With Annecy escorting her, Goyo entered the ballroom. After exchanging pleasantries for a brief moment, time passed quickly, and the hour struck.
The sound of trumpets filled the air. The Empress, who was hosting this ball, appeared and delivered the customary greeting, officially commencing the event.
Since Goyo’s husband, who was quite popular, was quickly surrounded by politicians, Goyo found herself free. But only for a moment—soon enough, the hyenas descended upon the wife of a powerful man, whether they were men or women.
They all started speaking about one subject in unison.
“My goodness, Lady Bethelgius! You’ve become so much more beautiful since your marriage! You were already lovely, but now you seem even more radiant and vibrant!”
“Your complexion has improved so much! Is there some special beauty product you use at Bethelgius?”
Though Goyo knew most of it was flattery, there were a few remarks so polished they could almost be mistaken for genuine admiration, which made her feel a little embarrassed.
In social circles, one couldn’t afford to show weakness, so she tried to gracefully thank them and brush it off. But it was the first time she had been showered with so many compliments on her beauty, and her hands awkwardly fidgeted as a result.
Barely managing to suppress her embarrassment and handle the crowd appropriately, Goyo discreetly escaped to the terrace.
* * *
Even as he engaged in political conversations, Annecy’s gaze was fixed on one spot.
It hadn’t been long since he left her alone, but already a crowd of men and women had gathered around his wife, who now resembled a puffed-up winter sheep.
Of course, it was natural for people to flock to those in power at events like this, but half of them seemed more interested in Goyo’s appearance than in her influence.
Indeed, even Annecy had to admit that Goyo Bethelgius looked more beautiful than usual today.
Her long neck, exposed beneath her elegantly styled hair, was more graceful than the white deer he had seen in the Ramona Forest. The gold necklace draped across her straight shoulders stood out mystically against the deep green fabric wrapped around her body.
He understood why eyes would be drawn to her. However, those eyes should only be directed above her neck or below her waist.
His innocent wife seemed to interpret their comments as mere superficial flattery, but Annecy could clearly see the dark intentions behind the gazes of several men.
Of course, it was hard to say whether their lecherous stares or his own suspicious nature was darker, but in Annecy’s mind, he was certain of the former.
In the end, Annecy dismissed the crowd. Most of them were insignificant, so there was no harm in brushing them off.
Seizing the moment, Kolabe, who had also attended the ball, approached Annecy with a light step.
He was wearing a woman’s shawl over his shoulders, flapping it around like a child playing at being a hero.
“Are you enjoying the ball, Marquis?”
Annecy swallowed a curse at Kolabe’s obvious intent, especially with the shawl. His attendant showed no shame, despite the sly, sidelong glances.
Refusing to be drawn in, Annecy ignored Kolabe and took a glass of wine from a passing tray. The strong white wine went down like water.
Kolabe, tiring of his own attempts at provocation, got to the point.
“You don’t like it, but you’re still jealous, aren’t you?”
“Don’t talk nonsense.”
“You’ve been glaring at all the people glancing at Madam Goyo ever since we got here.”
“It’s not jealousy. It’s just…”
Annecy paused, searching for a reasonable answer. When he found it, he realized it was exactly how he felt.
“It’s a natural feeling a husband would have. After all, we’re married, aren’t we? What’s wrong with being worried that some random fly might be harassing my wife? It’s both a moral and legal right that a married couple can exercise.”
“Marquis, do you remember what you once told me? I’d like to return those words to you now.”
“What?”
“Say goodbye to stupidity already.”
“Didn’t I just warn you about crossing the line?” Annecy’s eyes began to grow cold again, but Kolabe, wearing an innocent expression, tilted his head.
“Now that you mention it, doesn’t the ballroom feel a bit chilly? If it stays this way, Madam Goyo might need a shawl. Though it would inevitably cover that daring front, it’s better than her catching a cold, don’t you think?”
And with that, Kolabe waved the shawl around again.
As much as Annecy’s irritation rose, he couldn’t deny that Kolabe had a point. He simply glared at him in silence.
The mere fact that Annecy’s gaze remained fixed on him, though lacking in immediate action, was terrifying. Yet, Kolabe, in a strange way, enjoyed this indirect taste of power.
“…Fine. Two shawls.”
“Three.”
“Do you even understand how much 300 gold is?”
“Come on, Marquis. You act so free and easy in front of your wife, but here you are wearing the mask of a merchant in front of me. Let’s be a bit more generous with our money, shall we?”
“You need it, after all.” Kolabe subtly gestured to the shawl, and Annecy ground his teeth as he smiled bitterly. Even so, he knew it was necessary.
“Fine, 300.”
Kolabe shivered momentarily at the tension in Annecy’s voice, but the thought of his previously reduced bonuses being restored quickly brightened his mood.
Feeling as if he had regained something he was owed, Kolabe rejoiced—unaware that Annecy was seriously contemplating cutting his bonus again.
Either way, Annecy, now holding the somewhat humiliating shawl, immediately turned to go find Goyo.
However, his wife, who had been standing in the same spot just moments before, was nowhere to be seen.
Annecy scanned the ballroom, trying to locate her, but soon found himself surrounded by yet another group of people.
Among them was Duke Rubiette.
