Chapter 06

“What? Excitement?”

At Patrick’s rather romantic-sounding remark, a burst of laughter erupted from inside.

“Excitement? Patrick, you’re more of a romantic than you look. What kind of excitement could there be between two people whose families arranged their relationship?”

“You just don’t understand. Being with that woman, Ritrisha, is like being with a perfectly crafted porcelain doll.”

With an exhausted sigh, Patrick picked up another glass.

“She hardly talks, and no matter what happens, she just quietly smiles. Sometimes, she even gives me the creeps. I wonder if she’s actually a living person.”

“Come on, isn’t that a little harsh? What are you going to do if your fiancée happens to hear you?”

“Let her hear it. Even if she did, my fiancée would probably just smile again, wouldn’t she?”

Tap.

Patrick placed the second emptied glass on the table and shrugged.

“I mean it. If you don’t believe me, want to make a bet?”

“If you’re that confident, I don’t see why not.”

“…Pfft.”

Someone challenged Patrick’s words, and after a brief silence, Patrick shook his head.

“Never mind. I don’t think it’ll be very fun. Come on, enough with this boring talk. Let’s finish our card game.”

He soon lost interest in the conversation and returned his attention to the cards in his hand.

“……”

Ritrisha, who had been standing there silently watching everything, approached Patrick.

She placed her hand on the thick door that had been left ajar, and—

Creeeak.

The sound of the heavy door being pushed open echoed throughout the corridor.

“…Risha?”

Only a few seconds ago, Patrick had been insulting Ritrisha without the slightest hesitation. Yet the expression on his face when he actually came face-to-face with her was quite a sight.

His eyes darted around anxiously, clearly wondering whether she had heard what he said, while his lips formed a pleasant smile as though nothing were wrong.

Then there were his hurried hands, extinguishing his cigar and straightening his disheveled clothes.

In the brief moment it took Patrick to approach Ritrisha, he displayed quite an impressive variety of reactions.

“Um… When did you get here, Risha?”

“A little while ago. Come to think of it, you said you had something important to take care of, but I suppose you arrived earlier than I expected, Patrick.”

“Ah… Well.”

At the sight of Ritrisha looking no different from usual, the bewilderment on Patrick’s face gradually disappeared.

Soon, he wore a warm, affectionate smile as though nothing had happened.

“Ah, yes. Actually, I only arrived a little while ago myself. Still, if I’d known you were coming, I would have gone to meet you at the city gates. I’m sorry I made you come alone, Risha.”

He claimed that he had only just arrived himself, yet the sweet scent of champagne—who knew how long he had been drinking—clung heavily to him.

“You understand, right, Risha?”

As he called her by that affectionate nickname, Ritrisha stared at him quietly.

His honey-blond hair was swept naturally to one side.

His beautiful face looked as though it belonged in an oil painting hanging inside a temple.

Patrick possessed the kind of striking appearance that could steal anyone’s gaze.

Though he had the blemish of being an illegitimate child and had never been properly acknowledged by Duke Godwin, his face was beautiful enough to make even those shortcomings seem irrelevant.

That was why every noble young lady had, at least once, secretly harbored feelings for Patrick.

No.

Perhaps it would be more accurate to say that they did harbor feelings for him.

At least, judging by the red lipstick stain on the collar of Patrick’s pristine white shirt.

“By the way, you look rather pale. Are you all right? Why don’t you come inside first…”

“No. I’m fine.”

“Risha?”

Patrick had been reaching toward her pale, round cheek as though he were being affectionate, but when Ritrisha avoided his hand, he awkwardly withdrew it.

“Hmm…”

Then Patrick reached toward the tray of desserts held by the servant standing beside him.

As he moved, the lipstick stain became even more conspicuous.

Impossible to ignore.

Did he really not know what he had smeared on himself?

Or was he doing it deliberately?

After pondering for a moment, Ritrisha reached her conclusion.

Patrick clearly had no idea that the traces of his secret rendezvous were still so blatantly visible.

“……!”

After catching sight of his reflection in the gleaming tray, he hurriedly pulled his clothes together.

“Ahem! Ahem.”

He shot his friends a look as though asking why they had failed to tell him sooner, then turned back around as if nothing had happened.

In his delicate hand—the hand of a man who had apparently never even held a sword—was a glass of pink champagne.

“Risha, at least have something to drink.”

“This… Is this for me?”

“Hm? Of course. Who else would I give it to if not you, Risha?”

Patrick laughed cheerfully, as though she had asked something utterly obvious.

