Working at Harré, Part Three

“Ms. Zozo, I’m sorry for the inconvenience, but if it’s alright with you, I’m going to leave now.”

“No worries, I didn’t have plans for tonight after all. You did good work today. I’ll be the one who gives the report to Director Locktiss.”

Zozo’s letting me leave work a bit early today. I hadn’t asked her to do so, but I’d been happy to accept her offer when she’d made the suggestion. Once I’m outside, I head towards Duke Rockmann’s mansion with Lala.

“Gotten a little dark now, hasn’t it?”

“Lady Nanalie, please, ride on my back.”

“Thanks.”

I’m not going to use that magic circle. It’s not that I’m scared about failing again, but I can’t go around teleporting to places when I don’t know who, exactly, is at my destination. The Duke has asked me to come “in secret,” anyway, so instead of the teleportation spell, I cast the Coat of Many Colors over Lala and myself before we take off.

“Let’s fly west,” I say, and I feel butterflies fluttering in my stomach as we ascend further up into the cloudless sky. With the whole mess at the mansion that had happened earlier, I now know its general location.

Below the Royal Isle, on the west side.

Maris, I recall now, had gone on and on about how the Duke’s mansion was so “fancy” or “fabulous” back when we’d been in school together, but to be perfectly honest—no offense, Maris—I hadn’t the slightest fraction of a fragment of interest in what she’d been talking about, so it had been in one ear, out the other. It had all been information I hadn’t been interested in knowing, but when we’d exited the mansion to head back to Harré earlier today, I’d figured out, quite without meaning to, that the Isle floats to the east of the mansion grounds.

The mansion itself is huge. There’s a fountain and a flower garden maze in the courtyard, and it sprawls over so much ground, you’d think it was a small castle. When I’d seen the whole place from the outside, my jaw had literally dropped as I stared at the top of the building.

My house, on the other hand, wouldn’t even have filled up a fourth of the courtyard. The Rockmann mansion is clearly different from those of the other aristocrats. I hadn’t taken a close look at any others, but from what I could catch a glimpse of as I flew overhead, they certainly weren’t nearly as large. If several Rockmann mansions were built in the kingdom, there wouldn’t be even the tiniest sliver of land left over for us normal people to live on.

I don’t mean to be competitive about this, but surely his house doesn’t need to be this big.

The distance from Harré to the mansion isn’t that far. Walking it would take a long time, of course, but riding on a familiar as I am, we arrived relatively soon after departing.

“I hope it’s alright to land here,” I say, flying once around the perimeter of the grounds before landing in the rear gardens behind the mansion.

The rear gardens aren’t directly behind the mansion itself, as an iron enclosure and then a wooden fence still separate us from the building. I can see the mansion from far off, but the sense of alienation I feel right now is almost indescribable. Back home, the old lady who lives three houses away from us is still closer than I am now to the mansion proper. Just what kind of place is this?

There aren’t many people on the back side of the mansion; in fact, there’s nothing at all here. If I walk a little further away from the building I can see some other small houses in the distance, but between us is a wide green expanse, broken only by a single small gray road that stretches across the horizon from north to south.

“Lady Nanalie, are you really going to do what he asks you to? He is Sir Rockmann’s father, after all.”

“...Well, yeah, I am going to. Normally, you enter a place like that without permission, and you’d expect a massive public scolding, but he dismissed my trespass with a smile and requested just one small favor, so I don’t mind.”

“But my lady, the palace ball? ‘Sneak in’? It is all too suspicious.”

“You think so?”

The Duke had told me to come here, so Lala and I are having a little chat while we wait. Coming here was simple enough, but I haven’t been told a single thing about what I’m being expected to do next, so I’m a bit lost. Furthermore, the “back of the mansion” was too vague a location for me to know if I’m in the right spot or not. The bells for the Evening Star will be ringing at any moment, and he’s still not here.

I lean against Lala, who’s standing next to me. I rub my face against her soft, warm pelt, letting out a little sigh of happiness as I close my eyes. Don’t blame me if I fall asleep here on Lala after working all day. The sun is almost completely set by now, and I only have one eye cracked open as I keep a lookout for the Duke.

“We dealt with the demon earlier today, so surely you are weary, my lady?”

Lala looks at me and licks my face.

“Nah, I’m fine. It wasn’t that big a deal, anyway. I’m more worried about the client, Ms. Maria.”

“...Yes, I suppose her situation is concerning.”

“I like the fact that I can just lay here against you, take a little nap on your back, and close my eyes, but I don’t think Ms. Maria’s been sleeping at all recently. There were some dark circles under her eyes.”

She’d seemed weary not just physically, but emotionally.

“The demon—”

“Hello there. My apologies for keeping you waiting.”

A man’s subdued voice interrupts our conversation.

Before us, someone has just lifted their own Coat of Many Colors spell to reveal himself as the man who I’d exchanged a promise with earlier, Duke Rockmann.

“Du—!”

I scramble off Lala’s back and quickly stand to attention, giving him a bow in greeting. How horrible for him to have seen me like that. I’ll be thought of as not only “bad-mouthed,” but also as some slovenly girl who thinks it’s okay to just laze around other people’s backyards! I absolutely cannot leave him with any worse of an impression than I already have.

The Duke is wearing a tailcoat and holding an indigo staff, resting one end on the ground.

“I haven’t been waiting at all,” I say, shaking my head.

“All the better,” he says, smiling. “Come with me.” He leads me inside the gates to the mansion. I am surprised to see the fence disappear, then reappear behind us on the path to the mansion, but I force myself to remain calm and follow him.

The path leads straight to the mansion through the rear gardens. Can’t everyone see us walking here? Not sure there was any point in my “sneaking in.” Just who does he not want to know that I am here, anyway?

“Is this... alright?” I ask him.

“No one other than servants uses this entrance of the mansion, so we shan’t be seen here.”

So it’s alright if the servants see me?

“Um, will we be going inside the mansion?”

I am being led to some doors leading into the mansion. “Please, after you,” he says. I hesitate. Just what is going to happen to me...?

“Um, pardon the question, but when you said you ‘wanted to check something,’ to what, exactly, were you referring? What would you like me to do?”

I’m a little concerned as I wait for his reply.

“Yes, about that... Well, no one’s here right now, so this’ll do.”

I enter the mansion and find myself in a room where the floor is covered with a thick red carpet. But there are no beds, bookshelves, or tables in the room. Is that a large wardrobe? Other than that one piece of furniture, I see a mirror of about the same size hanging on the wall. It’s all a bit bleak. There are also three ladies dressed in what look to be blue servants’ uniforms. You said no one was here, but right before us stand three ladies, Your Highness.

What is this place? Do aristocrats spend their time in rooms like this? I can’t say I fancy their taste in furnishings, or lack thereof.

“The truth of the matter is that I’ve been ordered by the King to see that my son Alois and Princess Corolla the Fourth from the Kingdom of Sheera are bound together in matrimony.”

I stand there, stunned silent at the Duke’s words. The Duke closes the doors leading outside and we continue speaking.

“Matrimony?” I ask. “Is that true?”

Marrying a princess?

Oh, is that so? A princess?

“...Huh? Ma-Matrimony?!”

Marriage?

Who’s getting married? Him?

He’s marrying a princess?!

“That bastard, I mean, Sir Alois, is, oh no, what about Maris?!”

Maaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaris! It’s all over for Maris!

The boy Maris likes is getting married! No, don’t cry, Maris!

“Maris? Ah, you refer to the lovely lady from Marquess Caromines’ family. My son does seem to like her, but... we are a rather distant part of the royal family ourselves, so we cannot refuse an order like this from the King.”

The word “Maris” is jostling around inside my head as I stand here listening to the Duke. I couldn’t give a fig about what happens to him, but Maris had been positively glowing with excitement at the idea of having Rockmann marry into her family! I’ve stood by her and seen how she adores him. This will come as quite a shock.

Hold on a second. Did he just say, “distant part of the royal family?” What in the world does that mean? Huh? What exactly does that mean?

As if he can guess my thoughts, he nods and says, “Oh, I am actually the younger brother of the current King.” He makes no further explanation of that bombshell.

The King’s... younger brother?

Brother, as in, they have the same parents?

So the King is basically Rockmann’s uncle, and Rockmann is the King’s nephew, and the King’s child, Prince Zenon, is Rockmann’s cousin?

Which means that Duke Rockmann is a former prince?

Is this what Maris had been alluding to when she told me that I “must speak politely” to the Rockmann family?

Well, I suppose it makes sense now why he gets along so well with Prince Zenon.