“It’s been a while, Marquis. How have you been?”
“It’s a pleasure to see you again, Your Grace. I trust you’ve been well.”
Swallowing his irritation, Annecy smiled politely at the appearance of such an important figure, someone he couldn’t easily dismiss.
* * *
The cold breeze on the terrace quickly swept away Goyo’s earlier embarrassment.
Normally, even when people tried to flatter her, they couldn’t hide the artificial tone in their voices. But today, for some reason, they were all unusually adept at their craft.
Placing the back of her hand against her cheek to check that the heat in her face had subsided, Goyo let out a soft sigh.
Don’t get drawn in.
As the chill in her shoulders started to creep in, Goyo decided it was time to leave the terrace. Just then, the door opened.
It revealed a familiar but unwelcome face. Goyo, caught off guard, couldn’t conceal the sudden hardening of her expression.
Standing there, staring at her in surprise, was Terio Alte. She hoped he would just walk away, but judging by how he neither closed the door nor moved, it seemed he had no intention of leaving.
Sighing deeply, Goyo lifted herself from where she had been leaning against the terrace railing and took a step forward.
With that movement, her pale skin, which had been bathed in the soft glow of the moonlight, faded into the shadowed darkness. It was only then that Terio managed to gather his composure.
“If someone is already on the terrace, you should leave.”
“…I won’t leave. I came here to see you.”
Hasn’t he had enough of this after even going all the way to Avalanche?
It had been months since she got married, yet she still couldn’t comprehend Terio’s feelings.
“So, what is it this time, Lord Alte?”
“Are you still using that title? You don’t need to be so formal anymore. It doesn’t matter whether I opposed it or not—you’re already married.”
“That’s right, but I don’t understand how marriage means we no longer need to keep a distance.”
“The dress suits you.”
Goyo’s eyes widened slightly at hearing something she never expected from Terio Alte. However, he quickly followed with,
“But the previous one was better. It was more… like you.”
“Of course, that’s exactly what you would say. No matter what I wear or how I dress, it’s always…”
“None of my business, right? Naturally. I have no intention of flirting with a married woman now.”
‘So, did you come here to debate with me?’
Goyo’s cold voice didn’t faze him as she looked at him with a calm gaze. Seeing her unresponsive, Terio’s face twisted as if something inside him snapped.
“So, are you satisfied? Are you happy?”
“Yes.”
“Ha, happy…”
Terio gritted his teeth at her immediate response, so quick it left him speechless for a moment.
He couldn’t believe that Goyo Rubiette could so easily claim happiness after entering a political marriage with such a man. When had she become so adept at lying?
“I don’t understand, Goyo. The Goyo I knew was wiser, more insightful. Don’t lie out of stubbornness. You’re living with someone who doesn’t even let you wear the clothes you like, and yet you claim to be happy? Do you expect me to believe that?”
“And what’s that supposed to mean? Clothes I like?”
“The dresses you always wore!”
“They were the clothes *you* liked. Not me, you.”
Though Goyo’s voice grew sharper with rising emotion, Terio, too caught up in his own frustration, didn’t seem to notice. Goyo steadied her swirling feelings before speaking again.
“It doesn’t matter who liked what. Whether I wore something because I liked it or because someone else did, I decided to wear this now. I’m not about to debate it. But don’t think you can judge me on your own terms.”
“So, you’re saying that dress is your preference?”
“I picked it out. Do I need to say more?”
Terio glared at her, his face confused. He opened his mouth to argue, but the words never came as a sharp headache overwhelmed him.
Clutching his head, Terio bent over, clearly in pain. Despite seeing his suffering, Goyo felt no concern.
Not only was she not worried, but all that came to mind were mechanical solutions: Should she ask if he was okay? Should she call someone? Yet she felt no curiosity about why Terio Alte was complaining of a headache.
She found her own indifference strange and almost inhuman, but she didn’t feel inclined to blame herself. The only thing she felt toward Terio Alte now was responsibility, nothing more.
“Should I call someone?”
Terio shook his head at her flat question. After a moment, he straightened, the pain seemingly subsiding.
Though his face was paler than before, the expression of agony had eased somewhat.
Terio’s eyes widened slightly as he looked at Goyo’s emotionless face. He had expected her to look concerned, worried, or even confused. But her expression was the same as always—calm, indifferent.
A knot of frustration twisted inside Terio, and he felt a surge of betrayal as a bitter smile crept onto his face.
“Right. I was worrying over nothing.”
“Now that you understand, please leave. I don’t want to see you any longer.”
Terio’s face twisted in frustration once more, and he slammed the terrace door behind him as he left. The loud bang echoed in her ears, but to Goyo, it was the sound of peace returning.
‘I should leave too.’
She considered staying on the terrace a bit longer, but even though it was early spring, the night air was cold. Her somewhat revealing dress provided little warmth, and a shiver ran through her body.
With no other choice, Goyo left the terrace and returned to the ballroom.
It was warmer inside than it had been outside, but not warm enough to completely chase away the chill that had settled into her body.
Perhaps I should have listened to Annecy. As the cold crept in, Goyo glanced down at her dress. She rubbed her cold arms, and suddenly, an arm appeared in front of her.
Seeing the shawl draped over her arm, Goyo slowly lifted her gaze.
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