The announcement of the ball changed the atmosphere of the academy. Walk down the hallway and you'd hear talk of dresses; in the dining hall, discussions of hairstyles. The moment classes ended, friends would huddle together whispering their consultations. The Etreille Academy Bilateral Friendship Commemorative Ball—plastered on the bulletin board with those words and the terrifying phrase "mandatory attendance for all students"—had taken up permanent residence in a corner of Tirel Keira's mind. (I just need to avoid standing out. If I stay in the corner and become part of the wall, no one will pay attention.) Telling herself this, Tirel Keira entered the morning lecture hall. She took her seat and opened her textbook. Outside the window, the sky was clear, and the white limestone buildings of Blanche reflected the morning sun, dazzling in their brightness. The door opened just before the lecture was about to begin. The academy director, Guillaume Duval, entered with a teacher—or rather, a single student followed behind them. "We have a transfer student to introduce. This is Ferno Maris." The moment the teacher spoke, every eye in the classroom turned toward the student. Deep purple short hair. Golden eyes that sparkled as they caught the light in the room. Not particularly tall, but with an upright bearing. Around her ears, just the faintest hint of pointed contours—perhaps she had elf blood. And above all, that smile. A smile like a blooming flower, without a trace of artifice, surveying the entire classroom. "I'm Ferno Maris, from Baron Ferno's house. It's a pleasure to meet you all," It was a courteous greeting. Her voice was bright, with no hint of nervousness. The teacher checked the empty seats and pointed to the one next to Tirel Keira. (Of all places...) Tirel Keira's expression didn't change, but internally she let out a small sigh. However, she didn't let it show. No matter how unpleasant she'd felt in her past life, she'd kept smiling—that training moved unconsciously in moments like this. Ferno Maris sat down beside her. The sound of the chair being pulled back. The textbook being placed on the desk. Then a face suddenly turned toward her. "[gentle]Um—you're Tirel Keira, aren't you? I've been curious about you for a while," Tirel Keira looked up from her textbook. "[gentle]...You know about me?" "[excited]Yes! I caught a glimpse of you when I enrolled. And then I heard you were talking with the exchange student from Valdikion—if it's alright, would you be willing to be friends with me?" Her eyes were straightforward. There was no calculation in them. At least, not visibly. (This pattern again...) How many times had she seen this in her past life? This way of closing the distance. The smile. The words "I've been curious about you." If she refused carelessly, it would cause trouble. But if she accepted too readily, it could lead to complications. Yet—Ferno Maris's golden eyes remained gentle and calm. If it wasn't calculation, then perhaps she was simply speaking to her out of pure sincerity. Tirel Keira thought for a moment, then nodded quietly. "[gentle]It's a pleasure to meet you, Ferno," "[excited]Please call me Maris! And can I call you Tirel Keira?" "...That's fine," The lecture began. Tirel Keira kept her eyes on her textbook while quietly paying attention to the presence beside her. Maris was taking notes properly. When she had questions, she raised her hand. When the teacher's explanation was unclear, she'd murmur softly before rewriting her notes. She was calm and sharp-minded. (Not bad.) Catching herself thinking that, Tirel Keira warned herself. Don't judge people after just three meetings. She'd learned how painful that could be in her past life. When the lecture ended and she was gathering her things, Maris leaned forward slightly. "[gentle]Tirel Keira, have you decided on a dress for the ball yet?" "Not yet," "[excited]Then why don't we go shopping together! I heard there are lots of fabric shops at the Mileune Riverside Market—I don't know the area well. I'd be so happy if you could show me around," (So I'm her tour guide.) Tirel Keira almost smiled. The way she asked was honest and not calculating. "[gentle]...Understood. Is after class alright?" Maris's face lit up. She really did look happy, Tirel Keira thought. --- The Mileune Riverside Market in the afternoon was more lively than usual. Over a hundred stalls lined the banks of the Mileune River—fruit vendors, flower shops, fabric stores, cheese stands all mixed together. The calls of merchants, the sound of carts, children running about. The autumn light wavered on the water's surface, and orange reflections danced across the stone pavement. Walking alongside Maris, Tirel Keira realized she wasn't particularly comfortable with this kind of crowd. During her idol days, crowds were always "places where eyes were watching." Even now, coming to busy places made her tense slightly. "[surprised]Wow! There are so many kinds!" Maris stopped in front of the first fabric shop and began examining each piece of displayed cloth one by one. Slowly. Without rushing. Even when Tirel Keira paused, she didn't push to move forward. (She's matching my pace.) Before she knew it, some of the tension in her shoulders had eased. Maris spread out several fabrics and showed them to her, checking her reaction. Not pushy, but still offering her own opinions. "I think this color suits your complexion," "This one has careful stitching"—she had a good eye for observation. At the third shop, Maris picked up a dress. "[gentle]What about this? I think it would absolutely suit you, Tirel Keira," It was a pale gray dress. No elaborate embroidery, with soft lines at the hem. The design was modest, yet the fabric quality was excellent. Tirel Keira touched the material. Indeed, it was well-made. A simple design that nonetheless had elegance. "It's nice," "[excited]Right? So let