The cobblestones of Northhein's capital were narrower than those of the royal capital Falcrest, and in places they were slick with moss. As the carriage descended the final slope, Leon Crawford gazed out the window at the small townscape spreading before him, still feeling the orange afterimage of the campfire lingering behind his eyes. That night when Celes spoke of the stars clung to his chest with a vague but unmistakable warmth. (I'd like to hear that voice again.) He caught himself thinking such a thing and shook his head. What was he doing? He had two thousand four hundred fifty-two gold coins in debt. "We've arrived in Northhein. I've completed the preliminary estimate for lodging costs." Godeau spoke without lifting his face from the ledger. His fox-like golden eyes traced the columns of numbers, his light brown curly hair slightly whitened by travel dust. "I didn't ask." "The accounting is complete regardless." Celes descended from the carriage first. Still in her deep indigo traveling clothes, she set foot on Northhein's cobblestones. Her long silver hair swayed white in the evening light. She glanced at the inn sign, then immediately opened the envelope she was holding. The White Birch Inn—a two-story building with white birch wood exterior walls, exactly as described in the world setting as "the only decent inn in Northhein." White smoke rose thinly from the chimney. The smell of burning firewood and the warm aroma of simmering root vegetables drifted out. The moment Celes unfolded the envelope, her eyes stopped on a single sheet of paper. "...The eve festival program has arrived." Her voice had returned to the temperature it held when they first met at the fortune-telling parlor. Calculated, quiet whispers. Leon felt his neck tense slightly. Celes unfolded the paper. Leon leaned in to look from the side. Godeau stood silently behind them, holding his ledger to his chest while looking down from above. A list of performances. Reception. Seated dinner. And in the first performance slot, written in careful calligraphy: four characters. "Engagement Announcement Ball" Leon's gaze was drawn into those four characters. "...Can you dance?" "I can dance." He answered without hesitation. Then came three seconds of silence. Celes raised her gaze from the paper and looked at Leon. Godeau opened his ledger. He took out his calculator. Without a word, he began clicking away. "Additional entry: Emergency dance training fees—calculating..." "Nothing's even started yet!!" Celes grabbed Leon's sleeve. She pulled him close. Before he knew it, the distance between their faces had dropped below ten centimeters. Her violet eyes looked straight at him, missing nothing. The scent of sandalwood filled his nostrils. Unlike the orange of the campfire at night, the violet eyes seen up close in the white light of day held a deeper, far more composed color. Leon couldn't lie. "...I can't dance." Celes blinked once. "I knew." "You asked knowing I couldn't!!" "Accounting complete. Emergency training fees: eight gold coins." "Why can you calculate it instantly!? You even have the amount!?" The three of them pushed open the door to the White Birch Inn. --- The back room of the White Birch Inn—apparently normally used as storage, with a broom and burlap sacks pushed into the corners, a space of about four tatami mats—had been converted into an impromptu dance floor. Though "converted" just meant moving the luggage to the walls, Godeau's positioning himself at a chair by the window with his ledger spread open created an odd sense of authority. "Place your right hand on my waist. Hold my hand with your left." Celes said it matter-of-factly. Leon did as instructed. The moment his right hand touched her waist, he felt something transmitted directly through his palm. Body heat through a single layer of fabric. The vibration of breathing. The travel clothes were more practical than her usual dress, and the fabric was thinner than he'd expected. The sandalwood scent grew denser. Leon's thoughts quietly dissolved, like sugar melting in hot water. "Which foot should I start with?" "Your right foot." Leon stepped forward with his right foot. Celes stepped with her right foot. "That hurts." "I'm sorry!!" "First contact. Foot-stepping damage, recording initiated." "Don't record it!!" He stepped with his left foot for the second step. He stepped on Celes' foot again. "...You fought a dragon, right?" "I did!" "Did the dragon step on you?" "The dragon was the one doing the stepping! I was the one being stepped on! Why am I the one stepping now!!" "Second foot-stepping incident. Cumulative damage: equivalent to two silver coins." "Don't assign monetary value to foot-stepping!!" Around the third set, Leon made a dash for Godeau's ledger. If he could just get it out into the hallway, it couldn't be recorded. "Theft of ledger, recording—" "I won't let you record it!!" The moment he stretched out his arm, Celes grabbed it. He was pulled back. In that momentum, Leon's face nearly buried itself in Celes' shoulder. The two of them stopped. The air in the storage room froze completely for several seconds. Celes' silver hair brushed against Leon's neck. The sandalwood scent was thick. Leon was looking at the wood grain of the white birch wall over Celes' shoulder. He tried to say something, but the words wouldn't come. Celes' gaze wavered slightly. It was only for an instant. But it definitely wavered. Godeau was looking out the window. His ledger closed. "...Let's continue." Her voice was slightly lower. It held something different from calculated whispers or commanding tones—something else entirely. Before the fourth set, Celes looked down at Leon's left hand. It was trembling slightly. Leon knew better than anyone that this was a different kind of trembling than when he'd fought the dragon. Celes' fingertips rested on the back of Leon's hand. Not pressing, not