_Oh, well. What's wrong with him now?_
"You understand the situation yourself. The Marchioness Toten simply wants her child to live a little longer... but how can the dead return to life unless another soul is infused into their body?"
Melek, for instance, was also a spirit who had inhabited a lifeless shell.
Gabriel apparently realized there was no way out. He lowered his gaze with bitter resignation. His blue eyes glistened, as though tears might spill at any moment. _Why is he so upset? Pull yourself together!_ But Gabriel, as befitted a proper protagonist, held back his emotions.
"I see. It's unlikely that Madame Toten will ever appear at the temple again."
He spoke with quiet certainty.
"Since God has rejected her faith."
For a holy knight, such words bordered on blasphemy. Gabriel seemed so kind most of the time, yet occasionally he displayed an unexpected harshness. Though he was always gentle with me... _Could this also be the curse of the protagonist's role—gentle only toward his intended?_
"You mentioned that you had dealings with Madame Toten?"
_Does he truly regret losing a trustworthy client?_ The thought crept in because Gabriel was precisely that "warm to only one" type of character.
"Yes. I supplied Madame Toten with holy water."
_Was he really selling it secretly?_
Of course not. Gabriel explained everything in careful detail from the beginning. For someone like me, with limited knowledge of this world, he even interjected clarifications along the way.
"In society, people like Lord Toten—those who are immune to holy water—are said to be rejected by God. Or cursed."
Rachel was not a deity equally benevolent to all beings. Wherever sunlight exists, shadow inevitably arises. Resistance to holy water must be a reflection of this deepest, darkest aspect of divine nature.
Even those condemned to death are granted mercy, yet here holy water proves ineffective. This state is rightly called a curse. Rumor holds that such a person's soul has fallen so low that God himself turns away, refusing to accept it.
However, in reality, this is nothing more than speculation. Gabriel explained that holy water functions primarily as a healing agent—a kind of medicine—and if the body is too weak from birth, it may simply fail to work. Evangeline, apparently, had been one such person.
Madame Toten, it turned out, was deeply religious. She visited the temple frequently, and after a difficult childbirth that had undermined her health, she was restored by holy water. From then on, her faith grew even stronger—almost fanatical.
"But it had no effect on this child."
The baby had been born prematurely, terribly frail. Madame Toten, who had experienced the healing power of holy water firsthand, believed it would help him as well. She began administering it to the child. One bottle wasn't enough, so she purchased a second, then a third... She bought more and more, and soon rumors began to spread.
"They said the child was cursed."
The temple, alarmed by such unsettling whispers circulating among the people, prohibited further deliveries of holy water to Madame Toten. In despair, she knelt before Gabriel—a man she had come to know through her devotion.
"I couldn't turn away from someone pleading for help."
Thus their arrangement was born. Gabriel secretly supplied Madame Toten with holy water, and she made donations equal to its value to the temple treasury. The deal was dubious, certainly, but at least it allowed both parties to maintain a semblance of propriety. Considering that she could never have obtained the water through legitimate channels, it could be said that Madame Toten remained in his debt.
Now it was clear why Gabriel had agreed without hesitation to her unexpected request to serve as Evangeline's patron.
"It would probably be best to seek a chaperone elsewhere."
"Isn't that rather hasty?"
"Madame Toten, I believe, would be better served spending her remaining time with her son."
Gabriel resolved to take on the search for a chaperone himself, putting in additional effort. With only two days remaining until the ball, would he have time to find someone suitable? Perhaps it would be wiser to delay the debut slightly. After all, I hadn't intended to formally present myself at court—I had merely planned to slip quietly into the ball using the Crown Prince's invitation.
"Perhaps."
I found myself involuntarily absorbing his melancholy.
It was tragic, of course, that the child was dying, but there was nothing I could do. If I had remembered even a fragment of the original plot and been able to seize upon some clue, everything might have been different. In many situations, I relied on the experience of reading novels countless times, but here I was utterly helpless.
If I could do something practical—as I had done for Daisy's siblings—I would help without hesitation.
"If my efforts prove insufficient, I will ask Duchess Bael to serve as your chaperone."
"Duchess of Bael?"
"Yes. She is Raphael's mother."
The sudden mention of such an important figure stunned me. But then I processed what he had said—Raphael's mother. My jaw nearly dropped in astonishment.
I had assumed Raphael was simply a handsome young nobleman, but he was the son of a duke! Did that mean his rank was higher than mine? And if we dug deeper, might Gabriel turn out to be a duke as well? What if he wasn't an orphan at all, but rather the secret son of the late emperor? Such things happened in novels, didn't they?
But if Raphael's connections were so impressive, why hadn't Gabriel approached him immediately, rather than choosing Madame Toten? Had Raphael categorically refused to become Evangeline's chaperone?
"After Raphael became a knight, their relationship was essentially severed. Reaching an agreement won't be easy, but the Duchess still holds Sir Raphael dear."
