Chapter 42

-----------------------------------------------------------------
Translator: Harry Potta
Chapter: 42
Chapter Title: The Débutante Ball (1)
-----------------------------------------------------------------

Guests entering Ariadne's ball marveled at the decor, which made them feel as if they had stepped into a fairy's party in a grove. A hired orchestra played a ceaseless stream of sweet melodies, transporting the ballroom into another world. And Alfonso, who had arrived early—quite unlike a guest of honor—greeted his débutante partner in an anteroom off the main hall, his expression one of awe at the sight of the fairy queen before him. Shimmering faintly from head to toe, Ariadne exuded an unbelievable elegance for a young lady making her debut.

“You’re truly beautiful. As graceful as Queen Guinevere of legend.”

Ariadne, who had paid no mind to the praises of Sancha and the maids, felt a slight blush grace her cheeks this time.

“Don’t say things you don’t mean.”

“No, you’re really beautiful.”

Their brief reunion was interrupted by an unwelcome guest. Zanobi swaggered into the anteroom, ready to escort the day's débutante as her ‘partner.’

“What is this?”

Zanobi's belligerent tone filled the room. Having dressed entirely in white under the assumption that he would be the partner, Zanobi looked around as soon as he entered and, upon spotting Prince Alfonso also dressed in white, immediately started a confrontation.

“Where did you pick up this pretty-boy fop?”

His hostility was palpable from the very first moment.

"You know a man is all about his abilities, right? How could you let your eyes wander when you have a handsome knight like me?”

Though tossed out as a joke, the words were barbed with inferiority. He pretended to be tough, but finding his own diminished stature unbearable, Zanobi unconsciously lashed out to soothe his bruised ego. His small eyes scanned the room before landing on Ariadne's attire. Ariadne was stunningly beautiful today, but Zanobi chose to comment on something else.

“Hey, didn’t I tell you not to wear high heels?”

Ariadne had chosen to wear heels nearly four inches high to accentuate the train of her dress.

“You’re so stubborn, aren’t you? You don’t listen to a word I say.”

Ariadne stared at Zanobi, her expression one of utter disbelief. When Ariadne showed no sign of fear or intimidation, Zanobi stepped closer and lowered his voice.

“Change your shoes while I'm still asking nicely.”

Just as Zanobi got so close that the top of his head was level with the tip of Ariadne's nose, a low male voice cut in.

“She won't be entering with you, so she doesn't need to change them.”

“And who are you?”

Zanobi, who had been pointedly ignoring Alfonso, finally exploded. Having lived his whole life on a rural estate, Zanobi didn't recognize the prince's face and harbored a vague animosity toward handsome men. Zanobi raised his fist without warning. He seemed to think a good beating was all a pretty boy needed. But as Zanobi raised his fist to subdue Alfonso with his much-vaunted fighting skills, the ceremonial sword at Alfonso's hip flashed out with the speed of light, its tip aimed at Zanobi's throat.

“Don’t try anything foolish.”

Zanobi was utterly overpowered by Alfonso. But Zanobi didn't think it was because the prince was stronger or because he himself had neglected his training; he blamed the weapon.

“You—who are you?! Are you insane? You're supposed to issue a challenge before drawing a sword! Who can fight a blade with their bare hands when you just pull it out like that?!”

A private duel without a formal challenge—that is, threatening someone by drawing a sword without warning—was a serious crime under the kingdom's law. A grave look settled on Alfonso's face. He seemed furious. Seeing that Alfonso had no intention of revealing his identity, Ariadne decided to kindly enlighten Zanobi.

“Brother Zanobi, you should offer your greetings. This is His Highness, Prince Alfonso de Carlo, the Lesser Sun of the Kingdom.”