But still, isn’t this all too much, too quickly, for me to properly take in?

The only thing I’ve ever studied has been magic. We never learned anything about the aristocracy back at school, and the only things I’d learned in the course of my daily life were the names of the King and his children.

But for the Duke to be telling something like this to someone like me, surely Maris and the other aristocrats are already aware of this, right?

“Is this common knowledge among the aristocrats?”

“No,” the Duke replies, shaking his head. “Only a very small number of people know about this. You, young lady, are now yourself one of those people.”

It doesn’t seem as if the Caromines family is aware of this information.

Wait, why wouldn’t Maris know?!

Why would I and only a few others know when she doesn’t? The whole affair is a total mystery for me.

“My son has agreed to the marriage, and it would appear Princess Carolla finds it an agreeable prospect as well.”

The Duke completely ignores me and my wide-open mouth and continues speaking.

“I married my wife out of love, you see. Even now, we are quite happy together.”

So both of them agree on the marriage. But does Rockmann really have any feelings for her?

If Maris finds out, she’ll go insane. I can just see it now: she discovers the truth, and from behind her rises a wall of flames to burn everything around her.

That reminds me—back in our fourth year at magic school, right before we went on vacation, hadn’t there been rumors of him being busy “meeting with a princess of a neighboring country?” I’d shrugged it off as a ridiculous rumor at the time, but Doran does border three other kingdoms: Naraguru, Vestanu, and Sheera.

That “princess of a neighboring country” must have been referring to this “Princess Corolla.”

If they’ve been involved with each other for this long, I can’t deny the possibility that they’ve been developing their love for each other in secret all the while.

“Perhaps it’s because I chose my wife out of love, but I... I just find it difficult to discern what, exactly, my son is feeling about this marriage he so quickly agreed to. He has met with the Princess several times, of course, but it’s all rather uncertain as to whether he’s grown to like her or not.”

The Duke has a somewhat gloomy expression on his face as he speaks.

Duke, Your Highness, please, do try to be a little more excited about your own son’s marriage.

“There is no end to the rumors about my son and his dalliances with other women, but in this case, I simply cannot rely on rumors. Should they be married, the Princess shall reside here in our mansion, and join our family.”

“Well, in that case... what do you want me to do?”

What is he trying to get at?

“The ball tonight is a masked ball. Princess Corolla shall be in attendance. I have made a certain wager with the King about tonight.”

“A wager?”

“I have consented to agree to this marriage full-heartedly if the two of them are able to find each other with masks on.”

A masked ball. I’ve heard a few stories about what they’re like, but I can’t picture what goes on at them. I’m sure that the “masked” part refers to people wearing masks to hide their faces, but why would someone go out of their way to have a ball, and then tell everyone to wear masks? Wouldn’t it be nicer to see everyone’s faces?

...There’s no way that they’re holding this ball for this one purpose, right?

King, Your Majesty, isn’t that going a little too far? Isn’t there some other way of figuring out their feelings for each other?

“The King has agreed to this wager, then?”

“The King thought up the match himself, believing he could unite the two kingdoms with this marriage. His eldest son Bill married Marquise Ludrique and gained control over her lands, and she herself is the second princess of the Naraguru royal family. That marriage was also carried out by royal decree, but they liked each other, so there was no issue at all. Once I pass away, I intend to leave the title of “Duke” to Bill. Alois will receive another Marquess title, a special one allowed to him alone by the King himself, and following his marriage, shall live on the lands granted to him by the title. The King has said that Alois can refuse the marriage if he likes, anyway.”

“...? Even though it is a royal decree?”

“The proposal came from her side, not ours. It’s not something that Alois chose to do of his own accord. Tying together royal families from different kingdoms is, of course, an important endeavor, but even the King himself tells me that our personal, private desires as his subjects come first. Even after he was told all that, however, Alois didn’t have so much as a second thought about the proposal and agreed to it without hesitation. I find that a little odd.”

“So... what do you want me to do?”

This is the third time that I’ve asked that question.

I’d really like an answer.

“I want you to join the ball, speak with my son, and discover his true feelings on the matter.”

“...Excuse me?”

His son’s true feelings?

Join the ball, and interrogate Rockmann to figure out if he likes the Princess or not?

I know it’s rude of me to do so, especially to a duke, but I can’t help but look at the man speaking to me with a scornful glare.

He’s been speaking quite seriously to me all this time, so I’d rather not say this, but...

“Um, please excuse my rudeness, but I am absolutely sure that I will not be able to discover his ‘true feelings’ about the Princess.”

“No, I think you’re quite mistaken about that.”

Huh? Where’s all that confidence of his coming from?

“No, Your Highness, I’m telling you, it would be completely futile of me to ask him about this.”

“I told you that you were the right person for this job, didn’t I?”

“You know, I’d actually like to ask you why you think I could pull this off.”

“A reasonable question. I suppose the answer is that ‘you were able to get into this mansion.’”

What in the world does he mean by that?

And with those final words from the Duke, he calls over the three servants that have been standing in the corner of the room, and turns me over to them. He walks past me, gives me a light pat on the back, and says, “I’m counting on you.” Counting on me? For what?

But it seems that he had been talking to the servants right then, because they all immediately respond with “Yes, Master,” and each grab a different part of my body. By the hands on my shoulders, arms, and hips, I am dragged before the mirror hanging on the wall.

“Young lady, you are such a beauty.”

“Goodness me! Just look at your beautiful sky-blue hair.”

“How adorable you are indeed, Your Ladyship!”

“Wha—”

While all the servant ladies around me are showering me with compliments, I feel my clothes being pulled this way and that off my body.

The sudden sensation of being disrobed puts me on my guard, and I cling tight to the sleeves and hem of my uniform.

“I am not ‘Your Ladyship!’ What’re you trying to pull here?!”

No matter how I resist, my clothes are yanked off me piece by piece, until at some point I notice that even my shoes are missing.

I attempt to find the Duke to protest against this sudden turn of events, but he is nowhere to be found.

Just where did he go, that two-faced gentleman?

“His Highness has told us that we are to transform Your Ladyship into the most lovely woman at the ball tonight, so we are merely carrying out his wishes.”

“Excuse me?”

“Oh my, shan’t you be attending the ball at the palace tonight?”

“Shan’t you be attending?”

At what point did I agree to all of this?

“But I am just a commoner, you know? Do you really think I can go to the ball so easily? Even if I were to say to the guards that I was there under orders from the King’s brother.”

“Oh no, the King himself is quite aware as well, I’m sure.”

“What?”

One of the servants, at that exact moment, casually lets that slip out the instant she strips me of my underwear.

I’m not about to start making a fuss about being undressed at this point. I’ve already gotten the feeling that it would be pointless to resist, anyway.

But if the King himself knows about this, it’s rather overwhelming to think that I’m actually a part of this scheme. I’d very much prefer not to involve myself with the royal family. The possibility of me doing something to embarrass myself is that much higher.

How and why am I in this situation?

I’d worked so hard to become a receptionist at Harré. If I have enough spare time to be doing something like this, I’d much rather be gathering more information for Ms. Maria to help find her husband as soon as possible.

“That’s why, Your Ladyship, there is no need to worry.”

I told you, don’t call me “Your Ladyship.”

As a result of the quick and careful handiwork of the three servant women moving around me, I am, entirely against my will, totally and utterly transformed.

Before I know it, I have been suddenly changed into a pure white dress by three of his—the Duke’s—subordinates, or should I say, servants, and I am now being made to ride in a carriage drawn by silver horses, flying directly for the Royal Isle. I haven’t been back here since graduation, and while six months isn’t that long, what with the situation I’m in and the white dress I’m wearing that’s as heavy as lead, I am excited to be coming back to the Isle. The Isle below us looks as pretty as ever, and while it looks nice whenever I ride here on Lala’s back, it somehow looks even more magical from the window of a flying horse-drawn carriage.

When the castle comes into view, however, my excitement instantly disappears, to be replaced by a heavier emotion. This is depressing. I’m being punished, aren’t I? Please, make a right turn here, or tell me to jump out of the carriage into the sky, or anything else, really, to get me out of this situation, now. I wonder if this is what cattle feels like when it’s being shipped around from place to place on those cargo wagons?

I lean my chin on my hands and let out a big sigh. The Duke looks over at me, sees my worried expression, and attempts to calm me down.

“There’ll be no trouble if you enter the castle with me. They’ll probably have a security check where they look at you and your magic type, but it’ll be over in no time.”

He commands the horses to stop, and there, right in front of the palace’s massive gates, the carriage comes to a stop.

