Chapter 81

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Translator: Harry Potta
Chapter: 81
Chapter Title: Friends and Debutante Blues
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"So, who's going to use it?"

Marin glanced at Olive. The quick-witted Olive gave a slight bow.

"I'll wait outside."

"Yes."

Once Olive stepped out, leaving them alone, Surenne's purple eyes gleamed.

"Miss Marin. Stand still for a sec."

She fetched a long measuring tape and took Marin's measurements all over.

"It's not a sword for me that you're making."

Marin raised her arms to make it easier for Surenne.

"Yeah, got it."

Surenne said she understood but didn't stop measuring.

Marin wondered if she should bring Garnet along.

"Is it better if the user comes in person when making the sword?"

"It's best if they do, but then how would you surprise them with the gift...? Sorry, sorry. I'm no good with polite talk."

"I get it. You're from the Sanders Empire, Surenne."

The Sanders Empire didn't draw a hard line between nobles and commoners. Respect came from wealth or power there.

Nobles bowed to rich commoners and treaded carefully around powerful ones. A commoner bantering casually with a noble wasn't a big deal.

Surenne's gaze sharpened for a split second.

"Huh? That's classified. Who spilled?"

Oops. She'd come off too knowing. She couldn't say she'd read it in the novel.

"I could tell from your speech patterns. Sorry."

Marin apologized from the heart, and Surenne let out a big, carefree laugh like it was nothing.

"Nah, nah. Nothing for you to be sorry about. Blame my mouth."

Marin breathed a silent sigh of relief.

"Feel free to talk casually with me."

"Ooh, wanna be friends then? You drop the formalities with me, I'll do the same with you."

"...Friends?"

Her heart pounded at Surenne's out-of-left-field offer.

"Ah, am I not friend material?"

Surenne scratched the back of her light purple hair, looking sheepish.

"No! Let's be friends! I don't have any friends—I really want one!"

Marin blurted it out in a rush. It hit her afterward how brutally honest that sounded, and she cringed a little.

Surenne's eyes went wide, then she cracked up laughing.

"What the—? Figured the Duke's fiancée for some tightfisted noble miss, but you're straight-up real. I dig it. Friends."

"I like it too, Surenne."

Marin offered her hand shyly, and Surenne engulfed it in her big paw.

"Whoa, so soft. Miss Marin."

Surenne flipped and stroked Marin's hand every which way. Her own was rough but warm.

"Friends, but still 'Miss'?"

"Plain names are dull, y'know? Folks call me Olive Oil, Handsome Alchemist, Buff Butler, that kinda thing."

"Then what about Sir Gerald?"

Marin asked, curiosity lacing her voice.

"Duke."

Surenne stated it flat-out.

***

"That's kinda boring."

" Gotta respect the guy footing the bill."

"Fair point."

Marin nodded solemnly, and Surenne gave her back a gentle pat-pat while chuckling.

"We click. You drink at all, Miss Marin?"

"Sorta? Never really gone hard."

"Let's grab one soon then."

"Sure!"

Nothing bridged gaps like booze, after all.

"So, whose sword?"

"Oh, Gerald's nephew. This tall, arms this long. Can't handle heavy blades yet."

"Perfect. Perfect. That's plenty."

"And this gem—put it in the hilt?"

Marin offered the green-based opal from the two gems the Duke had given her.

"Whoa, what's this stone? Never seen one—gorgeous."

"Opal. The gem about to rock the empire."

Marin declared it with swagger, and Surenne patted her back again.

"Heh heh heh. Check my friend go. Badass."

"Thanks."

Getting called badass by a stunning beauty embarrassed her. And her back smarted.

Even with Surenne dialing back the force, she wasn't signing up for seconds.

***

Dia sat on her bed, staring vacantly out the window. The sun blazed bright.

Below lay her unpacked bags. Inside were treasures her parents had cherished, and the dress her mother had readied for her debutante ball.

Eyes shut, the Duke's words soothing Perido echoed relentlessly.

"Your mother wrote me when she bore you, reminding me of her vow to shield you all her life. And she upheld it. So don't resent her—resent me. Hate me whenever; it's fine."

She'd known her mother sent the Duke letters often. Never once replied to.

Had those words been in them?

To protect us forever.

Sorrow surged from deep in her chest.

Why had the Duke done it? Had he truly scorned her parents—and them?

Chest tight, Dia rose.

Stepping from the annex for a lone stroll, she spotted a middle-aged noblewoman on a nearby bench.

Teacher Marin's mother.

Dia approached and curtsied politely.

"Good day, Viscountess Schwenz."

The woman looked up, beaming with delight.

"Oh my, lovely to see you. Lady Dia Adria."

"You know me?"

"Ruby's told me all about you."

"Same here."

Dia smiled. Rubiana really was a people person.

"Lady, care to chat with me a spell?"

"Yes."

As Dia went to sit, the red-haired maid beside the Viscountess hurried over and spread a blanket on the bench.

"Thank you."

***

Dia spoke demurely to the red-haired maid she knew well.

"No need."

"Yuria. Chilly out—fetch two hot cocoas?"

"Yes, ma'am."

With Yuria heading inside the annex, Dia eyed the Viscountess quietly. Seemed deliberate.

"Lady, hear my tale?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"A few years back, my daughter headed to the capital with my husband and eldest son for her debutante."

Dia bowed her head, unable to meet the Viscountess's eyes.

She knows I'm dodging mine.

Rubiana must've blabbed everything.

"I was abed at home, unwell. Meant to follow once recovered. Woke from a nap feeling oddly spry that day. Ah, now I can join the family in the capital. Called the maid for cool tea to shake off sleep. She burst into my room, hands shaking as she served it."

"Why?"

Dia lifted her head, hooked on the story.

"Curious myself, I sipped and asked why the tremors. Carriage crash that day—my husband and son taken to heaven. Daughter injured head to toe, still unconscious. Can't forget that cool tea's taste. Like gulping fire."

Dia gaped at the Viscountess, words failing. Profound grief hid in her steady voice.

"Ah... I had no idea."

"My girl still won't ride carriages."

"...."

Dia reeled, stunned silent.

She pictured Marin. Always bright, gentle Marin—a noblewoman who seemed hardship-proof. Never dreamed she'd carry such hurt.

"House crumbled after husband and son gone. My failings made my daughter suffer so."

"Ah...."

Belated insight churned her heart. She'd dismissed Marin's money talk back then.

"Lady, know why I'm sharing?"

"You heard I don't want the debutante."

"Yes, from Ruby."

"My sister, but loose-lipped."

"Don't chide my sweet friend fretting over her big sis. Please."

Dia nodded at the Viscountess's gentle plea.

"Skipping debutante's your call, but as a mother, I'd love for you to go. It weighs on me—my daughter missing hers."

"...."

Dia gazed skyward. Two white clouds drifted chummily across the blue.

"Would my parents want that from up there too?"

The Viscountess clasped her hand wordlessly.

Dia eased her eyes shut in the soothing warmth.