Chapter 54

“It’s too much, Marie.” Rowen Green whispered. 

“I did it on purpose. Because no matter what I say, I would be cursed at.”

Rowen Green smiled faintly and added. “Thank you for saving me. If I waited any longer, I felt like I was going to tear the handkerchief she was holding.”

“It was nothing,” Marisuez replied with a chuckle. The three of them went out to the terrace with champagne and took a deep breath of the summer night air.

“Ha…I feel like I’m finally alive.” Rowengreen SIghed.

“Have your fiance not come yet?”

Rowengreen smiled hearing Marisuez’s question, “I don’t think he’ll come today, maybe tomorrow.”

“Ah, so that’s why the mood was gone. He has to and offer you flowers every day.”

“The flowers have been sent through the servant.” Rowengreen pointed to the fresh flowers in attached to her hair. 

Marisuez shook her head. “No, he also has to plug it in himself.”

“Well, I don’t think he’s that kind of person who does that.”

Sigrid spoke cautiously, “Who is Rowengreen’s fiancee?”

Marisuez looked at Rowengreen, “It’s the son of Marquis Illisaeng, isn’t it? What’s his name again?”

“Hatien.”

“RIght, that is his name.”

Sigrid searched that name in her head, but she couldn’t find any information about him. And somehow, it made her feel guilty. “I wish I could see him in person.”

“You could see him.”

“But you said he would come tomorrow.”

Marisuez turned her eyes to Sigrid, “Aren’t you coming to the ball tomorrow?”

Sigrid’s gaze wandered here and there, then back to Marisuez. “Do I have to come tomorrow too?”

“It’s been a long time since we’ve had a ball. I think most of these people will attend everyday? How many days are you going to do it this time?”

“A week.”

“Well, it’s a short time then.”

“Tomorrow….” Sigrid murmured, then sighed briefly. The ball was hard for her. She had to engage in conversation she didn’t understand with the people she didn’t know. Well, to be exact, normal social conversation was already hard for her. ‘If I talk well, will the ball become fun?’

“Ah,” Marisuez quickly stared at Sigrid, her voice breaking Sigrid’s contemplation. “Are you going to wear that dress again tomorrow?”

Sigrid looked down at her dress and nodded.

“I hate it!”

It was not a ‘you can’t’ but ‘hate it!’. And Marisuez’s voice was full of disgust.

Rowengreen raised her eyebrows.

“Actually, I don’t know why I have to come tomorrow too. Of course, it makes sense if I come to see Rowengreen’s fiance, but I thought I’d see him today.” Sigrid said in hesitant.

“I’m sorry about that. I should have told you in advance, but I only got a news from him a while ago.” Rowengreen apologized.

Marisuez stared at Sigrid. “Are you forcing yourself to come?”

“Huh?”

“Tha ball, it’s not fun?”

“I’m not sure. It’s really hard to have a conversation with people. Sword practice is more fun that this. But….” Sigrid tilted her head and smiled, “It’s nice to wear pretty clothes and pretty make up. Of course, it’s still difficult for me to do it myself. I think it’s because I’m not good at it, so I can’t enjoy it. If I do well, maybe I could enjoy it properly.”

The process was quite enjoyable because of Marisuez’s magical hand. But it was pretty much a high-level difficulty for Sigrid to do it on her own.

Marisuez thought for a moment, “It’s okay not to come if you don’t like it.”

“Oh my…,” Rowengreen opened her eyes dramatically wide so that it made her eyes even rounder while looking at Marisuez. 

“You’re not that much of a party person anyway, aren’t you?”

“Oh my goodness?”

“Rowy!”

“Uhm, mm…, well. That’s right.”

Marisuez squinted her eyes and glared at Rowengreen, then looked at Sigrid, “I’m not a good swordmanship either. I’d really hate it if you suddenly try to train me to be good at it.– Wait, that’s right. Why didn’t I think about that? It would be better to start witha small tea party rather than a large ball like this.” Marisuez suddenly fell into thought for a moment.

Sigrid was relieved knowing that she didn’t have to attend tomorrow’s ball. 

“Did the conversation go well?” Rowengreen turned her eyes to Sigrid, leaving Marisuez lost in her thoughts.