Wow! They’re just as large as I imagined. I’d been pressing my face up against the carriage windows until just a moment ago, but I hadn’t been able to see the top of the white palace where Prince Zenon lived, concealed as it had been by the clouds. This is my first time seeing the castle up close, and I’m rather impressed. The dress and my heart both feel a good deal lighter at the sight. Thanks, palace. Those pure white walls aren’t just for show, are they?

I wonder if Prince Zenon himself will be joining the dances at the ball tonight. Even if he is there, however, I can’t simply go up and start chatting with him, third in line to the throne and all that he is as prince.

“Oh my, you’re here too?”

“Tonight looks like it’s going to be fun. I had this made especially for the ball, you know.”

“Gaze upon this great mask of mine, will you? Suits me well.”

We arrive in front of the castle, and the area is practically overflowing with people already wearing their masks. Among the people ascending the steps to the castle, I see some who have dyed their hair green or purple, possibly just for the ball tonight. Everyone’s masks look different, with some transparent (can those really be called masks?), some with cat ears, some positively fluffy—adorned as they are with bird feathers—to others decorated with flowers, to yet even others covering only a single eye, all having unique shapes and colors.

Among those are masks so extreme, they might be better called “costumes.” Here and there, I can see that some have transformed their heads into those of birds, pigs, and other animals, wearing not mere masks but full-on costumes.

Everyone seems to be avoiding getting near any of those individuals. They took the whole “mask” thing a bit too far, no?

But then again, everyone here looks weird. I’d prefer to be as far away from them as possible. To think that all of these people around me are aristocrats... It makes one rather concerned when considering the future of this country.

I use the mirror inside the carriage to check my appearance once again. Maybe I look weird as well?

I’ve pulled back my long, dark brown hair to make room for the golden butterfly mask that covers almost my entire face. My white dress is sparingly decorated with lace, and I am, of course, wearing high-heeled glass slippers.

It’s been a long time since my hair’s been this color. While that blue is a nice reminder of the time when I found out my magic type, I do feel most at ease going about in public with this dark brown instead.

Putting aside all that, there’s something I need to ask the Duke.

“Don’t you think that your son will find it rather suspicious to have some complete stranger come up to him and ask him all about his true feelings concerning the women in his life?”

“The masked ball is an event held for the very purpose of concealing one’s identity. You are meant to become someone else under the mask, and reveal your true self to your partner only by dancing with them.”

The Duke intends to use this facade of a masked ball for me to “find [his] son, and inquire as to whether he truly has any women close to his heart.” No matter how you look at him, he’s clearly going overboard for his son. Completely overboard. He’s beside himself with worry about the romantic affairs of his son.

Personally I wouldn’t mind if that questioning was all I had to do, but I have to find Rockmann in this crowd first. Anyhow, just imagine it: some woman he doesn’t know sidles up to him and asks, “Is there someone you hold dear to your heart, my good sir?” He’s obviously just going to dodge the question with some half-hearted answer that reveals nothing.

Well, I suppose that even if it isn’t just “some woman,” even if he knows it is me, I don’t suppose he’d tell me how he truly feels, anyway.

My whole face is covered with a mask, and my hair is now dark brown. As long as I don’t take my mask off, nobody is going to have any idea who I am. I’ve thought this a million times already, but do I have to be the one doing this? Surely anyone could pull off this little scheme, right?

Then there’s the Duke, sitting next to me, wearing his mask.

Sir Duke, pardon me for saying so, but all you did was put on a very simple mask. It’s just a little silver thing that barely covers the upper half of your face. The rest of you, clothes included, is absolutely unchanged. You might as well not be hiding anything. I can still see your beard!

Your mask is a joke. Just what do you think it’s hiding? Are you even trying to hide anything? Take a look at those people going all out with their costumes, Duke, Your Highness, and try to learn a thing or two. Let’s try being more like them.

As all this is going through my mind, the Duke takes my hand, and I am led down from the carriage.

“We have been expecting you, Duke Rockmann.”

Upon hearing those words, all of the aristocrats around us instantly draw near the Duke, who’s just come down from the carriage himself. To think that they were able to discover his identity beneath that mask in just a few seconds! Can’t really say that mask is doing its job, can you?

“Sir Michael, is your lady wife already inside the palace?”

“Yes, she’s quite close with the royal family, you know. She went flying off to the palace by herself before I could manage to get out the door.”

“Lord Rockmann, fix thy gaze upon my magnificent mask. Is it not suitable? Suitable, yes?”

“Suitable indeed, Marquess Matarda.”

However.

A large number of people have come over to speak to the Duke, likely out of admiration for his person or because they idolize his status in the aristocracy. No one, of course, has the courtesy to remove their masks when speaking to him. Even some of those people with animal heads for “masks” have come over to speak to him. I’d doubted that he’d be able to differentiate all these people under their masks, but he speaks to them as if he knows the identity of each and every one of them. Amazing, Duke. At this point, everyone simply looks like a demon to me.

One of his admirers, a man, glances down at me and asks the Duke, “Who might this woman be?”

I have no idea how to answer his question, so I remain silent, but when the Duke says, “She’s a distant relative of my wife’s, the daughter of a count,” I nod along in affirmation. All within earshot seem persuaded by this explanation, and the Duke leads me forward and upward into the castle. His wife does seem to actually have a number of relatives with daughters my age, so all of the ladies and gentlemen walking around us continue to pelt us with questions, like “Did the young lady come alone today?” and “Are your parents doing well?” and so on and so forth. I, who have no idea as to the real answers to these questions, respond as vaguely as I can to a few, while the Duke answers the rest. Together, we somehow manage to fool them all.

I’m not the one who should be saying this, given the circumstances, but really, people, should you be so trusting of the Duke? Shouldn’t you find something rather suspicious about his responses? Why in the world do all of you just accept whatever he tells you?

It was nice that we had fooled them, but now Duke Rockmann seems like even more of a frightening person to me. He’s clearly someone comfortable deceiving those around him with ease, as if he’s almost never been caught in a lie. Surely he hasn’t hypnotized them all, right? Maybe I myself have been hypnotized...?

Just as a test, I quietly whisper the incantation for the spell that lifts hypnosis. Nothing’s changed. Is that a good thing, or a bad thing?

We enter the palace. Somewhere inside a band must be playing, because now I can hear music.

It’s an entirely different atmosphere from that graduation party we had at school months ago. I feel like I am well and truly stepping onto a ballroom dance floor here. It’s not like the graduation party was a half-hearted attempt at an event, either; it just seems that here, now, I’ve trespassed into some terribly elite environment. It’s not just the other people at the castle, but also the man next to me who gives me this feeling.

“Your invitation, please. We also make a humble request that you show us your Certificate of Rank.”

Before we enter the Great Hall-like part of the palace, we are made to go through a perfunctory security check. The main thing being “checked” here, however, is merely what people look like under their masks, magical or otherwise, so that the Knights serving as security guards for the event can have a good look at the faces of the attendees. If they make me do that, though, everyone will see quite quickly that I am not the “daughter of some distant relative.”

The Knight who sees my real face, however, merely lets out an “oho” of admiration, gives me a bow, and lets me pass without a word.

...To think it’s that easy to get into the Royal Ball!

From there, of course, we still have to show them our Certificates of Rank, but at some point the Duke must have made one up for me, because he says, all perfectly naturally, “Here’s the young lady’s certificate,” to the Knight whom he offers a piece of paper. Where did he pull that from? I stare at him, completely silent, but all he does is give me a wink and a grin.

Like father, like son. The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree, that’s for sure.

Now, finally, we arrive at the location of the main event: the Great Hall of the Royal Castle.

All the masks glitter and sparkle under the light of the chandeliers in the hall. On the walls are engravings of the Goddess and her angels, and on the ceiling, mirrors reflect back images of the dancers below them. I can see the top of the Duke’s head next to me very clearly.

Now then, let’s see, is your hair getting a little thin up top, my dear Duke...? Well, what would you know, as far as I can see, you don’t seem to be going bald quite yet. His hair looks a great deal fuller and healthier than my father’s. He’s still got enough hair to have visible cowlicks.

I feel a sort of jealousy. I’d like to take some of that hair and give it to my father.

Unexpectedly, I see the Duke himself look up, and our eyes meet in the reflection.

Shoot. He caught me looking.

“Ah-ahh, that’s right, I was just wondering, Duke, where your lady wife might be?”

“You mean Leena? She got here a while ago. I’m sure she’s having tea with Her Majesty the Queen right this very moment.”

“With Her Majesty...?”

At this point, I can’t even act starstruck anymore without it seeming tired.

