The evening of the recovery celebration dinner had ended, but Solvaredo Emilia's chest remained restless. The laughter had returned to Zaal Lumière. Gustav had come to apologize. Sebastian had looked at her with those eyes and said, "I want you to tell me your true feelings." And Alto had gripped the serving tray so hard his knuckles had gone white. All of it happened yesterday. But nothing was resolved. Morning had come without her making sense of any of it. Beyond the library window, the Grao River's surface glimmered, reflecting the morning light. Emilia had opened a book on etiquette, but she'd been stuck on the same page for fifteen minutes. "[gentle]……A noble must not expose their emotions in public."" She read it aloud, but the words wouldn't sink in. The Aristocratic Emotional Ordinance—the unwritten law that governed imperial noble society. Showing joy, anger, sorrow, or happiness in public was considered "the behavior of beasts," a custom spanning two centuries. (Last night, I nearly cried in the great hall. Was that... all right?) She remembered Alto saying quietly, "This is not a public place." That was—permission to cry. Clumsy and roundabout, but unmistakably kind. A knock sounded at the door. It was Sebastian. Black hair with red streaks mixed through it, longer than usual, swayed slightly in the hallway light. Mismatched eyes—black on one side, red on the other—regarded Emilia quietly. The mask hung from his chest. He didn't look seventeen. There was something ancient about him, like a quiet garden. "[gentle]I apologize for intruding." His voice was calm. But something was subtly different from usual. Not the perfect smile of the masked nobleman—something closer to his real face, tension still unresolved. "[gentle]Do you remember what you promised last night? That you would tell me your true feelings?" Emilia closed the etiquette book. A voice came from the hallway. "[serious]Miss, your schedule for this morning—" Silver-short hair appeared around the corner. Alto recognized Sebastian in the doorway and paused. Ice-blue eyes moved from Sebastian to Emilia, then back to Sebastian. "[serious]Miss, your schedule for this morning—" "[cold]Miss, your morning appointments—" Halfway through his third attempt, Emilia returned the etiquette book to the shelf. "[serious]I won't need you today, Alto." Alto's mouth stopped. …It was the first time, she thought. She'd refused his escort before. But she'd never said "I won't need you" while calling him by name so directly. This might have been the first time. Alto went still for one second. The silver piercing in his right ear caught the window light. "[cold]……Understood." His voice was composed. But his hand gripping the edge of the hallway pillar had gone slightly white. Emilia turned toward Sebastian. "[serious]……I'll listen in the rose garden." ──── The octagonal pavilion faced the morning Grao River. One hundred twenty-seven varieties of roses—collected over thirty years by Emilia's grandmother—bloomed in all directions. Rain from last night still clung to the petals, glimmering as it caught the morning light. Far off, a lighthouse stood thin against the thinning morning mist. Sebastian stood in the center of the pavilion, facing Emilia. "[gentle]Clan rivalry—when noble families compete for power and influence in imperial high society. I was raised in that world." His voice was quiet. No sharp tongue measuring distance like usual, no keen insight reading hearts. Just words falling like rain. "My smile was a weapon. My words were a mask. I was always reading who was ally and who was enemy. If I spoke the truth, I'd be used. If I showed my real face, it would become a weakness. So I decided to carry this mask with me." His gaze fell to the mask at his chest. Then he looked up. "[gentle]But when I look at you—" His mismatched eyes met hers directly. "You're clumsy, you fail, and yet you still try to be honest. Within all that formality, you genuinely try to show your true self. Seeing you like that, I thought for the first time: maybe I can show my real self too." A beat of silence. "[serious]Emilia. I love you." He said it completely. Something pulsed violently in Emilia's chest. Not from the confession itself—but because the words inside it overlapped with her own loneliness. She'd lived behind a mask within formality. She'd never been able to speak her true feelings to anyone. Because she knew that, those words pierced her. …Then. Behind the pavilion's pillar, someone was there. Silver-short hair. Servant's uniform. A body 182 centimeters tall, pressed flat against the pillar, stone-still. ────It was Alto. He'd probably positioned himself nearby for security purposes. But he'd clearly heard every word of the confession, and both his feet were frozen to the ground. His face was definitely whiter than before. (You said "Understood," didn't you…!) The moment Emilia started to say something. "[excited]I've brought a special dessert for the young miss! Aaaah!!" Thud-thud-thud-thud—a sound, and a white-haired head thrust through the pavilion entrance. It was Grimm Otto. Both hands cradling a tray, his warm brown eyes shining as he charged into the pavilion with full force. His 178-centimeter frame squeezed into the narrow space, literally pulverizing the air between the two of them into dust. On the tray sat three sky-blue mousses. Basically blue. Why. "[excited]Ohhh, this is the beginning of a romantic full course! As a chef, I'm honored to witness it!!" "[cold]……Chef, please read the room." A low voice came from behind the pillar. Alto slowly unfroze and stepped out, completely expressionless as he spoke. "[sarcastic]……I'm still waiting for the young miss's answer." Sebastian pointed out coldly. Then. "[scared]Is something wrong with the young miss?! Aaaah!!" Gustav burst into the pavilion with his sword half-drawn. The Weissring Guard Captain—the