“Hm?”

“Sir Lunatil. Didn’t you go to the garden with him?”

Sigrid tightened her lips before opening it, “I kicked him.”

“What?!” Marisuez woke up from her thoughts.

“I did what Marisuez told me to.” Sigrid innocently looked at Marisuez.

“For real? Did you really kick him?”

“Uh-hm.”

“How?”

“I kick his stomach with my knee…”

“Wearing that dress?!”

“That’s why I didn’t kick well.”

Marisuez stared blankly for a moment at Sigrid, who looked very sullen, and then burst into laughter. 

**

“Oh, my ears are itchy.”

The Vice Unit Commander, Nas, quickly responded to Veramood’s words, “There must be more than one person curing at you, Chief.”

Veramood narrowed his eyes and looked back at his adjutant. 

Nas’s small eyes made it difficult to guess what kind of expression he was making. 

“You’re calmer than usual today.” Nas continues cheerfully.

“Calm?”

“Yes, if it’s usual, you would have already emptied two bottles of wine and danced with this lady and that lady while giggling.”

“Uh.. I seem like a scoundrel if you say it like that.”

Nas gave a silent answer ‘right?’ by just looking at Veramood. 

“I’m done for today because I already dance with a girl I like.”

Nas tilted his head, “Now that I think about it, who is the recruit you said before?”

“Hmm?”

“You know, the twenty-year-old Aura user?”

“Oh, I don’t know. It seems like it’s going to happen yet at the same time it’s not.”

“Try a little harder. It looks like the 2nd squad is gritting their teeth right now.”

“I try.” Veramood tapped Nas on the shoulder. “You go and have fun. It’s a long-awaited ball.”

“What about you Chief?”

“I’m going.”

“Already?” Nas was surprised by Veramood. His face soon became serious. “Are you feeling unwell? Would you like me take you home? Or—”

“No, I’m fine. Really.”

My stomach hurts a bit, but Veramood couldn’t tell that. 

Veramood decided to leave the ball early. He looked at the ballroom for a moment before leaving. As he was waiting for the carriage, he heard a noise coming from behind. When he turned around, it was Sigrid. 

Veramood grinned, “I couldn’t think any other woman who is willing to run in a dress except you.”

“Veramood.”

“Hmm?”

“I’m sorry for kicking you earlier.”

The apology was so unexpected that Veramood was surprised by that. 

Sigrid tried not to leak many things in her words, “one of my friends said that violence should still be that last resort. You did a bad thing, but I also have gone too far.”

Veramood did not know who that friend was, but he prayed that that friend would receive a reward from God.

“I accept it. This is how you do it, right?”

“But if something like this happens once again, I would impose sanctions differently.”

Veramood’s raised his hand, “I won’t.”

“I see.”

“Can I compliment you then?”

“What?”

“Your eyes are pretty as if there is a sunrise in it….”

Sigrid’s eyes opened widely.

“Your skin is so bright as if transparent? Your hair sparkles like silver coins, and is flowing down in a waterfall?”

“Well, well, that’s—”

Sigrid was not at all immune to such praise that she began to fidget, not knowing where to focus her gaze. 

“And you’re good at handling swords.”

Sigrid’s eyes suddenly turned to Veramood, “Really?”

“Huh”

“That I am good with a sword?”

“Uh, you don’t know? Of course, you’re good. Your level of swordsmanship is by no means common.” Veramood added.

Sigrid smiled brightly at Veramood. She was so happy to receive such praise. She was happy and satisfied. Especially when that praise came from Veramood Lunatil. What could be sweeter than a compliment from the lips of a lifelong rival?

Veramood could not take his eyes off Sigrid’s face for a while. 

However, Sigrid’s smile evaporated and disappeared as cleanly as morning dew. “It looks like a carriage has arrived.”

“Huh? Yeah.”

“Good luck then. I’ll see you next time.”

“Oh, yeah.”

Veramood climbed into the carriage. 

When Sigrid was no longer visible from the window of the carriage, Veramood put his foot on the opposite chair, smirking. 

‘What a woman. More pleased by compliments on her swordsmanship than on her looks.’

***