However, duels were fought only between people of equal station. If a commoner challenged a noble, the noble was free to teach them a harsh lesson, so long as they left them alive. Alfonso was royalty, while Zanobi was at the very bottom of the lower nobility. A duel between Alfonso and Zanobi was impossible. Zanobi would have no grounds for complaint even if Alfonso were to cut him down to the brink of disability, or if he were dragged to court and sentenced to prison for insulting royalty—or, if he was unlucky, for treason.

“*Gasp!*”

Zanobi leaped back, nearly tripping over a decorative branch behind him. Alfonso didn't bother to pursue the fleeing Zanobi with his sword. Without being told, Zanobi immediately prostrated himself on the floor, paying his respects to the prince.

“Z-Zanobi de Rossi of T-Taranto pays his respects to the L-Lesser Sun of the Kingdom...!”

Properly, he should have knelt on one knee with the other raised, but instead, all four of his limbs were splayed on the floor like a frog's. He trembled like a frog before a sparrow, begging desperately.

“I never dreamed you were the Prince...!”

Alfonso was still angry. He suppressed the fury etched between his brows and asked.

“If I weren't a prince, would you not be sorry for how you acted?”

“What? What?”

“Threatening an innocent lady, raising your fist to a stranger... would you not apologize for such behavior if your opponent were not a prince?”

Zanobi seemed to be at a loss for words. Indeed, he could only answer the prince's question in the affirmative. He was apologizing because it was a prince. To a commoner, he would have offered more than just his fist. Ariadne was inwardly suppressing a laugh, but Prince Alfonso still looked displeased.

“Apologize to Lady de Mare first.”

Even though the prince had ordered it, apologizing to Ariadne seemed to wound Zanobi's pride. He rose from his prostrate position and, with a twisted expression, spat out an apology to Ariadne as if chewing on the words.

“My apologies.”

He looked as if he were barely restraining himself from adding, *‘It's not my fault; this all happened because you're too tall.’* Ariadne smiled sweetly and asked Zanobi.

“What are you sorry for?”

Zanobi was once again struck dumb. In truth, he felt no remorse for anything. After a long pause, Zanobi racked his tiny brain and tried apologizing again for what he thought was his biggest transgression.

“I'm sorry for... speaking loudly and scaring you.”

Ariadne corrected him, enunciating each word clearly.

“You don't seem to understand at all. If you can't figure it out, then memorize this: Whether someone wears high heels or not is none of your business. And whether you like what someone is wearing or not, keep that thought in your head and don't let it leave your mouth.”

Then, as if she had forgotten something, she added one more thing.

“And don't speak to me so informally when we've just met.”

Having said her piece, Ariadne gave Zanobi a gentle prompt.

“Now, why don't you try giving a proper apology?”

Zanobi froze, his brain seemingly having shut down, and couldn't utter a word. When Zanobi failed to respond for nearly thirty seconds, Alfonso coldly dismissed him.

“I hope you've learned something from today's events. You may leave.”

It was a mercy for Zanobi, but Alfonso didn't seem to be granting a favor so much as wanting a man like Zanobi out of his presence.

“I am most grateful, Your Highness!!”

Zanobi scrambled up from his bow and fled the anteroom in a hurry. Even after driving Zanobi out, Alfonso still seemed to be in a foul mood. Ariadne, feeling refreshed by Zanobi's departure, cheerfully teased Alfonso.

“Why are you still upset? If anyone should be angry, it's me!”

Alfonso gazed at Ariadne, his boyish face clouded with a dark expression as he spoke words that belied his youth.

“Ariadne. You're not treated like that at home, are you?”

Full of concern, Alfonso tucked a strand of Ariadne's hair behind her ear. His fingers lingered near her ear for a moment before falling away with reluctance.

“Don't put up with that kind of treatment. You're 'Amazing Ariadne,' remember? You deserve far more respect.”

Ariadne was taken aback by Alfonso's sudden words. She didn't think she had been putting up with anything lately, and she was confused as to why Alfonso, who must have grown up surrounded by love, saw things differently. When Ariadne stood there silently for a long moment, Prince Alfonso wondered if he had made a mistake and asked her a question.