silver-white armband on his left arm caught the morning light. He'd apparently heard Otto's scream and judged it an emergency. Four people and one tray were crammed into the octagonal pavilion. A petrified butler. A chef holding dessert. A captain drawing his sword. A youth who'd just confessed. …What was this situation? ──── "[angry]Wait just a minute!!" Everyone reflexively straightened their spines. "[serious]I can't process all of this at once!!" It was the first time she'd raised her voice like that since the great hall. But this wasn't panic. It was her voice steadying herself—a breath, a pause. Otto started to say, "Young miss, which would you—" and stopped. Gustav stepped back, sheathing his sword. Alto pressed his lips together. Sebastian waited quietly. The pavilion fell silent. The morning air of the rose garden. The sound of the Grao River. A bird singing in the distance. Emilia closed her eyes and breathed in again. Then she looked at Sebastian. "[serious]Your feelings make me happy. Truly." Her voice didn't shake. "But right now, I don't understand my own feelings yet. I think being honest about that with you is the right thing to do." Sebastian was quiet for a moment. Then he laughed. Not the masked nobleman's smile. Something sadder, something relieved—his real face, seen for the first time. "[gentle]……I'll wait. Until you find your answer." Next, Emilia turned toward Alto. Alto froze for a moment. "[serious]I have things I want to ask you too. But not today." "[serious]Because I'm still in the middle of learning to be honest." Alto's eyes widened. He started to say something. His mouth opened, then closed. Seconds of silence. "[cold]……Your tea will get cold." That was all he said before he turned on his heel. His back—trembled, just slightly. "[serious]In culinary terms, this would be… still simmering, I'd say." No one answered. "[angry]Chef, return to the kitchen." Gustav pushed Otto out of the pavilion. The sky-blue mousse trembled on the tray. ──── The moment Emilia opened the doors to Zaal Lumière, she heard laughter. A hall with six-meter ceilings, twelve chandeliers lit. Eight portraits of past dukes looked down from all sides. Otto was preparing the midday meal, and servants were collecting plates and pouring tea. Emilia paused just outside the doors. (Half a year ago, I was alone here.) She remembered the night when twelve chandeliers had been lit for her alone. The night when all forty chairs were empty, when no one would meet her eyes. She stepped inside. "[excited]Welcome home, young miss!!" Otto noticed first and shouted. The servants turned one by one in response. "Welcome home" echoed in a chain. Margarethe, the head server—the one who'd never met Emilia's eyes—was looking directly at her now, smiling. Water welled up in Emilia's eyes. She hurried to wipe it with her sleeve. The reflex of the Aristocratic Emotional Ordinance activated, the armor of formality rising— "[whispers]……Young miss, this is the great hall. This is not a public place." A small voice came from right beside her. "[whispers]Just for now." Emilia looked at Alto. He stood at the wall in perfect servant's posture, but turned away—his ears were red. "[gentle]……You're annoying." Her voice trembled slightly. "[gentle]……Thank you." Alto replied only, "……Of course," still facing away. His ears remained red. Then Otto appeared with a beaming smile, offering a tray. "[excited]Please, enjoy! Today's special dessert is sky-blue mousse!!" The mousse on the plate was basically blue. Everyone at the table froze for a moment. "[serious]……Why is it blue, Chef?" "[excited]Because the azure sky has a broad heart!!" "[serious]Please stop putting philosophy into food." Laughter rose. Emilia laughed too, covering her mouth with her sleeve. ──── In the afternoon, a carriage door closed at the duke's estate gates. Gustav came to see him off, bowing politely. The carriage began moving across the stone pavement. The tree-lined avenue of the East District's noble residences flowed past the window. Sebastian sat deep in his seat, watching the scenery outside for a while. Then he reached into the hidden compartment behind the seat. An envelope emerged. No sender's seal on the wax. The message inside was brief. ——Is the plan to approach the Solvaredo ducal house proceeding smoothly? Await further instructions. Sebastian finished reading. The duke's estate roof receded in the distance. The edge of the garden where 127 varieties of roses grew disappeared from view. For just a moment, his expression—the masked nobleman's smile peeled away, and his face twisted in pain. Then it returned to its usual blankness. But his fingers gripping the letter had gone white. The carriage passed through the East District and entered the West District's commercial area. The bustle of Kaufgasse Boulevard flowed past the window. Sebastian watched that noise with eyes that seemed to be looking at something far away. ──── When Emilia returned to her room in the evening, an envelope lay on her desk. The seal bore the crest of Hofburg Palace. Hofburg Palace, the residence of Emperor Ludwig V of the Weltheim Empire. An invitation to a Debutante—the formal presentation of a noble lady to high society—the official notification of participation in the imperial palace's grand ballroom reception. The moment this invitation arrived, it meant the young lady had formally entered the "marriage market." Emilia picked up the envelope and stared at it for a while. Outside the window, the lighthouse on the Grao River began to glow orange. Evening mist drifted thinly over the river, and the lighthouse's light blurred and spread softly. This scenery she'd always seen. Half a year ago, she'd only thought: "I want to change." Now—the servants said "welcome home." There was a night when Alto said "just for now." There was a morning when Sebastian said "I love you." (B