That clarified matters. So this was a last resort. Raphael... _You wouldn't know it from looking at him, but apparently he's quite the rebel._
"Then may I ask why you called me here?"
At last, we had arrived at the main point. Why else would I have invited Gabriel? To practice dancing, of course. If we were postponing the ball, there would have been no urgency, but it seemed Gabriel wanted to prepare a contingency and avoid further delays.
"I need a dance partner."
"But I heard a teacher was hired for you?"
"He couldn't endure it and fled, so only Dolline remains."
At the mere mention of Dolline, Gabriel's brows drew together, disapproval plainly evident on his features. Recently, he had grown inquisitive about her past, discovered that she had once dealt with illicit substances, and cautiously inquired whether we should terminate her employment. For a moment, I had even suspected he was evolving into that particular brand of obsessive protagonist who methodically severs all ties between the heroine and the outside world.
When I spoke with Dolline directly, she admitted she had only dabbled in such things during her reckless youth and now wouldn't go anywhere near them. She begged me not to dismiss her, fervently insisting that she had grown deeply attached to the Rohanson estate and was prepared to serve as long as necessary. Her zeal was practically overflowing.
Her remorse seemed so sincere that I decided to chalk the misdeed up to youthful foolishness. After all, this wasn't reality—it was a novel. Far worse sins occurred here, especially in characters' pasts.
Gabriel didn't argue with my decision to retain Dolline, but the look of disapproval never entirely faded from his expression.
"So you will have to serve as my partner."
I rose and extended my hand. Gabriel hesitated for a moment. A memory immediately surfaced—the teacher who had fled, nearly fainting, when she attempted to touch me. _Was taking my hand truly so dangerous? You and I have held hands many times before, Gabriel._
"Are you uncomfortable?"
"No. Of course not."
In response to my irritated tone, he quickly clasped my hand in his.
"This is the greatest honor for me."
Gabriel allowed me to draw him closer. His gaze lifted sharply, the distance between us shrinking, and I distinctly felt his breath. Our eyes met. I could see the long lashes fluttering, shielding his gaze.
We stood very close, hands intertwined, when a rush of footsteps echoed from the hallway. _Mary?_ Usually only she charged through the mansion with such abandon. But these steps seemed heavier. Before I could complete the thought, the door swung open.
"My lady! The dress is ready—!"
Artemisia stood frozen in the doorway. The same Artemisia who hadn't left her room in days, completely consumed by work on the gown. Apparently, she had finished.
"Sorry, sorry! Enjoy yourselves!"
The door slammed shut. Misa, blushing to the tips of her ears, vanished as quickly as she had appeared. Gabriel remained frozen in an awkward pose, as though we had genuinely been caught in the midst of something clandestine. The scene was absurdly romantic.
_Although, what can I say? We really are in a novel._
"Schmidtiana?"
Gabriel spoke her surname as though confirming he hadn't imagined the entire incident.
It was quite a moment. The position appeared compromising, but we weren't doing anything improper! We had merely been about to dance! I was desperately searching for a way to ease the awkwardness when another knock sounded at the door.
"Artemisia."
Hearing her name, Misa scratched her cheek guiltily and cautiously reappeared in the doorway.
"My lady, it's me."
She hadn't fled completely.
"Sir Gabriel was simply helping me with my training."
"Yes! I believe you!"
I attempted to explain, but she merely smiled and answered absent-mindedly. It was obvious from her tone that she didn't believe a single word.
Because of our important conversation, I had sent Daisy away earlier, so now only the two of us remained in the room. This made the situation even more ambiguous. In an instant, we had become a couple who, seeking privacy, had even dismissed the maid.
_On the bright side, this isn't catastrophic. I'm already in control of the situation. The important thing now is to change the subject as quickly as possible._
"What brings you back?"
"Heh-heh." Artemisia's eyes sparkled with renewed enthusiasm. "Since you're both here... could you try on the dress right now? I want to see how it looks with actual movement!"
She had just fled in mortification, and now she had returned for the sake of her creation. Artemisia truly was obsessed with dresses.
"Of course. Sir Gabriel, would you mind waiting briefly?"
"Not at all. It will genuinely be easier for you, my lady, to grow accustomed to the movements if you dance in the dress itself."
Having received Gabriel's consent, I moved to follow her—but he was still holding my hand.
"Sir Gabriel?"
"Ah. My apologies, I..."
He seemed unaware that he hadn't released me. He let go quickly and covered his face in embarrassment. His ears, which he hadn't managed to hide, turned a vivid crimson.
_A familiar image._ It would be best to leave him alone for a moment, let him compose himself.
Artemisia regarded Gabriel with openly pleased affection, then led me away.
---
"Just try not to gasp at the beauty the moment you see it!"
We stopped before the room I had assigned to Misa. The hallway was crowded with tailors and seamstresses. _Why was everyone standing outside rather than within?_
"The lady must see the finished dress first!"
Now I understood. Artemisia had sent everyone out so nothing would interfere with the reveal. Before opening the door, she mimed a theatrical fanfare with her hands.
"Ta-da!"