“I’ve just remembered—young lady, perhaps it’s a bit late to be asking this, but can you dance?”

“Well, I can do the waltz, more or less...”

I’m having a flashback to when Maris forced me to learn how to dance:

“You must fix your posture! AH! You sighed at me just now, didn’t you?!”

“I’m tired!”

“You, who manage to be so fearfully diligent in your academic studies, shall not be permitted to complain in the slightest at a little dancing practice!”

I let out a nervous laugh as those memories from my school days spin through my mind. Memories of being slapped on my legs and back while being forced to dance, crying all the while. Fortunately, we’d only practiced inside my dorm room, so at least Rockmann hadn’t had a chance to see me look pathetic.

“In that case,” the Duke says, bringing me back to the present, “perhaps you should avoid dancing at first. The early dances involve some rather complicated step patterns, so I’d recommend not joining in.”

It had seemed quite obvious to me that at a dance, one would dance. I had forgotten, of course, that the point of a ball wasn’t exactly to dance so much as it was an excuse to socialize. I feel grateful to the Duke for reminding me of that.

Stop right there. Why do I, someone who aspired to be a receptionist lady, need to know more about balls and other events like this? Normal people don’t need to know this sort of stuff, do they?

“I don’t know what type of mask Alois is wearing, but take a good look around, would you?”

Both Rockmann and the foreign princess have apparently been informed of the pageantry they need to go through tonight of finding each other in the crowd, and have also been told to wear “as concealing a mask as possible” to make it difficult for them to identify, or so the Duke tells me.

And the Duke simply expects me to find Rockmann in this crowd, despite the fact that he is intentionally wearing an extremely deceptive mask? How does he expect me to pull this off?

A ball is, primarily, an event where men and women dance with one another. But there is also the element of matchmaking involved, whereby young men and women of the aristocracy have a chance to meet and assess each other as a potential partner in marriage. Maris had told me that the young ladies who made their social debuts at such events would go to great lengths to look their absolute best in the fanciest of dresses in order to find their future husbands.

Tonight’s ball, then, for Rockmann and the Princess, at least, is the final stage for them in the matchmaking process—the last step of their courtship.

“There’s a buffet set up over there—no chairs to sit down in, but if you’re hungry, it wouldn’t hurt to go over and grab a bite to eat.”

A buffet!

In the direction that the Duke points, I see that there is indeed a wide variety of food arrayed on buffet tables. The instant I smell that sweet, sweet aroma of delicious food, I can think of nothing else. I’d thought there to be no possibility of finding something to eat, but there it is, delicious, beautiful food! My stomach, calm and quiet until a moment ago, threatens to begin growling again. Look at the colors of those desserts! And those glistening cuts of meat! The dishes over there are, without a doubt, the finest foods the kingdom has to offer. It’s food being served inside the King’s castle itself, after all!

“Alright then, enjoy yourself,” says the Duke as he watches me leave him for the food, and then turns away to join a nearby circle of aristocrats deep in discussion.

“Enjoy yourself.” Seriously, as if I could do that in a place like this.

I’m a bit frightened at suddenly being left to my own devices, but my body is telling me that I must satisfy my hunger immediately, so I heed my gut instinct and proceed directly to the food tables at the edge of the hall.

In the vicinity of the food stand only two people, who appear to be chefs. Neither they nor anyone else nearby is wearing a mask, which means not a single aristocrat is eating this food. Why not? It looks positively delicious, it’d be a shame not to have some!

I take a plate, fill it with meat and vegetables, and begin gobbling it all down, bite by bite.

“Yum, this is fantastic.”

The mask covering my face is a nuisance, but I’m rather dextrous as I manage to put the food in my mouth quickly and without making a mess.

Now then, I suppose I ought to find out where Rockmann’s hiding, under his mask.

I lift my fork with one hand and slowly point it around the hall, from one end to the other.

I can’t simply use whatever magic I want here, unfortunately. The Knights on guard duty seem like they would kick me out the front door without a second thought if I start casting something conspicuous. They don’t seem to mind those people who’ve taken to transforming their heads or, like myself, those who are using magic to change their hair color, but I’m fairly certain it would be absolutely taboo for me to start flying around the room casting spells hither and thither as I searched for Rockmann.

I suppose the only thing to do is to try to find him based on his height. Within mere moments of beginning to search that way, however, I quickly realize that there are a lot of men here just as tall as Rockmann, and all seem to give off the totally wrong impression, like the one with a bird head, or the pigheaded gentleman.

As you’d expect, all of the men wearing more normal masks are receiving quite a bit more attention from the women... No surprise there. I’d be too scared to approach one of those animal-heads.

The Duke had told me to search for Rockmann. How exactly am I...?

“Sir Al, that’s such a lovely mask you have on there.”

“Yours matches you nicely as well.”

“Let’s enjoy tonight, shall we?”

“Why, it’s my first time at a ball, so please, be gentle with me.”

I’ve heard that voice before. It’s not one I’m particularly fond of.

“Sir Al”?

“You look stunning even with a mask on.”

This turned out to be easier than I’d expected.

He’s been right behind me this whole time.

I whirl around to look, and there stands Rockmann, surrounded by several women. He’s wearing a mask identical to the Duke’s in almost every way except the color—the Duke’s wearing a silver mask, and his is black. It barely conceals just half of his face.

His hair looks the same as it did earlier today, drawn back behind his head and bound together in a loose ponytail. Rockmann’s just being Rockmann, really—he looks the same, hitting on girls in the same way that he always does. All that’s different is that meaningless little mask.

Anyone would know that it’s him from the way that he’s acting.

“Ring ring! Hello, Mr. Duke, sir? Your son isn’t acting at all like you told him to!”

Ladies continue to gather around the guy that is clearly Rockmann, Princess Carolla among them. The Duke showed me a portrait of the Princess just a few moments ago, so I’m able to pick her out of the crowd instantly. Her hair is the same gold as Rockmann’s, and it’s curled into ringlets. Her skin is so pale it looks as though it’s never seen the sun. Her shoulders, dainty as can be, look small in their proximity to her large breasts. Mine certainly aren’t that plump.

The instant I see her, I feel as though my posture corrects itself in reaction. Must be just my imagination. No way that I’m trying to look good next to her. I’m not making myself look pretty at all, no siree.

But hold on a second. Hadn’t the Duke said, “if they find one another?”

If I’m remembering that correctly, then that means the two of them have already finalized their engagement. That must have been the easiest game of “hide-and-seek” ever. Even though they’d both apparently been told to wear masks that would make them difficult to find, in the end they’d both selected masks that made it quite obvious who they were. It’s all rather meaningless, no?

Interpreted differently, however, the fact that they both chose such simple masks might mean that they actually like each other.

“Sir Alois, it has been too long.”

“Maris, good to see you here too. How’ve you been?”

“Oh, very well, as you can clearly see.”

That caramel-colored hair, that crimson dress. I’ve seen those before.

It’s Miss Maris.

As always, she’s inside the circle of girls surrounding Rockmann. I want to call out to her, and it’s quite frustrating that I’m unable to in my current circumstances. She’s the number one person I want to tell about what’s going on right now. She’s also the number one closest girl standing next to Rockmann at the moment.

Maris, standing right next to you is the woman who is trying to steal away the man you love!

“Sir Aristo, it’s been a while.”

“Rudel’s boy, is it not?”

“Yes sir, I’m Teddy.”

I, who have been looking over at Maris, trying in vain to reach her with my nonexistent telepathic skills, hear a name that piques my interest.

Huh? Did I just hear the name “Aristo?” That couldn’t be Doctor Aristo, could it?

“Your research—”

“Ah, my boy, about that—”

I clear my mind and listen carefully to the voices around me, searching for the source of that conversation. There. It’s coming from somewhere to my right.

I look in that direction with a sidelong gaze, whereupon I see a somewhat heavyset man with a white beard and green mask that covers only one eye speaking to a tall woman with brown hair, wearing an ash-gray dress. They’re both holding glasses of something in one hand as they speak to each other. It had been her voice that had said the name “Aristo,” so clearly she had been referring to the man speaking with her now.

I’ve seen Doctor Aristo before. He came to the school once as a special lecturer. It had been right after he’d published that paper regarding the formerly human demon, so during my sixth year. His plump belly had made an impression on me then, so unless he had lost a great deal of weight, enough to be unrecognizable, the man I am looking at is, without a doubt, Doctor Aristo, his belly sticking out just that much farther every time he takes a breath.