His smile was so genuinely radiant that even Ritrisha, who had personally overheard him speaking ill of her, almost believed for a moment that his laughter was sincere.

If it weren’t for the champagne he had handed her, she might truly have believed it.

“Patrick.”

“Yes, Risha.”

“What is this champagne made from?”

“Uh… Judging by the color, I’d say peaches?”

“…And you want me to drink it?”

Clink.

As Patrick innocently swirled his glass, Ritrisha suppressed a hollow laugh.

“What’s wrong, Risha? Don’t you like peaches? I seem to remember you saying you did before. Or am I mistaken?”

No.

Ritrisha did not like peaches.

No—she couldn’t like them.

The moment even a piece of peach touched the tip of her tongue, her throat would swell up in an instant. How could she possibly like them?

She had told him that countless times.

He had even personally witnessed her nearly dying because of the peach cake he had given her for her birthday.

Yet Patrick wore an expression as blank as a fresh sheet of paper, as though he knew absolutely nothing about Ritrisha’s peach allergy.

Should I tell him again?

Ritrisha parted her lips, preparing to explain it yet again.

Then she simply closed them.

She had realized that there was no point anymore.

“Risha. Is it because you feel uncomfortable drinking something from the Imperial Palace? There’s no need to be. Have some. When else will you ever get the chance to taste something this precious?”

Along with his contempt disguised as kindness, Patrick forcibly placed the glass into Ritrisha’s hand.

At that exact moment, a servant approached and handed Patrick a note.

“Excuse me, Lord Patrick. Someone asked me to give this to you…”

“To me? Who… Ah!”

Patrick’s puzzled expression brightened instantly as soon as he took the note.

But soon afterward, he lowered his eyebrows and put on an apologetic expression.

“Risha, what should I do? It seems something has come up… I think I’ll have to step away for a moment.”

“The first dance will be starting soon.”

“Hmm… Yes, about that…”

Patrick looked around awkwardly before pulling the nearest man toward Ritrisha.

“Risha, I’m sorry, but how about you dance the first dance with this fellow? I’ll be back before the second song begins. He’ll make a pretty decent partner for you. Won’t he, Greg?”

“Hm? Ah, y-yes! Lady Esta, please accompany me to the ballroom and let’s have the first dance. Haha!”

Prodded sharply in the side by Patrick’s elbow, Greg stopped munching on his biscuit and gave an awkward laugh.

At that moment, a crumb he had failed to wipe away dropped with a tiny plop into the champagne he was holding.

Bloop, bloop.

The bubbles seeped between the crumbs and dough, and the crumb quickly sank beneath the surface.

“…All right. Go ahead.”

“…! Really?”

For all his shamelessness moments ago, Patrick’s eyes widened in surprise when Ritrisha actually gave him permission.

But that lasted only a moment.

As though he had been waiting for her answer, Patrick immediately left.

Without even looking back.

And on the note clutched in Patrick’s hand as he hurried away…

There was a lipstick mark strikingly similar to the one left on the back of his neck.

Watching Patrick disappear without even attempting to hide his excitement, Ritrisha called out to Greg, who was noisily chewing on his biscuit beside her.

“Sir Greg. Do you really intend to dance with me?”

“Well, yes… Patrick told me to, so I suppose I should?”

Greg scratched his head stupidly with his thick hand.

Yet his eyes were turned sideways like a flounder.

Apparently, he was watching the newly arranged finger foods.

As his friends approached the table one by one, Greg’s body twitched.

He looked terribly anxious that there might not be any food left for him.

And yet, he was apparently supposed to dance as well.

His thick feet planted firmly on the floor shifted helplessly from side to side, almost as though he were already dancing a waltz.

The sight was so pitiful that Ritrisha decided his destination for him.

“You can go. I don’t mind not dancing.”

“Really? Then you should’ve said so sooner!”

Simple-minded as ever, Greg immediately dashed toward the table.

Having effortlessly removed the obstacle, Ritrisha continued holding the champagne Patrick had given her and followed him into the ballroom.

Afterward, she followed Patrick up the central staircase to the second floor.

Not long after, a gentle melody announcing the beginning of the first dance began to fill the ballroom.

As the leisurely melody gradually quickened and drowned out all other sounds, a horrified scream suddenly rang through the second-floor corridor like a discordant note amid the music.

Patrick had been drenched from head to toe in champagne.

“Aaaah! Ritrisha! What the hell are you doing?! Are you crazy?!”