“Ah... Um, was that strand supposed to be out? Did I just tuck it away?”

At Alfonso's question, Ariadne looked at the mirror on the wall. The tendril that Anna had skillfully styled to frame her face was now neatly tucked behind one ear, courtesy of Alfonso.

“*Pfft!*”

Seeing Alfonso's flustered expression, Ariadne playfully ruffled his hair. The prince's hair, which had likely been styled with pomade at the palace, was now tousled into a more natural look. Alfonso, surprised, reached out to mess up her hair in return, but Ariadne had already anticipated his move and dodged just in time. They looked at each other and burst into laughter. Just then, a servant of the de Mare household arrived to inform them that it was time.

“Cardinal de Mare is currently addressing the guests. He is nearly finished, so when we give the signal, you may enter with the music.”

Alfonso and Ariadne quickly straightened their ruffled hair and clothes, composing themselves.

“Please welcome my second daughter, today's débutante.”

*Clap, clap, clap, clap!* Completely unaware that the prince was his own daughter's partner, Cardinal de Mare's speech made no mention of him, focusing solely on his daughter. The prince paid it no mind, faithfully playing his role as partner and escorting the star of the day.

“Shall we, my lady?”

Ariadne smiled brightly, placing her left hand on Alfonso's offered right arm and nodding. Dressed in dazzling white, the pair took a step into the main hall to the orchestra's accompaniment.

“Oh, the second daughter is quite beautiful, isn't she?”

“And the young man with her is incredibly handsome. Who is he?”

“Is that... could that be Prince Alfonso?”

A stir went through the crowd as the guests realized the prince was the de Mare family's second daughter's partner. Whispers that they hadn't expected this level of support, that the de Mare family was investing far more in their second daughter than their first, and that this was due not to the Cardinal's connections but to a personal friendship between Queen Marguerite and the younger daughter, quickly filled the hall. Among those who belatedly recognized Ariadne's partner as Prince Alfonso was Isabella. She nearly snapped the fan in her hand.

*‘How dare she!’*

To think she'd been cooped up at home, pretending to be demure, all while somehow seducing the prince. Standing beside Isabella, Lady Camelia de Castiglione, a baron's daughter, whispered to her with a faint smile.

“Isabella, isn't the title of 'San Carlo's Finest Gem' about to pass to your younger sister? Your parents must be so pleased to have two such outstanding daughters.”

Despite the tacked-on excuse, it was clear Camelia's intention was to get under Isabella's skin. But it was such a perfectly aimed blow that there was nothing to say in response. Ignoring the seething Isabella's shock, the ball proceeded smoothly. The débutante and her partner were to walk down the blue carpet in the center of the main hall to the stage at the far end. There, they would greet the guests, listen to a brief introduction by Cardinal de Mare, share a toast with fruit wine, and then dance the first waltz. They had just reached the stage at the end of the hall, and Alfonso was helping Ariadne up the steps.

“A congratulatory message from His Majesty the King has arrived—!”

An official from the palace announced in a booming voice the arrival of a royal envoy with the King's message. Ariadne and Alfonso, one on the steps and one below, exchanged surprised glances. As far as Ariadne knew, she had received everything the palace had to offer: the hydrangeas that morning and the prince himself. Ariadne mouthed to Alfonso.

“What's going on?”

Alfonso shook his head.

“I don't know either.”

Neither of his parents knew he was here. Worried about how word could have gotten out, Alfonso watched the envoy carrying the King's message. The royal delegation blew a horn, drawing the guests' attention. At the sound of the horn, the guests hastily paid the entering envoy the same respects they would show the King himself. Ariadne quickly knelt on one knee and bowed her head. With the exception of Cardinal de Mare and Prince Alfonso, who merely inclined their heads, every guest in the hall was kneeling. The King's envoy entered the main hall slowly. The King's envoy was a handsome man with reddish-brown hair, dressed in a bright cream-colored suit: Count Cesare de Como.