"If the atmosphere was good, I feel guilty for calling you back."

The First Princess apologized to Marion, who had returned to her side, now masked once again. Marion smiled and shook her head.

"Right now, it’s beneficial for both him and me to stay by Your Highness’s side."

Michelle couldn’t help but laugh along with Marion’s unwavering dedication.

"Thank you for saying that."

Count Agon’s influence shone brightly within the capital, and the nobles, enraptured by Marion’s presence, began to flock to Michelle instead of Marion herself, granting Michelle unexpected popularity.

"Why have you put the mask back on?" Michelle asked, almost regretfully. She had thought Marion would proudly reveal her face now that it was healed.

"I wanted my face to be something only my fiancé could see at this ball. However, if this concerns Your Highness…."

"No, it’s fine. Actually, I feel more at ease knowing fewer nobles are fixated on you. Although, I must admit I am a bit envious of your fiancé."

Michelle glanced in the direction Marion had come from. No doubt her fiancé, the tournament champion, was waiting at the other end.

"Are you giving her a chance as well?"

When Michelle inquired, Marion gave a bittersweet smile and nodded. Christine was the benefactor who had helped her and the person who had supported Maxime for a long time. She would be lying if she said she didn’t feel any jealousy, but she wasn’t unwilling to allow space for Christine.

"What a fortunate man he is."

Michelle chuckled heartily, shaking her head. Perhaps she should consider adjusting the schedule a bit to give Marion some room, she thought as she turned to greet the nobles who sought her attention.

 

People parted like trees lining a path as Marion walked. Maxime chuckled at the sight. Male nobles and even some ladies were captivated, searching for a chance to speak to her, but Marion paid them no attention, walking elegantly towards the First Princess.

"Would you care for a drink?"

A servant offered Maxime champagne as he watched the dancing nobles. Maxime took a glass, closing his eyes briefly to escape the noise.

Despite being alone, no ladies approached him. Anyone who had seen Marion’s smile before she returned to the princess would be hard-pressed to muster the courage. The area around Maxime, though crowded with people, felt strangely vacant, as if an invisible circle had formed around him.

"Alone, are we, Maxime?"

Dennis, looking visibly worn after just a few hours, approached with Charlotte, who also appeared exhausted but more accustomed to holding Dennis’s hand.

"It seems you’ve had a rough time. Where have you been?"

"Dragged around, rather. A baron here, a count there—quite a few noble families I’d only heard of in passing."

Dennis grabbed two glasses from a passing tray, handing one to Charlotte and downing the other in one go. With a satisfied sigh, he appeared more at ease.

"Even though Charlotte here kept most of the ladies at bay, I couldn’t avoid directly engaging with the nobles who approached. Smiling so much it hurt, let me tell you."

Dennis pulled out a chair for Charlotte, who blushed, though not as shyly as before. Maxime looked on with a satisfied smile, unnoticed by Dennis.

"Seems you made quite an impression with your performance, hence all the attention," Maxime teased.

"And why is no one hovering around you, I wonder?"

Dennis frowned at the oddity. Maxime’s usual predicament would have been fielding advances from the ladies, but his solitude was puzzling, though Dennis had his suspicions. Feigning irritation, he pressed Maxime.

"Thanks to my fiancé."

Dennis frowned even more at Maxime’s unexpected answer.

"So, you’re capable of saying such things?"

"And what kind of person did you think I was?"

"A cold-blooded knight with nothing to offer but a sword."

"Aren’t you the same?"

"Touché. Yes, you’re quite the charmer."

Dennis scanned the room, noting that the nobles’ gazes returned as soon as Maxime rejoined him and Charlotte. Ignoring the attention, Dennis changed the topic.

"Christine hasn’t returned yet. Perhaps she’s staying away, thinking you’re still with your fiancée."

"Who’s thinking what now?" Christine’s voice cut in from behind him. The saying about speaking of the devil had rarely been so apt. Maxime chuckled at the timing. Dennis froze, while Christine glared.

"Oh, you’re back, Christine."

Dennis greeted her casually, though she responded with a shrug and a pout.

"It’s not like I was avoiding you just because I thought you were with Marion. Of course, I was curious to see how things would go, but it was out of pure curiosity, nothing more."

Christine’s gaze shifted from Dennis to Maxime, her expression tinged with reproach. Maxime simply gave her an easygoing smile. With a little huff, Christine lightly tapped his chest, her face faintly red.

"Can’t you say something? Don’t just leave me hanging here."

"Sorry. So, what did the princess call you away for? Was it just because of your promise to Marion?"

Christine puffed her cheeks and shook her head.

"No, we discussed a few things. The princess was curious about what kind of person you are. Why she’d ask me and not Marion, though, I don’t know."

Christine quickly added, "But I assured her it was nothing personal on her part."

"About me?"

"It seemed like concern for Marion, but also something else… perhaps something to do with the First Prince. Since you’re still officially with the Second Guard, and continue as his fencing instructor."

Indeed, though they were of the same royal family, the First Prince and Princess shared a closer bond compared to the Second Prince. Maxime thought briefly of the undercurrents between them, some of which even the First Guard, who were closest to the king, weren’t fully aware of.

"I see."