me check the price—" The shopkeeper quoted the price. Both of them simultaneously said, "That's expensive..." Looking at each other's faces, Maris let out a small laugh. Tirel Keira, caught up in it, smiled a little too. "[laughing]Sorry about that. My suggestion was—" "[gentle]Your eye for selection was correct. Let's look for something similar at another shop," In the end, they found a similar-toned dress at a reasonable price at the fifth shop. While Maris carefully folded and had it wrapped, Tirel Keira looked toward the river. In the autumn light, the water flowed slowly. The city of Blanche floated hazily in the orange glow. (Did I ever have time like this in my past life?) Walking alongside someone looking at shops. Laughing at prices. Just being together without any particular purpose. When she was an idol, travel was always in the manager's car, shopping was always for promotion or gifts. She couldn't recall a single memory of walking through a market with someone in her private time. A small, warm light kindled deep in her chest. On the way back, the two walked side by side along the stone pavement of the Mileune Riverside. The evening breeze had started to pick up, carrying the scent of the river. "[gentle]Tirel Keira, thank you so much. I definitely would have gotten lost on my own," "[gentle]This market is complicated. You'll remember it once you're used to it," Maris walked slightly ahead, gazing at the river. Her profile still wore that bright smile, yet somehow seemed to be looking at something far away. Tirel Keira walked a little behind, watching Maris's back. That's when she noticed it. Or rather, felt it. That sense she'd honed so painfully in her past life—the ability to read the atmosphere of the audience even from the edge of the stage. Maris's shoulders were slightly—tense. She was smiling, but there was tension between her shoulder blades. (...Maybe it's just my imagination.) Tirel Keira shifted her gaze to the river. She might be overthinking. She might just be tired. But that feeling didn't go away. --- The Bilateral Friendship Commemorative Ball was held in the great hall of Etreille Academy. Fertina Kingdom and Valdikion Kingdom—two nations carrying a hundred and twenty years of tension, putting on a show of surface-level friendship. That Valdikion Rion would attend this gathering of all academy students in formal dress was diplomatically inevitable, and for Tirel Keira, it was simply "a reason she absolutely had to stay in the corner." At the entrance to the hall, Tirel Keira made a quiet decision. Near a pillar. A wall where few people gathered. An inconspicuous position. She'd thought the pale gray dress was perfect for this strategy. She realized that thinking was completely wrong thirty seconds after entering the hall. Eyes came. One, two, three. Before she knew it, gazes were beginning to gather from distant corners. Golden hair glowed in the warm light of the hall. The gray dress stood out all the more among the debutantes in elaborately embroidered gowns. She'd chosen simplicity to be inconspicuous, but that very simplicity drew attention. (Why...?) While her mind reeled internally, Tirel Keira walked toward the pillar without changing her expression. She tried to erase her presence, relaxing her body, standing as quietly as possible. The music began. The circles of dancers expanded. Tirel Keira intended to remain a wallflower and let the evening end. The crowd parted silently. Valdikion Rion walked toward her. Jet-black hair with red streaks. Gray eyes. Even wrapped in formal wear, that scar above his left eyebrow remained unchanged. The space around him naturally opened—not because people consciously avoided him, but because everyone's body reacted to that aura of intimidation. Tirel Keira froze. Her face didn't show it, but internally the words "why are you coming here" rotated about three times. Valdikion Rion stopped in front of her. "[cold]Can you dance?" Just one sentence. He extended his hand. It's diplomatic protocol, Tirel Keira told herself. When the Valdikion prince chooses an escort at a ball, it's a political action. She might have been selected simply because she happened to be there—a countess's daughter. There's no emotion involved. She took his hand. Valdikion Rion's hand was slightly cold. As she was drawn close, they took their positions for the dance. When his hand came to rest on her waist, something deep in her chest pulsed once, strongly. (...Stay calm.) They began moving with the music. Valdikion Rion's steps were precise and without hesitation. He didn't pull or push, just placed her within the flow. It was easy to dance with. Which made it feel even stranger. Every eye in the hall was on them. The Valdikion prince dancing with a first-year countess's daughter. It was probably a fitting image for the friendship between the two nations. But the person in question maintained a calm expression while bearing the full weight of those gazes. Valdikion Rion leaned in slightly. His face came close to her ear. "[whispers]You're bad at hiding," His low, clear voice reached Tirel Keira's ear. Heat rose to her face. Her head suddenly warmed from the neck up. (That's what I should be saying.) She didn't say it aloud. Couldn't say it. Valdikion Rion's expression remained cool. It could have been ironic, but his tone wasn't accusatory. He was simply observing a fact and stating it—that was the look on his face. The dance continued. Tirel Keira looked away, gazing toward the edge of the hall. Maris was there. Standing with a smile. Beside other debutantes, watching them. Her face was serene. But—both her hands, in front of her skirt, were quietly clenched. The white knuckles of her fingers were visible in the light. --- The moment Tirel Keira entered the classroom the next morning, she could tell the atmosphere was different. It was a difference she couldn't articulate clearly.