The door swung open, and the dress appeared before me in all its glory.
Artemisia beamed, catching every flicker of expression on my face, clearly expecting a reaction—but I simply froze, confused and utterly at a loss for words.
_Is this a wedding dress?_
Snow-white and weightless, with a long, flowing train that pooled like spilled moonlight, it looked exactly like a bridal gown. All that was missing to complete the picture was a veil.
"Well? How is it? Does the lady like it?"
Misa immediately launched into rapid, enthusiastic explanation—where she had drawn her inspiration, what elements she had emphasized, mentioning my shoulders with particular fervor and detailing precisely why she had decided to leave them bare. She went on at length, listing the specific features she had wanted to highlight and the techniques she had employed to achieve each effect.
I listened with half an ear. I had always been indifferent to clothing, so the only thought that kept circling through my mind was how much effort she had poured into this creation. But showing indifference would have been unforgivable toward someone who had worked so tirelessly for my sake.
I stepped forward and pulled Misa into a tight embrace.
"M-my lady?"
Artemisia's entire body trembled like an aspen leaf. I calmly, slowly stroked her back, letting her know that everything was alright.
"Thank you for all your work, Misa. I truly appreciate it. We had so little time, but you accomplished the impossible and delivered the finest possible result. I am genuinely grateful to you."
"Thank... me?"
I hugged her again—a little tighter this time—then released her. Artemisia staggered as though she had lost her footing, and then blushed so deeply it seemed she had just received the most precious gift of her life.
"My lady."
"Mm?"
"My lady, you... you are so *cruel*..."
She whispered this in a strange, wavering voice, leaving behind that mysterious phrase before immediately hiding her face in her hands.
_Did she really think I would say nothing and not pay her a bonus for all her labor?!_ I quickly assured her that the reward would be paid in full, and only then did a smile finally illuminate her features.
After beaming with joy for several more moments, Artemisia collected herself and began to help me dress.
---
I had tried on the dress during the sewing process, but the finished garment on a living person was an entirely different matter. It revealed itself on me in ways it never could on a lifeless mannequin.
"This is a true masterpiece... You agree, don't you?"
Artemisia spoke almost reverently, glancing toward her assistants. Those who had previously only bowed timidly, too frightened to meet my eyes, now hastened to confirm.
"Y-yes! Worthy of going down in history!"
"Y-yes... at the ball, you need only stand still, and everyone will think that you... that you are a masterpiece carved by hand!"
"You're a genius! You'll revolutionize high society! O-of course, Lady Rohanson is a genius too!"
_Why am I a genius? A genius by virtue of my face?_
The assistants applauded with tears practically welling in their eyes, while Misa looked on with the expression of someone receiving well-deserved recognition.
_Hmm._ She wasn't as "innocent" as she might appear. She knew precisely how to keep her subordinates on their toes. Although, on reflection... if I worked for such an obsessive master, I would also utter words of admiration with a tremor in my voice.
"It doesn't restrict your movements?"
"Everything is perfect."
"Then let's hurry and show Sir Gabriel!"
Artemisia exclaimed with solemn grandeur. Catching her mood, I nodded in agreement. Gabriel already seemed enchanted by Evangeline, so perhaps the effect would prove even more striking.
Besides, such scenes were practically obligatory in a romance novel. When someone accustomed to restrained appearances suddenly reveals their full beauty, it inevitably touches the heart. It wasn't that I usually looked disheveled—Artemisia herself had often remarked that my outfits were unique and lovely.
All the way back to the drawing room, she circled around me, showering me with compliments. And when we finally stood before Gabriel, this stream of admiration showed no sign of diminishing.
He didn't release a loud, theatrical sigh of delight like characters in comic books, and his restraint seemed to slightly wound Misa's professional pride. But if you looked more closely, the truth was evident without words. The way his pupils flickered and dilated, the barely perceptible pause in his gaze—these betrayed just how astonished he truly was.
Unfortunately, dilated pupils weren't enough for Artemisia. She clearly expected more and didn't hesitate to demand a more expressive reaction from Gabriel.
"Sir Gabriel, how do you find the lady?"
"It suits her very well."
"No, that simply won't do! You must learn to express proper admiration!"
"She's like an angel!" Mary blurted out.
"*There!*" Misa clapped her hands together. "Excellent, Mary! Just like that!"
Mary—the one who was always dashing through the mansion—had apparently heard from the other maids about the fitting. She had rushed over and squeezed in beside Gabriel.
Daisy seemed to have attempted to restrain her, apologizing for her forwardness, but Gabriel had evidently permitted her to stay. After Kanna, Mary was the brightest ray of light in our household. A future heroine was growing up before our eyes, brimming with kindness and warmth.
"Like a fairy!"
"Exactly!"
Mary showered me with flattering words without pause. She offered compliments, Misa clapped encouragingly, and I felt increasingly awkward—as though they genuinely ought to be bowing at my feet. I wanted to flee.
"Well, Sir Gabriel! Now do you understand what you're supposed to say?"
By demonstrating a series of simple examples, Misa had created the perfect conditions for his response. Although, typically, when one is pushed, a spirit of contradiction awakens.
Gabriel seemed to have finally found a phrase that might satisfy Artemisia.
"Lady Rohanson is like the brightest star."
"Perfect."
These words echoed the style of Mary's typical compliments. Misa, who had been covering her ears in anticipation while waiting for Gabriel to speak, now appeared satisfied and nodded in approval.
