Chapter Title: A Slap and a Choice
_…Why such an expression?_ Before Flavia could question further, Adèle spoke smoothly.
"I'm sorry, madam. I cannot obey your orders."
"…!" Flavia's face twisted as she stood up.
"You greedy girl! You're blinded by money! How utterly vulgar!"
"It's not about the money."
"Then it must be a man! I know very well what young girls like you think. You're finally confessing that you plan to seduce Lord Cesare with your looks!" Adèle remained silent for a moment before speaking.
"Then it means you find me pretty, madam. Thank you. But I also have my preferences."
"What…!" Flavia clutched the back of her neck in shock. What had this shoeshine girl been raised on to have such a positively wired mindset? Adèle continued calmly.
"I just… enjoy the food here."
"…What?"
"The cook is very good. Have you tried it, madam?"
"I've eaten the food here hundreds more times than you!"
"Did it suit your taste?"
"Of course! If Bonaparte's food isn't the best, you won't find anything worthy of being called food in all of Santnar!"
"Oh." Adèle smiled slightly, looking a bit pleased. For the first time, her usually expressionless face showed some life. Surprisingly, that small smile completely transformed Adèle's impression. Though pretty, her expressionless face had been dull and unappealing, but now she looked as lovely as a shy angel.
"I see. No wonder… It was really delicious."
"…" Flavia was at a loss for words due to the sudden change. Was this really the same rigid, indifferent shoeshine girl from earlier? Adèle spoke softly with a faint smile still lingering on her face, filling in for the speechless Flavia.
"Madam, neither money, nor the future, nor love is a luxury I can afford. I don't dream of such things."
"…Did you understand what I said? So leave from Loredan—"
"No, madam." Adèle shook her head.
"For those who have to work today to avoid starving tomorrow, promises like 'I will do this and that for you' are just mirages. The only thing that matters is a warm meal today." Flavia was shocked. She finally realized what Adèle had been thinking when she smelled the butter earlier. It was a very simple thought.
"Are you boasting that you let hunger dominate your rationality? That makes you no better than a beast!" Although it was almost an insult, Adèle didn't even lose her faint smile and asked calmly.
"Madam."
"What now!"
"Have you ever been hungry?"
"…What?" Flavia stupidly repeated the question. Adèle spoke with a gentle smile.
"Have you ever been unable to sleep due to hunger? Have you ever lived for a month on just one hard barley loaf a day?"
"Do you think I've ever lived such a lowly life?"
"No. Your gestures and speech exude the richness of life. You must have lived your entire life receiving a proper education in a wealthy family." Flavia's eyes trembled. The hand holding her stick also shook with indignation.
"You… Are you saying if you were in my place, you wouldn't be any different?" Adèle's serene smile disappeared, replaced by a look of weary sadness.
"Yes." The slap echoed as Adèle's head turned.
"Are you trying to drag me down to your level?" Adèle carefully touched her cheek as she listened to Flavia's shouting. Surprisingly, she did not make a single sound of pain or show any expression of suffering. As if she were very accustomed to it.
"That's right." Adèle's smile slowly disappeared, and a faint shadow of sorrow appeared on her face.
"I've only lived a life of that level. I've lived in an uncertain world where there is no guarantee that I will eat tomorrow just because I managed to eat today." For a moment, Flavia was at a loss for words. In that brief silence, Adèle slightly bent her knees. It was the noble greeting she had been taught by Flavia that very day.
"So no matter how much you command me, madam, I will not leave Bonaparte. I'm sorry."
---
Flavia sat blankly in her chair. She was alone in the gallery. Epony, who had returned to inform her of mealtime, had taken Adèle away, sensing that something had happened. Flavia, gripping her stick, took deep breaths for a long time before closing her eyes tightly.
_…This is troublesome._ The image of the shoeshine girl bowing to her lingered in her mind. Perfect… No, not perfect, but there was a fresh charm even in that slight awkwardness of elegance. After just half a day of education. Flavia had taught many young ladies, but none had shown such progress on the first day.
_Even wearing those shoes._ Come to think of it, she had also walked gracefully when leaving at the end, exactly as she had been taught. Persistent, tough, and outstanding. But what she desired was merely the food in front of her. She wouldn't let go of that.
"…A disaster." It would have been easier if she desired money or aimed for social ascent through her beauty. But this…
"…" Flavia's face grew serious. Her feminine intuition began weaving a connection between Adèle and Cesare as if it were fate. It was undoubtedly irrational, but even so. Flavia, shuddering with an uneasy premonition, gripped her stick tightly.
"I need to find another way…"
---
The next day, Madame Flavia conducted the lesson as if nothing had happened. Adèle also acted as if nothing had occurred the previous day.
"The ball begins with the host announcing it. First, the Grand March is performed around the ballroom in straight lines, curves, and circles to a 2/4 time signature." She walked back and forth in front of Adèle, wearing a canary-yellow dress with fluttering sleeves and a light blue fichu draped over her shoulders, adorned with a pearl band.
"The first dance is traditionally performed with an escort, and gloves must be worn when dancing. You must refuse the dance of any gentleman who has not been introduced…" Adèle listened to her teachings with a straight back, just as Flavia had taught her the day before. She still wore the tight shoes. The pain had intensified overnight. She was used to pain, which was fortunate. A normal person would have long since taken off the shoes and struck Madame Flavia with them.
_At least it's better than Kimora._ Adèle thought back to when she had first transitioned from "Kimora's beggar" to "Kimora's shoeshine girl" with an expressionless face. The initiation involved being dragged into an alley, doused in filth, and severely beaten with a leather belt. Compared to that, having her feet crushed was an elegant and cute punishment.
"…So, are you listening?"
"You mentioned that the dances are performed in the order of Polonaise, Waltz, Pas de Quatre, Quadrille, Bolero, Mazurka, and Cotillion, madam."
"…Tsk!" Madame Flavia clicked her tongue.
"Your expression is like that of a freshly killed pigeon. How am I supposed to know what you're thinking?" Even though it was an obviously insulting remark, Adèle remained indifferent and thought about the taste of pigeon meat.
_Birds don't have much meat on them. They're not very good._ Madame Flavia shook her head, looking tired of Adèle's expressionlessness. The stick tapped her palm.
"…The first dance at a ball isn't very important since it's danced with an escort anyway. The most popular dance is the waltz, and the mazurka is danced with a lover or a person of interest." Although a bit strict, she was indeed a superb educator. Even while wanting to drive Adèle out, she was thorough in her teaching.
"By which I mean, are you listening?"
"You said the mazurka is danced with a person of interest."
"Damn girl." Madame Flavia finally uttered a curse and poked Adèle's shoulder with the end of her stick.
"It means you should dance the mazurka with Lord Ezra Della Valle."
"I will remember that, madam."
"Behave properly. Since there is a contract, it won't be easy for Della Valle to reject you."
"Yes."
"But you were not originally part of high society. Della Valle might use that as an excuse to delay the contract to the next generation."