But why would the Doctor be at an event like this? I suppose he is part of the aristocracy, and a count at that, but still. Perhaps that is reason enough for him to be at this ball. He certainly has more reason to be here than I do.

While I’m focused on the two of them and their conversation, someone taps my shoulder.

What do you want? I’m a little busy now, get lost, would you? I turn to see that standing next to me is that gentleman (if you could call him that) who’s used magic to make himself pig-headed. I blink, several times, until I feel my shoulders suddenly rise in alarmed disgust. It’s not every day that some pig-headed person touches your shoulders, fortunately.

Oh, but wait, he’s holding a plate, isn’t he? Well then, he’s just like me. Another eater.

“Yes?” I ask the fellow, wondering whatever might be the reason he tapped me. He hasn’t tried speaking to me at all in the intervening moments, only stared at me with those round little pig eyes. His head looks exactly like the real animal. There’s even soft peach fuzz on his cheeks.

For a while, neither of us move in the slightest, our eyes locked together. The entire time we are staring at each other, I can hear the beautiful sounds of the dance music, and the not-so-beautiful sounds of conversation between Rockmann and his hangers-on.

What in the world is this guy about? Just because he’s got on a pig costume (mask?) doesn’t mean that he gets to be silent the whole time. Surely he can still speak.

WAIT! Did he just take that last plate of bunny-bird I was about to have...?!

“Oh my dear Golden Butterfly,” he says, “are you fond of this bunny-bird?”

I, who’d been lost in my selfish thoughts about food, suddenly realize that he’s finally spoken to me. He has a rather nice voice.

The Pigheaded Gentleman points at the plate I’m holding.

“Dear Golden Butterfly?” Is he referring to me?

“Sir, Your Pigship, I am only just a receptionist at Harré... and still an apprentice, at that. My name is Nanalie Hel. I am neither golden, a butterfly, nor a noble.”

Of course, I can’t actually say those words out loud, but I do feel a little uncomfortable at him calling me his “dear butterfly.”

“Pardon?”

“You have been eating bunny-bird, and only bunny-bird, for quite some time, so I thought you might be fond of it, that is all.”

“Oh, well, yes. I like it. Quite a lot.”

“Just as I assumed. I rather like it as well; very delicious, isn’t it?”

While I had been wondering what he was about, he must have been wondering what I was about, gobbling up all the meat on the table. I’d been conspicuous enough for him to have the urge to speak to me.

“It’s the first time I’ve ever seen someone eat meat like that at a ball,” he says, “I was rather surprised.”

“Oh, really? Don’t people normally eat it? It’s so delicious, and the other food is mouthwatering as well. Be a shame not to eat it.”

The whole time that I’d been eating, smiling to myself in pleasure at the deliciousness of the bunny-bird meat, the two chefs had been offering me other dishes, other recommendations for me to feast on. I’d turned them down, of course. Have I really been eating that much?

I unconsciously glance down at my plate. The meat that had been there just moments ago has disappeared, and the instant I come to this realization, I feel the last mouthful of meat go down my throat as I swallow. How did it all go so quickly?

Perhaps I did eat too much.

Just as I have that thought, the atmosphere in the room becomes noticeably more lively.

I look round and round, trying to find the reason for all the commotion. The Pigheaded Gentleman informs me that the king is about to give his evening address.

“Quiet.”

At the very top of the white stairs leading up from the floor of the hall sits a golden throne. His Majesty, the King of Doran, rises from his throne to look down at us, his subjects. So that’s Prince Zenon’s father.

Prince Zenon had inherited the dark gloss of his hair, but the King also has a beard and stature suitable to that of a King. Over his black military garb he wears a red cape, looking as regal as the King of Kings himself. I’d been worried about the kingdom’s future with these masked aristocrats in control, but with people like the King and Prince Zenon in charge, perhaps there isn’t actually that much to worry about.

“Tonight, whilst concealed as you all are, be free of the bonds and fetters of your rank and identity.”

As the King’s words echo around the room, the sound of the music, which had been only in the background until that point, suddenly swells to fill the room. A wide space is created at the center of the Great Hall’s dance floor, and, one by one or two by two, couples of masked men and women step into the space and begin dancing.

As the Duke had said, the footwork is complex, and all done while holding the hands of your partner and maintaining eye contact. With a quick step to the right, a glide to the left, a shift backwards, a sudden jump and a twist from there, up into the air... they are dancing.

So people do actually dance like that.

Now then, back to what I was doing... I put a different dessert on my plate and begin to nibble on that while watching the dancers. The chef standing at the table next to mine offers me yet another dish once I’ve finished the dessert. “Good chef, you are so kind. It is all absolutely delicious. Don’t suppose I could take some home now, could I?”

The Pigheaded Gentleman is still standing next to me. There’s still food on his plate. Is he not going to eat that?

Anyway, enough about him... I turn back to look over at him and the Princess, both of whom are the real reasons why I’m here.

Alois Rockmann. Still hasn’t taken his mask off, still surrounded by noble ladies. Should one of the ladies invite him to dance, another will cling to his arm. Maris, somehow, is undaunted by all the competition. Perhaps they feel free to be as indiscreet as they like with their affection, covered by masks as they are. At any other time, I feel like Maris would be calling her own behavior “improper” or even “vulgar,” but there she is, right next to him.

The Princess is also close by. Do the other ladies know that she’s the Princess?

How am I supposed to get close to him with that crowd?

According to the Duke, at the end of the last song—at the end of the last dance, in other words—their engagement would become official. The last dance seemed like something special for everyone, not just them, as if there were some unspoken rule that all lovers—married, engaged, or otherwise—danced together at the end.

If one wanted to be able to dance with their partner, however, they first needed to find them.

“Doctor Aristo—pardon me, Count Huey. It is good to see you. It is I, Fodeuri, under this mask.”

“Oho, well if it isn’t Marquess Fodeuri. Good sir, with a mask like that, I hadn’t the foggiest who you might’ve been.”

Right next to me, as I’m stuffing my mouth with one last big bite of dessert, Doctor Aristo, of all people, begins speaking to the Pigheaded Gentleman.

“Bu—geh?”

I almost spit out my dessert, but somehow manage to stop myself.

Wait just one moment, wait now, this is all happening too quickly. My attention’s being pulled every which way and I simply can’t miss any of it! Ugh. If only there were two of me, it’d be so much easier to listen to both of these conversations! ...I should learn a cloning spell sometime soon. It’d definitely be worth the effort.

“It’s a bit unusual to find you alone at an event like this.”

“Well with this mask, it’s all quite understandable, Count. Further, I have just been speaking with this woman here, so I’m not alone at all.”

I quickly place the plate back on the table, and just as I set it down, the Pigheaded Gentleman takes my hand in his own. Would you kindly refrain from using me as cover for the fact that you are indubitably here alone? Coming alone to a dance isn’t that big of a deal anyway, don’t be shy. I’m here alone myself so I don’t mind.

“With this lady, you say?”

Doctor Aristo sizes me up.

“Um, well...”

This is as good a chance as I’m ever going to get.

I casually slip my hand from the grasp of the Pigheaded Gentleman, turn back to properly face Doctor Aristo, and give him a small bow.

“Pardon me, sir, but would you happen to be the Doctor Aristo who conducts demon research?”

“Yes, I am he, despite how my appearance tonight may indicate otherwise.”

The way he laughs perfectly matches his look as a kindly, portly older gentleman.

Interested as I am in him and his work, I have given into the temptation to ignore Rockmann and his onlookers so that I can have a conversation with the Doctor.

“You admit your name freely, Doctor?”

“I had no intention of hiding who I am in the first place. This mask only covers one eye, after all. I’m sure anyone who sees me recognizes me. For me to play games about who I am would be a little strange, don’t you agree? You, however, my good lady—who are you meant to be tonight? Someone different than your usual self?”

“Um, yes, embarrassing as it is.”

“Well now, whatever am I to refer to you as? Marquess Fodeuri, in what manner do you call her?”

“She is my dear Golden Butterfly—or rather, she has allowed me to refer to her as such.”

“Then I shall call her the same.”

My nickname’s been decided, entirely without my input.

What is this elitist toying that they’re putting me through? It’s extremely embarrassing. I am very glad to be wearing a mask. I bet my face is beet red right now.

If we’re using nicknames, how should I refer to the Pigheaded Gentleman to my left? Something short and sweet, embarrassingly so...

Perhaps I should just call him Fodeuri instead, since that’s how he introduced himself...

Hold on. I can’t spend the whole night devoting my attention to these two! I must admit, though, I’m so excited to be speaking to the Doctor that I feel like jumping for joy. I might even be able to pull off that complicated-looking dance.