gripping—just resting there. Slender fingers, surprisingly cold. "You're trembling." It was a small voice. Not loud enough for the whole room to hear. "Shut up." Leon's reply was equally quiet. Godeau pretended not to hear. He was looking at his ledger, but there was no sound of pages turning. After that exchange, somehow the steps began to align a little better. --- The eve festival venue—the town hall of Northhein, a stone building normally used for town meetings, with fireplace flames and candlelight staining the walls red—was entered by the three of them just after seven in the evening. The female receptionist at the reception desk confirmed the invitation and looked up. "Miss Celes Vela and your fiancé... and this person is?" "Financial advisor." Godeau answered immediately. He adjusted the brim of his hat with two fingers and repositioned his ledger under his arm. Completely unruffled. "The invitation doesn't list a financial advisor—" "The hero's finances are extraordinarily complex. Without me, he cannot take a single step forward." Leon said "That's right" from beside him. It wasn't a lie. Without Godeau, he truly couldn't take a single step forward—in terms of debt. "...Please come in." Legalized. At the seating, the distance between the fiancé seats was closer than expected. A couple who appeared to be frontier nobility sat across the table, with formally dressed people on both sides. Celes casually linked her arm through Leon's. They'd been in close contact many times during training. He should have been used to it. But in the light of the banquet hall's fireplace, the body heat transmitted through his formal shirt was entirely different from the storage room. Sweet, soft, and as the candlelight turned her silver hair golden, the sensation of her quietly leaning against his arm carried a weight that was indescribable. Leon drank water. The noblewoman across from them smiled. "My, how affectionate you two are." Leon choked. He searched for something to say, but the only words that came to mind were "Actually, it's fake." Celes opened her mouth with a composed expression. "He's just that sort of person. His quietness is actually quite sincere." The noblewoman laughed softly. Leon drank another glass of water. Godeau was opening his ledger in a chair against the wall at an angle. The time for the engagement announcement dance arrived. The moment Leon stepped onto the floor, his back became stone. Every eye was on him. Frontier nobility, their associates, servants, even the receptionist—everyone was watching. He'd felt more at ease facing the dragon. The dragon was just one creature, and there were no other spectators. His feet wouldn't move forward. His center of gravity shifted backward. The fruits of his training evaporated under the pressure of all those gazes. Celes said quietly. "Look at me." It was a command. Leon reflexively turned his gaze toward her. Her violet eyes looked straight at him alone. In the mixed light of the fireplace's red and the candles' orange, Celes' silver hair swayed gently. The sandalwood scent brushed his nose. The distance was close. The body heat transmitted through his right hand on her waist. The light of the hall reflected small in her violet eyes. He took a step forward. The steps—aligned perfectly. It was only for an instant. Just one beat of music, everything moved with perfect precision. The position of his feet, his center of gravity, the pressure of his hands. With only Celes' body heat, the sandalwood scent, and her violet eyes as his world, there was one perfect moment. Something deep in Leon's chest, unrelated to debt or deception, pulsed intensely. Crash. Godeau's ledger fell from the wall. Leon reflexively turned around. He stepped on Celes' foot. "I'll record the cost of the ledger's fall." Godeau picked up his ledger from the floor and completed the entry entirely on his own. "Why does the ledger have a fall cost!!!!!" The entire hall turned around. The room froze. Celes turned around. There was a full second where she seemed to swallow all her anger. Then she opened her mouth. "He's simply such an endearing person." With a perfect aristocratic smile. Laughter and applause erupted from the hall. There was a relieved quality to the laughter, mixed with warm applause. "How like the hero," someone's voice came from somewhere. Leon stood frozen, his face burning. Godeau was writing something in his ledger. It might have been "applause and cheers fees." He didn't want to check. --- Halfway through the banquet, Celes returned to her seat and looked down at the paper in front of her. It was a copy of the guest list. Leon glanced sideways at it. Her slender fingers slowly traced down the column of names. Her white fingertip stopped at one point. Everything drained from Celes' expression. The seductive smile, the calculating eye movements, the suggestive curve of her lips—all of it vanished. Only a white, stone-like, flat blankness remained. Leon looked at her profile. It was different from any Celes he'd seen before. Not the whispers of the fortune-telling parlor, not the commanding tone of training, not the quiet voice of the campfire night. Something was being desperately suppressed—or perhaps she'd noticed something and frozen. Leon opened his mouth to speak. He was about to ask "What's wrong?" The profile beside him was all he could think about. A feeling was pushing up from his chest—the desire to know about the person next to him before calculating the debt. "Today's eve festival expenses total twenty-seven silver coins. After adding to the debt account—" Godeau held out his ledger. A column of numbers was there. Celes' expression returned in an instant. A calculated smile was plastered back on. She casually put the list away in the envelope and glanced at Godeau's ledger, saying "Thank you for your efforts." Leon looked at the numbers in the ledger. His face went pale.