Looking down, Maxime noticed the champagne glasses Christine held. She offered him one, pausing when she realized he already had an empty glass. Smiling, he took hers.

"Thanks. I was thirsty."

"Now it’s just awkward, Senior."

Maxime chuckled and took a sip, while Christine, watching him swallow, found herself gulping softly.

"What is it?"

Maxime looked down at her, his lips still at the glass’s edge. Christine, flustered by her staring, turned her head, glancing at Dennis and Charlotte, who exchanged knowing smiles.

“Uh, what’s happening?” Dennis asked, only for Charlotte to give him a pointed look toward Christine and Maxime. Following her gaze, he nodded, understanding, and quietly led Charlotte away to let them have their moment.

"They’ll be fine, right?" Charlotte asked, glancing back at Christine and Maxime as she held Dennis’s hand.

Dennis smirked as he looked at Christine watching Maxime. "Is Maxime fortunate or cursed?"

"Fortunate. No question."

Charlotte laughed. "He has a beautiful fiancée and Christine, who’s loyal to him. The captains and knights seem to always have women around them. I wonder if that’s just the way it is."

She glanced meaningfully at Dennis, who shrugged.

"Hard to say. Not much of that around me."

"Somehow, I don’t entirely believe you."

Dennis wrapped his arm around her waist, signaling he’d happily escort her. Charlotte, though tempted to tease him, chose to let it slide for the moment.

"Just take care of me for the rest of the evening."

"How about all the time?"

Charlotte looked at him with astonishment. "How do you say that without blinking?"

"Try that again without the blush."

Dennis laughed, pulling her toward the dance floor, where she finally rested her head on his shoulder, smiling.

Meanwhile, Maxime and Christine watched Dennis and Charlotte drift away.

"They’ll be alright, won’t they, Charlotte?"

"They’re already together, aren’t they? Look at Dennis, practically grinning."

Maxime laughed as he watched them. The waltz’s tempo slowed, and the couples danced more closely, swaying gently.

Would he be betrayed by those around him? Would he end up losing his life at the hands of Count Leon Bening, tangled in palace politics, perhaps executed in a bloody coup?

"Senior."

Christine’s voice broke through his thoughts, pulling him back to the present. In the light of the amber chandelier, her gaze held something he hadn’t seen before—a calm yet intent look.

She had always been this way, sensing his brooding and gently pulling him out of his dark thoughts.

Green. Maxime always thought of her eyes as the green of fresh leaves—a color that spoke of the forest and nature’s calm. He had once hoped to remove the concern from her gaze, but he knew it was an impossible task.

"Can you read my mind?"

Understanding the question, Christine smiled and leaned her head on his arm. Tonight, she wore a pale yellow dress, its decorations modest and understated.

"I can guess. I’m always watching you."

Her smile, though familiar, carried a hint of something deeper. Not worry, but an earnestness she rarely showed.

"Marion was beautiful tonight, wasn’t she?" Christine commented, her gaze on him. She understood that his regard for her differed from the affection he held for his fiancée and his former lover, Theodora.

Trust. She had thought his trust in her would be enough, but she wanted more. She wished he would look at her differently, with something beyond trust and friendship. She knew it was selfish, yet she desired that closeness.

"Beautiful, yes. Anyone would say the same."

Christine instinctively placed a hand on her chest, catching his golden gaze fixed on her. The light made it glow warmly. She moved closer.

Could you call me beautiful, too?

Could you look at me the way you did when you kissed me, with that same surprise and thrill?

Her hand rose, and she couldn’t help but meet his eyes again, her thoughts swirling.

"Would you like to dance?"

His tone was one of needing to clear his head. Christine stepped forward, letting him guide her movements. Though he wasn’t eloquent, his touch was gentle as he lifted her hand.

As the evening wore on and the dance slowed, she kept her distance. Just close enough to feel the warmth of his embrace.

"You still have a lot on your mind," he remarked.

"Of course," she replied, feeling an impulse rising within her. She placed a hand on his chest, recalling her conversation with Marion.

"I’ll leave it up to Maxime. Whatever your relationship is, it’s beyond my interference."

"Can you accept that?"

"I never intended to get in the way."

Maybe now was the time.

Christine clenched her fist. Could she be a little selfish? Could she rely on him again?

"I want to stay by your side, Senior," she said, facing him.

"I want to remind you of my promise—that I won’t let you go. One day, I want you to see me differently."

She hadn’t had the courage to ask for a response then, but now…

"Will you let me stay by your side?"

He offered a wry smile, and she felt her heart racing. She only hoped the waltz’s rhythm would mask the sound.

"That’s been decided ever since you saved me."

Maxime stroked her hair, not like a younger sister, but with a warmth that made her look down to hide her trembling gaze.

"Is it really okay for me to be here?" she asked softly.

"Yes. Always."

Christine didn’t know it, but Maxime recalled Marion’s words.

"I only want you to look at me, but I’m fine with others by your side. I cling to you stubbornly, too, shamelessly asking for your love."

We’re all a little selfish. He continued to stroke Christine’s head as she whispered, "You’re a fool."

"You are, too."

They exchanged gentle words, not quite insults, as Christine closed the small gap between them, resting her head on his shoulder. Maxime quietly stroked her hair.