“As for me, do call me ‘Count Huey,’ if you please.”

As I am internally panicking at missing my chance to speak to Rockmann, Doctor Aristo, or should I say, Count Huey, adjusts his mask as he reintroduces himself, sticking his hand out.

The aristocrats have so many names, it’s almost impossible to remember them all. I, blessed as I am with a good memory, don’t find it too difficult, but I’m sure others struggle.

I stretch out my own hand to shake his, but what happens is not a handshake, but him taking my hand and kissing the back of it.

Nobles!

“I was just speaking with Marquess Fodeuri about some new research of mine. He’s offered me his perspective on some particular issues I’m facing. He’s generous enough to come by the lab after he gets off work every now and then.”

So this Pigheaded Gentleman does research too?

After the Doctor lets go of my hand, I look, very closely, at the person next to him.

“Um, might you permit me to ask just one question?”

“What’s on your mind?”

“It’s about your theory that you published last year—do you think that there’s a possibility that other humans have become demons as well?”

I can’t say anything about the work I’m doing at Harré or about myself, really, so I try to edge towards the subject without letting him infer too much about my identity. He’s the person actually doing the research on demons, so he should be quite a bit more knowledgeable on the subject than all those other people who’ve only read his theories. It must be fate that we met here. I’ll ask him as much as I can without arousing suspicion.

“Well that’s the question now, isn’t it? It would be absolute backbreaking work to go around capturing every demon in the kingdom, dissecting each and every body, to determine if there are others, and if so, how many. At the moment, I haven’t taken a look at any other demons besides the one I discuss in the paper.”

“Is that so...”

“Does Miss Golden Butterfly have an interest in these sorts of topics?”

“Well, yes. It’s interesting to think about how demons are created, and further, if we do not uncover what kind of creatures they really are, we will never be able to develop the means to defeat them.”

I catch myself, clap one hand over my mouth, and let out a sort of nervous giggle.

Perhaps it’s not such a good idea to pretend to be a noblewoman with such a deep interest in this subject. Still, I think I’m pulling off this charade rather convincingly, papier-mâché aristocrat that I am.

Even so, I shouldn’t be asking him these sorts of questions. He’ll doubt my identity as a noble.

“If that’s the case,” he says, “why don’t you come around my mansion sometime soon to discuss the issue further?”

All my worrying is for naught. I have completely convinced this guy that I am one of the nobles. I’m better at acting than I thought.

“Not many people find my research the topic of polite discussion, you know. I’m actually criticized for it rather frequently.”

“Why would that be? It’s thanks to you and your helpful research on the demons that we know more about them.”

“Some people share your point of view,” the Pigheaded Gentleman says, placing his plate on the table and taking up a glass in one hand. “But an equal number of people would disagree with that statement.”

“I knew what I was getting into when I began this research, so you won’t find me complaining about the opinions of others. As long as there are individuals like you, Miss Butterfly, that is enough for me. I’m always in the lab inside the mansion, so please, do visit me whenever it is convenient for you. I shall see to it that the guards shall happily open the gates for any woman who introduces herself as ‘Miss Golden Butterfly.’”

The Doctor smiles and pats his belly as he says so. He goes on to inform me of the location of his mansion, the name of his gardener, and all manner of details necessary for me to find him.

Count, surely this isn’t the time to be laughing? Why would you be sharing all of this information with some masked little girl, whose identity you know nothing about? I’m quite happy to take you up on the invite, even though you may be offering out of mere politeness, but surely it would do you some good to be a little more guarded about where you live? Duke Rockmann was just the same. I fear that someday, somehow, the two of you will be deceived by someone with intentions not nearly as innocent as my own.

As I am lost in my thoughts, I realize that I have completely forgotten the reason why I am here.

While we’ve been standing here, discussing demons (of all things), the music has turned into a series of light, cheerful, relaxed songs being played in the background.

“...Oh no!”

I suddenly recall tonight’s mission.

“My dear Butterfly, what is the matter?”

The matter is that I’ve lost it, completely. Perhaps I am just as much of an idiot as Rockmann always said I was.

“How long until the ball is over?”

“I believe it’s planned to last until—”

“Ladies and gentlemen, this next song will be the final waltz of the night. Please find a partner worthy of making a memory with on this fine evening.”

The last dance!

I can’t just stand here and continue watching Rockmann from the sidelines.

All of the other aristocrats around me are finding their partners.

Count Huey looks around with a small smile at all the commotion. “I’m too old for this, myself.” I see that a little ways away from us, two attendees who have come as husband and wife reunite in the crowd, link arms, and walk out onto the dance floor.

Now, what about those other two...?

“My dear Butterfly, if it pleases you, would you allow me this dance?”

I’m holding my mask on my face as I spin left to right, looking for Rockmann in the crowd. The Pigheaded Gentleman next to me breaks into a small bow and stretches out his hand.

“Huh? Oh... with you, sir?”

Count Huey and the Pigheaded Gentleman make eye contact.

“If dancing with one like myself would be displeasing to my lady, please refuse my offer without hesitation. I shall be the gentleman and abandon my pursuit of you at once.”

“No, it’s not, displeasing, at all.”

He has the face of a pig, but in his manner he’s like a prince. I suppose that might be insulting to say out loud, however.

Even besides the fact that he is, in actual fact, pigheaded, I am tempted by his offer to dance. I can waltz well enough, can’t I?

I’m not going to go around shouting “I CAN DANCE!” from the rooftops, though.

Still, I had come to the ball tonight prepared to dance with Rockmann, and now I’m panicking about the night ending without my having achieved that. I don’t suppose I have the right to be upset about the situation. I spent all that time casually chatting with the Doctor about something completely unrelated, after all. Might as well go on ignoring my mission, for now, anyway.

“In that case, shall we make our way to the dance floor?”

The Pigheaded Gentleman seems to have understood my halfhearted, vague reply to his invitation as consent enough for him to gently take my hand and slowly lead me towards the center of the dance floor. I look around for Rockmann and his partner as we make our way through the crowd. The Doctor, I realize, is giving us a little wave. I hear him say, “Oh, to be young again,” as we leave him behind at the tables. I look away from him, and there, just a little to my left, I see the two of them together.

They have chosen each other as their partners for the last dance, as expected. Princess Carolla chose Rockmann; Rockmann chose Princess Carolla; they have chosen each other. Well, at least they seem happy.

As I am watching the two of them, the music quietly begins to play. Paired as I am with the Pigheaded Gentleman, in time with the music, I take my first step of the dance.

They’ve basically locked up their engagement now, haven’t they? I look at the two of them through my mask.

No, not “basically”—they are now engaged, under the terms Duke Rockmann described to me.

I wonder if perhaps I’ve failed the Duke by not speaking to Rockmann. But he should be able to rest easy now, knowing that they chose each other for the last dance, right? In the end, I hadn’t spoken to him at all. This is the path he chose, however, so what happens beyond tonight is entirely up to him.

Oh, look at that. The two of them are smiling at each other. “Well, whaddaya know, they seem fine together after all.”

“To whom do you refer?”

I’d accidentally said that part out loud, distracted as I was by the happy couple in the distance. My dance partner, the Pigheaded Gentleman, is tilting his head to one side in puzzlement at my remark.

“There’s this certain person who seems like they’re going to get engaged soon, but their parents were worried about the whole thing, apparently.”

“Is that so?”

“But now I can see that they didn’t need to worry at all.”

There was absolutely no point to my coming to this ball in the first place.

If I’ve gained anything from tonight, it’s the fact that I made an acquaintance of Doctor Aristo.

—————Squish.

“Hm?”

“So-sorry, I’m not good at dancing... Is your foot alright?!”

“It neither hurts or itches, so don’t worry about it. When it comes to dancing, it’s more important to enjoy oneself rather than try to do it all correctly. That applies to most things in life, I think.”

I had gone and stepped quite firmly on his foot. What was I thinking, that I could dance a waltz? I shouldn’t be going around accepting invitations left and right when I am totally not suited to the occasion, whether they’re invitations to go to a ball or to dance with a noble. I feel like I’ve learned that today, that’s for sure.

What the Pigheaded Gentleman is thinking at this, I have no idea, as he remains expressionless while I am panicking for having stepped on him. I feel like he’s laughing at me under that mask, just a little. Not being mean about it, of course, but the idea is enough to make me embarrassed. He’d laughed at me, or rather hadn’t, but the idea that he might have is enough to make me focus on the dance so I don’t mess up again.

Right now, what I need to show him is not “getting back up after I’ve fallen down”—I need to prove to him that I can fall, fly back up into the sky, and do three mid-air somersaults before making a magnificent landing.

