One night had passed since Gustav applied pressure. Alto was going through his morning duties while trying to push last night's exchange in the rose garden to the back of his mind. The words "you've overstepped your position" were correct. There was no room for argument. And yet, precisely because of that, a sensation remained—something burning at the edges, smoldering. But today, there was the afternoon tea party. In the main hall's first-floor reception room of the Solvaredo ducal residence—the largest of three reception rooms, with bookshelves that reached the ceiling and an inlaid fireplace facing them—guests began gathering just after two o'clock. Six young nobles from the imperial capital of Solvaredo. All between seventeen and twenty years old, faces pushed forward by their respective houses in preparation for the social season. Every one of them had been drilled in the unwritten law of imperial noble society—the Aristocratic Emotional Ordinance, which treated the display of joy, anger, sorrow, and pleasure in public as "bestial behavior." They all wore the same smile, as if six wax figures made by the same craftsman were lined up in a row. Emilia settled into the chair at the far end, greeting the visitors with that same standardized smile. Her deep crimson curled hair was carefully arranged. Today's dress was pale cream with fine gold thread embroidery. The beauty mark on her right cheek created a hint of charm within her sharp expression. From any angle, she was the perfect heiress. Internally, she was breathing with all her might. (The honesty campaign... I'm going to keep going with it today, but if I suddenly do this in a place like this, it could turn into a complete disaster. There's that whole baker incident. I need to be careful. Careful.) Alto, serving as the attendant, stood at the edge of her vision. Silver short hair, buttons fastened precisely on his butler's uniform, the hand holding the tray perfectly level. Everything as usual. Completely, utterly as usual. Emilia exchanged pleasantries with the guests while lifting her teacup in the soft gaslight. Then the last guest appeared. The moment she saw the figure enter through the door, Emilia unintentionally set her cup back on the saucer. The composure was unthinkable for seventeen years old. His gait had no wasted motion. Long black hair with red streaks mixed through it swayed quietly. And his eyes—mismatched, one black and one red, heterochromatic—swept across the room before stopping on Emilia. A mask of some kind hung from a string at his chest. Not to be used, not to be displayed, simply hanging there. While the other guests offered formal bows, this young man stopped only in front of Emilia. And his voice dropped slightly. "[whispers]I want to see your real smile" The volume didn't reach the others. Only Emilia could hear it—at that distance. A straightforward statement, as if the Aristocratic Emotional Ordinance had never existed. Something detonated in Emilia's chest. She thought she wouldn't let it show on her face. She thought that, and yet her golden eyes wavered for just a moment, her gaze uncertain where to look. In eighteen years, no one had ever said those words to her. Because they were the words she wanted most, somewhere deep down. "...Welcome, Reihert Sebastian" Her voice barely maintained composure. It was nearly a miracle. At the wall's edge, Alto's hand holding the tray went perfectly still for just one beat. --- From the moment the tea party began to the moment Alto's behavior became strange required no more time than it took for a cup of tea to cool. The instant Emilia was about to recommend Earl Grey to Sebastian. "[serious]Allow me to pour" Alto slipped in without a sound. The hand holding the teapot tilted at a perfect angle. Perfect. So perfectly executed as a servant that somehow Emilia found herself pushed back a step. (I was just about to recommend it...) Sebastian showed no particular change in expression and accepted the offered cup. "[gentle]Thank you. ...Are you the butler?" "[serious]Indeed, sir. Please call if you require anything" "I'll do that if the need arises" A gentle response. Soft, but somehow lightly deflecting. Alto returned to the wall. Emilia tilted her head internally. (That was... a strange atmosphere, wasn't it?) After that, Alto appeared at exquisitely timed intervals. Just as the conversation between Sebastian and Emilia began to flow, "[serious]Miss, you should greet the other guests as well"—he quietly interjected. While Emilia moved seats, he pulled up a chair next to Sebastian and seated another guest there. When Emilia returned, somehow another guest had appeared between her and Sebastian. (Is this...?) Midway through the tea party, Sebastian turned his gaze toward the window and said: "[gentle]The rose garden is magnificent. Would you care for a brief walk, Miss Solvaredo?" Just as Emilia was about to answer "Yes, I'd love to," "[serious]An escort is necessary. I shall accompany you" Alto was already standing beside the door. When he'd moved there was unclear. Thus a complete trio was established. As they left, Emilia quietly questioned Alto right beside him. "[whispers]...Are you, by any chance, jealous?" Alto's expression didn't change. "[sarcastic]I'm merely protecting my lady's safety as a butler. You're being self-conscious, Miss" Yet as those words left his mouth, a faint blush spread from his neck to the edge of his ears. Clearly darker than when the baker had cried yesterday about "waiting twenty-two years." Sebastian noticed it at precisely that moment. "[gentle]Your butler seems quite devoted to you, Miss" He said it with a smile, his face perfectly composed. "[sarcastic]A guest's powers of observation are unnecessary in a tea party setting, I believe" "Is that so? Though I'd say pointing out facts is somewhat different from observation" "[cold]I shall take your opinion under advisement" Their