conversation had been brief, Eleanor found their meeting oddly intriguing.
Stepping out of the ballroom, she encountered another man.
This time, he was a stranger.
“…I wouldn’t go that way if I were you.”
A voice suddenly spoke to her from the dimly lit corridor, where she had assumed no one was present.
She turned to see a man with brown hair and brown eyes—his appearance was rather plain.
“And who might you be?”
“…I’m a knight escorting a viscount’s family. Nothing important enough for you to remember.”
The man introduced himself simply, his presence almost forgettable.
“The way you’re headed leads only to my master’s room. If you’re looking for a place to rest, I can take you somewhere more suitable.”
She had almost walked straight into a stranger’s room by mistake.
Before she could, this knight had stopped her.
“Ah, thank you.”
“…It’s nothing.”
As he offered to escort her to the ladies’ resting lounge, Eleanor lightly placed her hand on his arm. She could feel his body stiffen at her touch.
“Are you always like this?”
“Like what?”
“You seem…different from most nobles. Are you always this kind to those beneath you?”
At his words, Eleanor chuckled.
“Kindness? You helped me, so it’s only natural to thank you. Don’t you think so, Sir Knight?”
She found him quite curious.
“Not everyone is like you, my lady. Some believe even the smallest kindness is their right, not something to be grateful for.”
His tone almost sounded like a warning—as if telling her not to be too kind, lest she get hurt.
“…Ah. It was just my concern for a lady who seems too kind. Don’t mind me.”
Eleanor responded with a smile.
“In that case, I should be even kinder.”
“…What?”
“If kindness can spread, if goodwill can remain as goodwill, then I should be even kinder.”
In the past, she had believed that if she treated people well, they would return the favor.
But after going through countless time loops, she learned how easily kindness could be taken for granted. How betrayal could replace gratitude.
She no longer helped people blindly, but that didn’t mean she had abandoned her belief.
“If one small kindness leads to another, then someone else might receive help because of it. Isn’t that a good thing?”
She hoped the knight would believe in that too.
“…”
He remained silent for a moment.
But when she glanced at him, she noticed the corners of his lips had lifted slightly.
Soon, they arrived at the ladies’ lounge.
“Here we are. Rest well, my lady.”
The knight bowed with proper etiquette.
“Thank you, Sir Knight.”
As the door closed behind her, she thought she saw his brown eyes flicker with a hint of green. But she dismissed it as her imagination.
After resting, Eleanor returned to the ballroom.
Looking around, she spotted Catherine—sitting beside another woman.
‘…That woman!’
Flawless white hair and golden eyes.
Unlike Eleanor’s silver-gray locks, this woman’s hair was pure white.
Dressed in a white gown, she resembled either a young bride or a divine messenger.
People adored her gentle smile, her kindness, and her warmth.
But Eleanor knew what kind of person she really was.
“It is your fate. The gods have decided your death.”
When Eleanor had been falsely accused and locked away, left to die, that woman had smiled as she spoke those words.
The same smile that everyone praised as ‘angelic.’
Eleanor’s face hardened as she slowly approached them.
“…So, here you are, Catherine.”
“U-Uh… Sister?”
Catherine had been nodding along absentmindedly to a conversation between Ariana and Abigail when Eleanor arrived.
“And this is…?”
“Oh! You must be Lady Eleanor Valentine!”
Just as Catherine was about to introduce her, Ariana spoke up first.
“I remember your dress—it’s so unique! I’m Ariana. It’s a pleasure to meet you!”
Her golden eyes sparkled as she openly expressed her interest in Eleanor.
“Ah, nice to meet you, Lady Ariana.”
Eleanor responded with a graceful smile.
“Oh, please, just call me Ariana! ‘Lady’ sounds too formal.”
Without hesitation, Ariana grabbed Eleanor’s arm and pulled her closer.
It was an overly familiar gesture for a first meeting.
“No, I can’t do that. We just met, didn’t we?”
“…Huh?”
“If we get closer, then I’ll consider it. But for now, I’m a bit shy. I hope you understand.”
With a calm yet firm tone, Eleanor gently removed Ariana’s hand from her arm.
‘Well done! That’s my elegant and reserved protagonist!’
Catherine cheered inwardly.
Ariana’s face turned red.
“Haha… Y-Yes, of course. My apologies.”
An awkward silence followed.
Sensing the tension, Abigail quickly changed the subject.
“By the way, Lady Eleanor, your dress and accessories—where are they from? I’ve never seen designs like these before.”
“Oh… I actually love fashion, so I designed this dress myself.”
“…You designed it yourself?”
Abigail’s eyes widened in disbelief.
Most noblewomen considered designing clothes a waste of time.
“Yes. Thanks to a friend’s help, I was able to bring my ideas to life.”
Eleanor spoke modestly.
Ariana suddenly gasped dramatically, covering her mouth.
Catherine, however, noticed a sly smile flash across Ariana’s face before she spoke.