“Brethren, hear me! Now is the time to reveal yourselves. Expose the faces under your masks, and let us behold this evening’s waltz in a new light, shall we?”

I am spinning in the Pigheaded Gentleman’s arms as I hear the King’s voice reverberate throughout the hall. From every corner of the dance floor I hear murmurs of discontent at the King’s command. Without grasping what, exactly, is going on, I see the King looking down at us from somewhere far above.

Then—is that powder?— something begins to fall from the ceiling. The small particles, bits of light, flutter down to shower on the dancers. Some land on my hair and arms.

What’s this stuff? What’s going on? I look around for my answer, and realize there’s something different about the people around me.

All of those people who had been wearing masks are now free of them, their natural faces exposed for all to see. I see not one purple- or green-haired head in the crowd, nor do I see a bird head or any other odd animal costumes like I had spotted earlier.

Beyond all that, however, I realize that the mask I had been wearing had been obstructing my vision, because now everything appears to be much lighter and sharper than it had been before. The weight of the mask on my face had finally disappeared.

My hair, stretching down to my shoulders, is once again blue.

“So who is it?”

“Pardon?”

“The person you’ve been talking about, the one who’s going to get engaged soon?”

I know that voice. I completely freeze, still looking away from my dance partner.

But that’s impossible. That voice could only come from him, over there...

Huh?

Princess Carolla has lost her mask, and, no surprise, she is who she appeared to be, but the man who she had been dancing with—who I’d believed to be Rockmann—is someone that I’ve never seen before. His light brown hair, and his somewhat shorter stature, mark him as someone quite different from the Rockmann I know. Princess Carolla has one hand over her mouth as she stares at her dance partner, aghast.

Were those light particles...breaking the spell?

The masks weren’t magical, though—why would they disappear with the other spellwork in the room?

But most important of all, the guy I’ve been dancing with...

Ever so slowly, I turn my head sideways to face my dance partner.

Before my eyes is a young man wearing glasses, his golden hair loose and unstyled as it stretches down to his shoulders, gawking at me with a stupid look on his face.

This is the first time that I’ve ever seen him with glasses on, so at first I think he’s someone else, but this guy is, no matter how unbelievable it may be, the guy that I’d been watching this whole time, the guy who I couldn’t possibly have just been dancing with.

There’s nothing in his facial features that would make me think of a “pig,” that’s for sure.

I look over once more at Princess Carolla, and then back at the person in front of me.

“Huh?”

“Ah, I know what you’re wondering—that guy over there was wearing my whole body as a costume.”

“Huh?!”

My voice sounds strange.

“It’s not so bad to be a pig every once in a while. I’m actually rather skilled at shapeshifting, but I rarely get the chance to use it. I was worried that the ladies would ignore me even if I tried to talk to them, but I guess I had some fun at the masked ball after all.”

He adjusts his glasses with his middle finger, taps me twice on the head with his hand, and rubs my hair a little, as if it is entirely natural for him to do so.

I smack that hand away without a moment’s hesitation. To have my head rubbed by this bastard! It’s completely humiliating! Worse, it’s insulting!

Right after I smack his hand, he comes back and lightly, or actually, firmly, whacks the side of my head. Ouch. That hurt, you know?

“Wh-Why?” I whisper to myself.

Marquess Fodeuri?

Pigheaded Gentleman?

What the hell was that whole charade about?!

“Why’re YOU here?!” I ask him, flabbergasted.

“Why am I here?” he says. “Shouldn’t I be asking you that?”

You—you’re Alois freakin’ Rockmann!

Look at him, the bastard, with his shiny blond hair, shiny eyes, shiny skin, standing there, shining. The nerve.

“Who’s—who’s ‘Marquess Fodeuri’?”

“I am Marquess Fodeuri. I haven’t lied to you tonight.”

Is this guy for real? Hold on—if he’s Rockmann, and he danced with me, what about his engagement with Princess Carolla?

“But enough about me... This is the second time today I’m asking you, but what’re you doing here, in a place like this?” He pauses, looking closely at me. “Clumsy idiot that you are, you still manage to cause me quite a bit of trouble, don’t you?” He takes the cloak that he’s wearing on his back and throws it over me, covering my head and shoulders. And, following that, I can no longer see anything at all.

Hey— Hold on!

“Ngh— Sto— What’re you—”

He called me an “idiot” again. Infuriating.

“I’m sure this has something to do with my father, but before you get all worked up—have you forgotten that there are people here tonight that know what you look like?”

“Hmmm?”

He grabs the back of my head as I try to get out from under him and shoves my face into his chest.

I’m being crushed. My face is being crushed. This bastard intends to kill me by crushing my skull right into his own body.

“Maris is here, yeah? There would be quite a commotion if the other aristocrats found out a commoner like you was here.”

Oh, is that so? Is that your reason for crushing my face? I’m sorry, I should never have doubted you.

No matter how uncomfortable my current predicament may be, I can’t run away right now. I can’t expose who I really am to this world.

And, based on what I can hear from beyond Rockmann’s cloak, it sounds very much like the ladies who had been dancing with the false Rockmann have realized their mistake, and, spotting the true Rockmann standing next to me, are dashing over to us, their high heels pounding against the hard dance floor.

“Goodness, Sir Alois!”

“How cruel of you to fool us!”

That’s right, now’s my chance—

“I know now’s not the best time for this, but lend me your ear for a sec,” Rockmann mumbles down to me through the cloak.

I twist my face, still being shoved against his chest, to look up toward the source of his voice, and there is a space where I can catch a glimpse of his face between the edge of his cloak and the collar.

“What? Just letting you know, but I can’t exactly ‘lend you my ear’ right now, physically speaking.”

From what little I can see of his face, close as it is, I can see him rolling his eyes in irritation at my insistence on technicalities.

“Okay, okay, I get it,” I whisper, refraining from agitating him further.

Now’s my chance—time to complete the mission.

“Do you like the Princess?”

In a very, very quiet voice, I ask my question. He hears it—I think. I glance up at the sliver of his face I can see through the gap.

“And to think I was seriously wondering what you were going to ask me,” he says quietly, sighing slightly.

“So, so... what’s your answer?”

I’d very much like for him to answer me quickly, so I can hop right out from his arms, retreat from the Great Hall, and head back home immediately. I’ll have to cover my blue hair with a paper napkin the whole time to prevent people from recognizing me, but it’ll do.

“Here’s my answer,” he whispers back, his tone shifting a little bit as if he is telling me some great secret.

“Articles Three and Ten of the Magical Labor Laws of the Kingdom of Doran, followed by Articles Thirty and Thirty-One of the Aristocratic Code.”

“...Excuse me?”

“You aren’t familiar with them?”

“That’s not what I’m asking.”

“No, it’s what you’re asking, I can promise you that.”

“Is that so. I suppose I still have a lot left to learn.”

I feel my hands twitch into fists, ready to punch him, but I hold myself back. I’m gonna freeze this bastard back to the Ice Age! What a prick! Not only did he completely dodge the question, now he’s laughing at me.

I’m sorry Duke, I’ve learned absolutely nothing of use!

“Sir Alois! Whyever!”

While I am silently fuming at Rockmann’s latest bout of idiocy, I sense that Princess Carolla has approached Rockmann and me.

Rockmann slowly draws his cloak tighter around me and turns away from the gap through which I can see him. He doesn’t seem troubled in the slightest. From somewhere in the back of my mind, I wonder, Don’t you think you should be panicking a little? You’ve been caught in—well, not a lie, but you’ve certainly led this girl on.

“Yo, Carolla. Looking pretty today, as always.”

“‘Pretty’! Who cares about that?! Why are you—”

Rockmann interrupts her. “Who does your heart belong to?”

Wrapped up in his cloak as I am, I can’t see what’s going on, but in Rockmann’s words, I can tell that something odd is happening around us.

I can’t hear the voices of any other aristocrats, but I suppose they must be watching the interaction between these two right now.

“It’s not me, is it?” His arm, holding me against him, tenses up ever so slightly as he says this.

“Wh-What are you saying? My heart belongs to you, Alois.”

“Wrong. If we keep going on like this, we’ll end up somewhere we can never return from. Before it gets to that, I need you to reject me, here and now.”

This isn’t a lovers’ quarrel... right?

What is it, then? Are they arguing over whether Princess Carolla ever felt anything for Rockmann? If she didn’t like him, why would the Princess be trying to marry him?

“Just try telling your father straight,” he said. “Your father isn’t the type of king who’d ignore a request from his darling daughter out of hand.”

