Since the window remained open, voices from outside drifted in—but the pronunciation was slurred, and I couldn't make out the words. "Go back"? An order to return? Ah, probably because the driver lacked an invitation.
Hena called to the guard, drawing his attention to us.
"If you require an invitation, here it is."
"It's not about the invitation right now... the coachman, the coachman... his neck..." The guard's voice wavered. "What was that? Was I mistaken? Everything's fine now."
"What are you talking about?"
When Hena pressed him, the guard shook his head in bewilderment but accepted the invitation nonetheless. Then, checking the name of the House of Count Rohanson listed upon it, he asked—almost defiantly:
"The House of the Counts Rohanson? If you're referring to Count Rohanson, he's already entered."
"Count Rohanson departed earlier. In this carriage are Lady Rohanson, who is attending a debutante ball today, and her chaperone, the Marchioness of Toten."
"Lady Rohanson...?"
The guard, as though doubting these words, peered inside the carriage. Our eyes met. I was about to smile and nod—but the guard turned pale and abruptly lowered his head.
"I-I-I'm sorry!"
Evangeline's notoriety had apparently reached such depths that even a city guard's knees buckled at the mere sight of her. With infamy of this scope, I could truly be called the capital's most notorious villain, and no one would argue.
The worst part was that I had almost grown *accustomed* to people trembling and averting their eyes when they saw me. At least this one didn't bury his forehead in the ground like the maids at the mansion—he merely lowered his gaze. By today's standards, it seemed almost tolerable.
We passed the inspection. The gates fell away behind us, and the carriage rolled forward a little further before finally stopping at the place where the celebration was to be held.
"Luxurious..."
"Isn't it?"
A veritable castle, bathed in radiance, lay before me. It looked as though it had been constructed of pure gold, and the light reflecting off the river made it even more majestic and unattainable. In this era, there were no lamps or LEDs, so one could only wonder how such illumination had been achieved.
_Magic, no doubt._
The carriage came to a complete halt. The venue for the Crown Prince's birthday was called the Lion Palace, and it lived up to its name. Stone lions flanking the entrance stood frozen with gaping jaws, as if ready to pounce on any intruders at a moment's notice.
Hena descended first, about to offer me her hand—but at that moment, another hand reached toward the door. Just by the long, straight fingers with their distinct knuckles, I already knew whose it was.
As expected, I raised my head and was met with a color completely unlike my own: a deep, dark blue. After the endless rains, I hadn't seen a clear sky in so long—but looking into Gabriel's eyes felt as though the clouds had finally parted. And as if to confirm this thought, the rain had indeed stopped.
"Sir Gabriel."
"Good evening, Lady Rohanson."
After we had parted on less than pleasant terms, this meeting felt almost like returning to a long-broken phrase.
His eyelashes fluttered—softly, noticeably—and perhaps it was because he had been especially meticulous in his preparations tonight, but he looked far more striking than usual. His hair was pulled back so that his features were open and defined, making him seem even more defiantly handsome, as if the whole world had crafted him specifically to fit the mold of a "protagonist."
_Indecently beautiful, to be honest._
I caught myself thinking this and finally allowed him to help me out. The entrance was crowded, carriages pulling up one after another, but fortunately no one made any noise around us—as if we were walking on a red carpet. On the contrary, it was as quiet as a cemetery.
And suddenly I thought: the white gloves obligatory for debut attire were actually useful today. Through the thin fabric, Gabriel's palm felt colder than usual, and the sensation was unpleasantly clinging.
"Have you been waiting long?"
We had been delayed by the visit to the marquisate, and I arrived much later than promised. Had he really been standing outside the entire time?
"I recognized the Rohanson house from afar by your family coat of arms—a blessed one, as is commonly believed—and so I waited."
_Good... or rather bad, but oh well._
The symbol of the Rohanson house, incidentally, was a phoenix—seemingly bisected and folded mirror-image, as if in décalcomanie. Not two separate birds, but one, divided into two symmetrical parts, because, as I had been told, only a single phoenix exists. Dolline, my etiquette teacher, had once explained this to me, and why the memory surfaced so clearly now, I couldn't understand.
"You're more dazzling than usual tonight. For a moment, I even thought a star had fallen from the sky."
_There it is._ Another compliment—clearly one of those suggested by Misa—which he had decided to test on me without hesitation. I had expected him to become more reserved after my previous refusal, less forceful. Instead, he seemed even more confident, even a little bold, as if his reserves of self-control and persistence were inexhaustible.
Gabriel, it seemed, was one of those people who cannot back down—even when told outright that this isn't a romance or a fairy tale.
"You remember what I said last time, don't you?"
_We're just companions. Nothing more. You understand that, right?_
"I remember. But there are too many eyes around tonight, and besides—the temple believes I have feelings for you."
_The temple keeps track of such things? Since when?!_
Sometimes Gabriel lived as if there were no tomorrow, no consequences—only speed and forward motion. The man seemed to know only one direction: *forward*. And he pushed it to the limit.