_Are you happy now? At least show some sympathy for my role as a living icon..._ I shot Misa a meaningful look, but apparently the signal was misunderstood—she shuddered and pulled Mary closer.
"Mary, let's step outside."
"Already?"
Mary hesitated, but Artemisia whispered something in her ear. The offer must have been tempting, because Mary nodded happily.
Before leaving, she ran up to me and bowed with reverence.
"My lady, thank you for ordering dresses to be made for us!"
So *that* was what Misa had whispered. She was reminding Mary of my earlier request to sew clothes for the girls. Now that my gown was finally complete, she would likely turn her attention to their garments in earnest.
But why were they thanking me? I hadn't done anything yet, and Artemisia—standing right behind me—would be the one doing the actual sewing. _Ah, I understand! It's because I'm the source of funding!_ I immediately accepted this explanation. Whatever one might say, money was a significant factor in such matters.
Artemisia beamed at this, as though all the credit had just been attributed to her alone. _How had she, with such a naive and open soul, managed to survive in this world?_
"Now, Miss Daisy, you need to be measured as well, so let's go together!"
"Excuse me? But I must attend to the lady. At the very least, I'll wait outside the door."
"Oh, no! That's also the mistress's order! Sir Gabriel is here—why are you worrying?"
Artemisia had apparently decided to take Daisy's measurements as well. Daisy looked at me questioningly, and I nodded, granting her permission to go. She relented and allowed herself to be led away.
I watched through the open doorway as the trio departed, then met Gabriel's gaze. I felt awkward, yet simultaneously wanted to laugh.
"Would you honor me with a dance?"
Unlike last time—when I had been the one to extend my hand first—Gabriel bowed slightly and offered his. It seemed that since we were both dressed appropriately, he intended to observe all the proper formalities.
"One dance is hardly sufficient."
There were so many dances at a proper ball that a single one would never suffice. We needed to practice the principal ones at least once, otherwise what was the point of this rehearsal?
"I will accompany you for as long as necessary."
As our hands clasped, I noticed Gabriel hold his breath for just a moment. Was he nervous? It struck me as amusing, because when he kissed my hand in farewell, he always appeared completely unperturbed.
Apart from that formal gesture, this was perhaps the first time we had simply held hands for no particular reason. The thought of the kiss that so naturally follows such a moment in novels sent a slight, unsettling tingle through me.
However, the warmth of his palm was so comforting that the sensation quickly dissipated. _Why was he so warm anyway? Some kind of internal heat?_
As it turned out, Gabriel was equally confident in dancing. He gently placed his hand at my waist and assumed his starting position without hesitation. There was no music, yet I seemed to hear it almost distinctly. I trusted his guidance and took the first step.
Only then did I remember that Artemisia had wanted to see us dance together while I wore the dress—yet she had disappeared. She had probably only wished to witness how Gabriel would look at me in this gown.
"Misa didn't have to leave us alone."
We weren't planning anything improper—just a dance.
"I believe it was her way of showing care."
"She... *cares*?"
"It seems she perceives you as someone special."
"Because she allowed me to call her Misa?"
"That's part of it. But Schmidtiana only sews for a select few. That's precisely why it required considerable effort to persuade her to move into the Rohanson mansion."
Yes, that was accurate. She had initially declared, quite categorically, that she wouldn't work with human skin—so it was unlikely she had come here willingly. Gabriel had most likely been forced to practically drag her. But could that truly be called *selectivity*? It seemed more like strict screening of those she deemed unworthy.
Although, considering the confidence with which she commanded her assistants and the evident mastery of her skill, the notion that she was particular about her clients seemed entirely reasonable. Gabriel's gaze lingered momentarily on the firmly closed door through which Artemisia had vanished.
"She's far more demanding than she appears. Convincing such a woman to take on even the maids' dresses is no simple task."
_Demanding?_ To me, she seemed like a romantic dreamer, intoxicated by the rosy haze of her own fantasies, with a clear tendency toward rapturous adoration. Evangeline's face had apparently made a far stronger impression on her than she was willing to admit.
---
The light conversation continued, never disrupting the rhythm of our dance. The theory I had studied earlier proved unexpectedly useful—I didn't step on Gabriel's foot even once, and no awkwardness ensued. One dance concluded, and we exchanged formal bows. At a real ball, this would typically be the moment when partners changed, but here, in the quiet of the drawing room, we simply moved on to the next dance without parting.
The brief distance created by the bow vanished as quickly as it had appeared. His hand settled at my waist once more, and the warmth of his touch no longer felt scorching—instead, it was calm and confident.
_So what comes next?_ I was still confused about the proper sequence of steps, but Gabriel never let me out of his sight, adapting to my every movement. The rules of dance called for casual conversation, and I frantically tried to recall where we had left off.
_Ah yes._ That Artemisia was going to sew clothes for the servants.
"Misa simply believes that since she received payment, she should work off its full value."
"I don't think that's the case. Artemisia won't budge, even for a substantial sum, if her heart isn't engaged. You, my lady, are simply an exception for her."
I repeated the figure step by step, trying to commit every movement to memory. Without music, one must memorize with the body itself.
Gabriel shifted his left foot. I adjusted my weight smoothly. A slight turn, a graceful transfer of weight... and then his gaze returned to mine.
It was as though he had carved me out of the surrounding space with his eyes alone, rendering the rest of the world a blurry, pale background.
"It seems... the moment I see you, everything becomes exactly like this."