“I, I...”

“I love seeing you smiling next to the man you love.”

Now all I can hear is Princess Carolla sobbing.

The ladykiller who went around making girls cry has finally brought the princess of another country to tears. And I’m here to witness it.

I don’t feel happy at all to be here. Furthermore, it’s getting rather hot under this cloak here, so I’d really like to get out from under his arms sometime soon. Not that I’ll be able to, but still.

“You’re...you’re right. I’m such a fool.”

“Go on, then. I’ll take care of the situation from here, somehow, so you can just go on back home.”

He says this all with the softest tone of voice, as if he is gently comforting a small child.

“...Yes, I will. But, you know, Alois, I...I liked you enough that I wouldn’t have minded spending the rest of my life together with you in marriage. It doesn’t seem like you felt the same, however.”

“If I were to marry someone, I’d want someone just as beautiful and intelligent as you, Carolla. But I’ve always wanted to marry the love of my life, so I can’t allow myself to enter into that sort of arrangement.”

He’s talking like love and marriage are two entirely different things.

So I guess that means these two aren’t in love?

After those last words from Rockmann, I no longer hear Princess Carolla’s voice. Instead, I hear something like the sound of someone nearby running away in high heels.

“What was that about?”

I whispered that very quietly, but Rockmann’s sharp ears catch my words and he answers my question.

“Her heart belongs to another man. That’s all.”

“Well, then that means your heart must be completely broken, right?”

“Even if it was, I’d wonder why you’d think it was okay to come out and ask me that right now.”

“Oh, sorry.”

I really have no idea what goes through this guy’s head. Had he liked her or not? He’d acted in ways that seemed to be considerate of her and her feelings, but some of what he’d done was strange, if in fact he’d had feelings for her.

Before I end up asking him something impolite again, like, “To what degree, exactly, is your heart broken right now,” I decide to change the subject.

“...Um, just, by the way, but I kinda want to go home, so... what should I do?”

I’ve changed the subject, or rather, moved on from topics I’m too busy to worry myself with, like other people’s love lives. Well, I suppose I’m not so busy that I couldn’t worry about them, but I would much rather think about other things, if I’ve got the time to do so.

I want to escape from this pitch-blackness all around me, take a deep breath of fresh air, take off from the King’s Isle, and get home as quickly as I can. Now that I’ve completed the mission given to me by the Duke, this next mission is one I’m giving myself.

“I can’t use magic, and Maris is around,” I said.

“You can’t stay hiding in my arms forever, after all. What should we do?”

Even if I don’t make a report to the Duke myself, I’m sure Rockmann will say something to him, and in any case, I had done what he’d asked me to do: Princess Carolla likes someone else, but hasn’t been honest about it to Rockmann, and so before it got to the point of a formal engagement, I’d forced them to confront each other about the issue and call off the engagement. She would go back home to her country, while Rockmann would stay here. The Duke would understand that this was the decision both of them had made.

“That’s right—I asked you this earlier, but why are you here?”

“...Secret investigation.”

“Oh, I get it—my father told you to discover my true feelings about Carolla, didn’t he?”

If you know why I’m here, don’t ask!

“How did you know that?”

“You came to the palace tonight with my father, didn’t you? Also, you asked me a question about a topic that normally you’d have no interest in, right? And that was only after you found out who I was.”

He did have a point that it had been rather odd of me to ask him, of all people, a question about his love life. No matter what our relationship was, friendly or otherwise, I think we liked to believe that we knew each other well. I hadn’t, however, known or ever expressed any interest in knowing about his ideas on romance or feelings for Carolla, so he must have sensed I felt odd asking him about it, and figured that I wasn’t asking because I wanted to know, I was asking on behalf of someone else.

Then, of course, the Duke had worn that “mask” that barely covered up half of his face, so even people who hadn’t been paying close attention to our arrival at the ball would have noted that the Duke was accompanied by an unfamiliar woman tonight.

So he’d doubted me from the very beginning, hadn’t he?

“I’d thought my disguise was perfect,” I mumble, irritated.

“If you want a perfect disguise,” he says, “don’t look so beautiful next time.”

“Huh?”

Don’t look so beautiful?

Why can’t I put on a costume to look beautiful? Or is he perhaps trying to say in a roundabout fashion that I am beautiful even without a costume? Which is it?

“I don’t understand what you’re trying to say,” I reply, uncertain as to how I should express my confusion. I can’t very well come out and ask him, “Do you think I’m beautiful?”

“You see, this is just another example of a time when you... Ah, forget it.” Rockmann stops speaking halfway through, clearly exasperated at my response.

Why’s he acting like this with me? I’m not an idiot for misunderstanding something right now, I hope.

“Ahh,” Rockmann sighs, “just when I think I’ve found a good woman for me, this happens.”

“What happens?”

“Anything that can go wrong, does go wrong. I’ve never had much luck in love, is what it means.”

I tilt my head yet further sideways in confusion. Now he’s lost me again.

“Sir Alois, whatever might you be doing?”

In the midst of our muttered conversation, a woman calls out to us—or rather, calls out to Rockmann. I suddenly remember that I haven’t, in fact, left the ball room and this whole mess of a situation I’m in quite yet.

“What was that about? The commotion, earlier,” she goes on.

“That lady was Princess Carolla, no? Was there something the matter with her?”

I can’t move. The second I move, this whole charade will fall apart.

“Sir Alois, who might be that woman under your cloak?”

That’s Maris speaking. My heart is pounding at the tone of suspicion in her words. It’s frustrating. I want her to know I’m here, but at the same time, I really can’t allow her to. I feel as though I’m about to scream in annoyance at this whole affair. That’s it! There’s nothing to it except to resort to this!

“Cough, cough... COUGH.”

“Oh my?”

Special attack! The Sickness Strategy.

“CoUgHHH, cOugh.”

I groan in fake pain.

I try to make it sound like I feel terrible... Well, actually I do feel terrible. Why don’t I make it sound how I really feel? After all, my thumb is being jammed into my throat at this very instant, all so I can sound more convincingly ill.

I, Nanalie, declare myself to be no longer an Ice-type mage, but a Drama-type.

Rockmann, hurry up and figure out what I’m trying to pull off here. I shoot a cough in his direction to get his attention. Rockmann slightly, ever so slightly, shifts a bit in reaction to my cough. Or perhaps not. I may have imagined it.

“Sir Alois? I don’t suppose you’ve had an amusing little dalliance with that lady there?”

“Oh, no, nothing like that. This woman here simply doesn’t feel well. She’s in such a bad way, in fact, that I can’t even show you her face. There’s simply no point in showing you a woman in such a hideous state, snot dripping from her nose, gripped in a cold sweat—not something you want to see at all.”

Hey now. Watch it, bud.

“Dearest me! Is that so?”

“Why in that case, I suppose the best thing would be to take her home as soon as possible.”

Just how awful of a woman does he want them to think I am? I’m glad that he figured out what I’m trying to do, but still, I don’t like what he’s saying. It’s like that time when I was told that I got 100 percent correct on an exam, only to be told later that there were actually 101 points available, so I hadn’t actually managed to get a perfect score.

Miss Maris and the other women seem to have accepted this explanation of the state of affairs. “You can exit the hall out that way,” I hear one of them say, and we begin moving.

“Thanks,” Rockmann says, all relaxed. I want to give him a piece of my mind for being so relaxed at a moment like this, but he is covering up for me, so I can’t exactly complain about his behavior.

I must say, however, that for all the disguises to be completely removed in the way that they were—the whole idea of a “masked ball” was rather pointless, wasn’t it?

“Once we leave the palace, you’re going to leave the island on your familiar. Got it?”

“Yeah, yeah. Oh, wait—what was that nonsense about the ‘Magical Labor Law’ or something?”

“Quiet. Every time I talk to you, I feel like I’m losing another piece of my mind.”

My long day, short as it had seemed, ended with this conversation with him in front of the palace gates.

In the midst of all my other problems that I need to take care of, Rockmann had given me this new, strange riddle to think about, and he didn’t seem to want to help me figure it out. I frown as I begin summoning Lala. An irritating bastard to the end.

As if he wants absolutely nothing more to do with me, Rockmann walks briskly back into the palace after our conversation, without so much as turning around to look back at me even once.

“Ugh, that Fire Fool is so dumb.”

There isn’t a single Knight outside the palace.

Even with the barrier at the edge of the forest, is it really alright for them to be this unguarded against demons?

With that thought on my mind, I get on Lala’s back and we take off, flying back down to the land below the Isle.

(Continued in the next volume.)