And yet, if I thought about it, we really had agreed to stay close—to at least muffle the rumors about me, to distract the temple from unnecessary suspicions, and to try to find those who had stolen my summoning magic. But even knowing all this... so *openly*?
"Then I shall gladly support the performance."
Last time I had pushed him away, so tonight I could pull him in a little. If I intended to keep Gabriel close, I needed to do it wisely—otherwise my "catch" would float away, serving no purpose. Dolline would probably say this was the perfect time to put my lessons to good use, and that my lingering knowledge of romance novels could finally come in handy.
I narrowed my eyes and smiled broadly, trying to make it appear natural. After he had been stunned by my smile the last time, I had spent two days practicing in front of the mirror, attempting to achieve the expression that would perfectly suit Evangeline's face.
I had even asked Daisy if it resembled her former mistress's smile—and Daisy hesitated, admitting she had never actually seen her mistress smile. Apparently, the villain never smiled at all; her facial muscles seemed perpetually frozen.
For Gabriel, who loved her face in particular, this apparently proved too much. He stood frozen, speechless, and I—mentally rolling my eyes—lightly tapped him on the sleeve, bringing him back to reality. Then I gestured toward Madame Toten, who was descending behind me.
"Sir, Madame Toten has arrived."
Gabriel noticed her, showing no surprise, and greeted her warmly—with obvious relief.
"Good to see you, Madame Toten. I was worried when you hadn't been in contact."
"I apologize... there were circumstances..."
He didn't press for details, either out of delicacy or because his "warm mode" only activated when I was nearby—the rest of the world seemingly held far less interest for him.
"Since you are here, it means we shall no longer require Bishop Marik's assistance."
Now that I had a chaperone, I no longer had to remain close to a dangerous exorcist, constantly afraid she might decide to "cleanse" me right in the middle of the celebration! I might not be a ghost like Melek, but all of this remained guesswork—and I understood perfectly well that sometimes people die from guesses alone.
"Is Bishop Marik already in the hall?"
"No. She departed before you arrived."
"Departed?"
"Yes. It seems the archbishop summoned her. She mentioned that since you were arriving with a chaperone, you could meet another time when the opportunity presented itself."
"So... Bishop Marik knew that Madame Toten would be with me."
Now it became clear why Gabriel had barely reacted upon seeing her beside me.
But *how* had Bishop Marik known this? She had said she was keeping me under surveillance, and those clearly weren't empty words. Even though Jelly and Pudding had been instantly eliminating any suspicious individuals who tried to linger nearby... how had the information gotten through?
Exorcists, it seemed, had a talent for slipping in where they weren't wanted.
Or perhaps they hadn't been watching me at all—but Madame Toten? She had mentioned her seclusion, and the bishop would have known she had agreed to serve as my chaperone.
"Bishop Marik..." Madame Toten repeated quietly.
Did they know each other? If so, it might not have been surveillance at all—merely a chance encounter.
"Have you met her?"
"Of course." Instead of a neutral response, Madame Toten's voice turned cold enough to make my stomach clench. "It was she who ordered that I no longer be sold holy water."
She hadn't even looked at Diaz swinging his axe with such fury. Now it was clear: the name *Bishop Marik* evoked genuine, profound disgust in her.
"Bishop Marik banned holy water?"
"Yes. As soon as the dark rumors about Ryder began spreading, she declared that there was public opinion to consider—and that the cursed could no longer be given holy water."
Gabriel had mentioned this briefly before, but now the picture became much clearer. So it was Bishop Marik who had cut off the supplies. She truly was the exorcist I had imagined: suspicious, harsh, and merciless to those she deemed "tainted."
And Madame Toten's reaction was understandable. Sacred symbols hung throughout the marquisate—it was clear how deeply she believed in the sun god. Yet the woman who bore the title of his servant, instead of investigating and protecting her child, had simply believed the rumors and branded him "cursed."
"She also said that if holy water doesn't help, then it isn't necessary." Madame Toten's smile turned bitter. "And if you think about it... perhaps she was right, because Ryder still..."
She cut herself off at the name, then suddenly grew wary and glanced furtively at Gabriel. She had realized her misstep: the words about holy water no longer being needed pointed too clearly toward death.
"Ryder... will simply become so healthy that there will be no need for holy water." I caught on quickly, smoothing over the moment. "Isn't that right?"
"Yes... yes. That's right."
Madame Toten nodded, playing along.
On the way here, we had already agreed: the news of Ryder's death must not become public under any circumstances, and it was better if Gabriel didn't know either. For a moment, I had considered telling him—but Madame Toten clearly preferred that as few people as possible know the truth, and I hadn't argued.
Besides, Gabriel was a holy knight. The story of a ghost possessing a child would hardly elicit a calm reaction from him.
His blue eyes remained impenetrable, silent—like the smooth surface of water where the bottom is impossible to see. He stayed quiet, and only after a brief pause did he finally speak.
"Ryder..."