eyes met for just a moment. The surface was perfectly gentlemanly. Only their eyes weren't smiling at all. Emilia looked left and right. Alto on her right, Sebastian on her left, herself right in the middle. (Why are the two of them glaring at each other with me in between!? Couldn't one of them ask me something!?) She picked up her teacup again and plastered on a smile. Such was the solitude of a heiress. --- Meanwhile, in the corridor outside the reception room, something else was happening. Gustav Helder—captain of the Weissling Guard, a sharp-featured man with a silver bracelet on his left arm—stood with the guest list in hand. The Weissling Guard was the exclusive protective organization of the Solvaredo ducal house. Eighteen men wearing the "Weissling"—silver bracelets—on their left arms handled all security for the ducal house and its residence. Gustav had served the house as their captain for nearly twenty years. His eyes stopped on one line of the list. "Reihert Sebastian" Gustav's jaw tightened. The Reihert family. A mid-tier noble house in the capital, but not anymore. They had deeply entrenched themselves in the factional struggle happening within the Krone Privy Council—the emperor's direct advisory body, composed of seventeen members overseeing the empire's legislation, diplomacy, and military affairs. They maintained connections with every faction while drawing no clear lines, extracting information from both sides while maintaining their position—that was the rumor circulating in the capital's social circles. A dangerous family, Gustav judged. After the tea party ended, Gustav returned to the guard post's records room and gave a short order to his vice-captain Klaus. "[serious]Background investigation on Reihert Sebastian. Urgent" Then he returned to the corridor and caught Alto the moment he emerged from the reception room. "[serious]Fernbach. Not everyone who approaches the young lady has good intentions" Alto stopped and looked at Gustav. "[serious]Today's guest is from a dangerous family. Remaining unnecessarily close to the young lady—including yourself—exceeds your position" The structure was nearly identical to last night's words in the rose garden. Except today there was an added phrase: "including yourself." Alto paused for a beat, then bowed. "[cold]I acknowledge your warning" There was no emotion in his voice. Gustav left the corridor, and Alto stared at the wall for a moment. (Leaving the young lady's side and protecting her safety—they contradict each other) The two couldn't exist simultaneously. But Alto didn't know if he even had the authority to choose between them. The corridor's gaslight seeped yellow light onto the wall. --- After the tea party, as the other guests began departing in carriages, Sebastian quietly made a request before leaving. "[gentle]Could I see the rose garden for a moment?" Emilia hesitated for just an instant, then answered. "[cold]...Yes. I'll show you" She turned around. Alto was already standing beside the door. "[serious]An escort is required by regulation" The three of them went out to the garden. The rose garden at dusk was an entirely different face from daytime. The lighthouse on the Grao riverbank began emitting orange light, and that glow dyed the leaves of 127 varieties of roses as if wetting them. The roses her grandmother had spent thirty years collecting were now entirely suffused in a gentle orange hue. "[gentle]It's beautiful" Sebastian said it as they walked. "My grandmother collected them. I merely give instructions for their care" "But you love this place" It was stated as fact. Emilia's pace slowed slightly. "...How can you tell?" "[gentle]The garden's maintenance is perfect. But more than that, the way you walk through it—you move like the garden's inhabitant rather than its master" Emilia didn't answer. She didn't deny it either. Alto walked three steps behind. His footsteps made no sound, so sometimes she wanted to check if he was really there. In front of the octagonal pavilion, Sebastian stopped. The lighthouse's light wavered on the Grao's water surface, and its reflection reached beyond the rose garden. Sebastian slowly took Emilia's hand in both of his. "[gentle]You don't have to be perfect" Those words fell quietly into the twilight garden. Something in Emilia's chest loosened, unraveling. You don't have to be perfect. It was the same kind of words as when he'd said "I want to see your real smile" at the tea party, but this time it was more direct, reaching straight to her core. "[gentle]It may lack conviction coming from someone like me, who's worn a mask living in society. But the way you're trying to be honest—" Sebastian paused. "—I found it a little enviable" Emilia couldn't speak. She searched for words, but felt that if she put them into words, something would break. So she simply stood there. Then there was a presence. Sebastian's gaze shifted toward the pavilion's pillar. Alto was standing there. There had been no sound. When he'd arrived was unclear. He was simply there. Silver short hair, ice-blue eyes looking at them. His gaze met Sebastian's. Alto's eyes fell to the hand Sebastian held—Emilia's hand—then rose again. Emilia noticed Alto. Three gazes intersected. A cargo ship's whistle sounded across the Grao River. The rose garden's air stopped. Sebastian didn't release her hand. Alto said nothing. Emilia stood between them, her heartbeat so loud she thought she could hear it, utterly confused. (Why is Alto making that kind of face...?) She recognized it as a "face," but couldn't identify what kind. Not anger. Not sadness. Simply, the usual sarcasm had vanished. The whistle's echo dissolved into the rose garden's twilight. --- After Sebastian's carriage left through the ducal residence's gate, the mansion fell silent. In the guard post's records room, Gustav was reading the urgent report from Vice-Captain Klaus. The Reihert