Chapter 3
Naturally, the only person who could ask such a question was the host of the party.
Sure enough, Baron Kirhoff was approaching Mirhel, striking up a conversation. Fortunately, the insufferable Errel was nowhere in sight.
“Of course. It’s a wonderful party.”
“I’m glad it meets your expectations. I hope the lady at your side is also enjoying it.”
Baron Kirhoff smoothly steered the conversation.
“Lady Sestol, if it pleases you, may I request a dance?”
He extended his hand toward her. Mity glanced at Mirhel before grasping it. Mirhel gave a faint nod. Only after confirming his permission did she place her hand atop Baron Kirhoff’s.
Do I really have to ask for permission for everything?
“Yes, of course.”
So frustrating.
“It’s an honor.”
Baron Kirhoff led her to the center of the ballroom. People naturally made way. Mity tried to think positively. Even a ridiculous dance was better than standing silently like wallpaper.
She let her body move automatically, letting the soft violin ensemble from behind the curtains wash over her ears.
As she danced, she caught sight of Errel dancing with another gentleman. That same sly, knowing smile played on Errel’s lips. Mity imagined what she would do if… a bear suddenly appeared.
Wouldn’t it be great if a bear just popped out?
In Mity’s mind, a massive bear smashed through the mansion’s windows, revealing fangs the size of a child’s arm.
Everyone would panic, screaming and hopping around like fleas.
And of course, Errel would be among them, desperately tap-dancing barefoot to escape. Mity found the thought deeply satisfying.
“Miss Sestol?”
Amid the imagined chaos, only she stood bravely, rolling up her sleeves and preparing to face the bear…
“Lady Sestol? What exactly are you thinking?”
I’ll give it an uppercut to the snout first.
“Excuse me?”
“Yes?”
Baron Kirhoff’s eyes widened. Mity’s eyes widened in tandem.
“What did you just say?”
“What did I just say?”
Their mouths opened and closed almost simultaneously. Mity blinked, trying to recall what she had actually said, but before she could, Baron Kirhoff spoke first.
“You said you’d give it an uppercut to the snout.”
“I just said I’m enjoying dancing with Your Excellency too much.”
She shamelessly lied, reflexively defending herself, though sweat beaded down her spine.
“That’s quite a joke. You’d hit a bear? Ha. Look at my arm—you’ll see my wrist is thicker than my forearm, Your Ladyship.”
“I never said it was a bear.”
“When did I say bear?”
“You just…”
“I can’t even kill a bug.”
Mity blocked his questioning with a casual laugh. She could feel his gaze sticking to her cheek, sticky and insistent. The song ended before she could figure out how to extricate herself. They froze like wind-up music boxes.
It’s over.
She let out a secret sigh of relief. Somehow, she had managed her task well enough.
“There’s Miss Sestol. Shall I see her to her place?”
Baron Kirhoff gallantly guided her forward. Passing her to Mirhel, the two men exchanged some trivial conversation.
“I hear you’re researching mana crystals.”
“Yes. I’ve succeeded in refining mana to a usable stage.”
“Fascinating.”
While they made polite conversation, Mity sipped her drink to wet her dry throat. Would Mirhel suspect? That Baron Kirhoff’s approach toward Minachelty was driven by ulterior motives?
Of course not, otherwise he wouldn’t act so casually.
Mity scoffed and drained the drink in one go, grabbing a bit more food afterward. Having danced with Baron Kirhoff, she was ready to head home.
When will this end?
As she tapped the polished marble floor with her toes, the conversation suddenly turned toward her.
“I’d like to speak with your younger sister a bit longer. If she’s agreeable, I’d also be happy to show her around my estate personally.”
“Your Excellency says so, but what do you think, Mity?”
“Pardon?”
Mity blinked, taken aback. Her vagueness clearly displeased Mirhel, whose brow furrowed slightly.
“His Excellency wishes to personally guide you through the estate.”
My feet hurt.
The pain from her shoes came first to mind, then the reason she had even come to this party.
Right. If I want to leave, I have to go along.
She forced a trembling smile.
“Yes, I’d like that.”
She had no real choice anyway. The task assigned to her was fixed, and if she wanted freedom as soon as possible, cooperating would help things proceed smoothly.
But why a tour?
Her immediate discomfort hadn’t changed. Her breath caught as if submerged in water, and her sharp, stiff shoes felt as though they might crush her toes. She could barely resist the urge to find the person who designed such shoes and give them a piece of her mind.
“Shall we?”
“Yes.”
She recalled the scale of the estate she had glimpsed on the way in, glancing first at Kirhoff’s shoes, then her own. All she could do was pray her toes survived.
Damn these shoes. Damn this estate. Collapse already.
“The layout of the estate is somewhat unique. Rather than separate rooms, the corridors serve as a long gallery.”
“I see.”
The gallery he led her through was long and ostentatious. Without a single window, it was lined with expensive items on both sides, arranged as if to flaunt them.
“These are porcelains imported from the Eastern continent.”
“I see.”
Mity replied half-heartedly, eyeing the large display cabinets.
Is this just showing off wealth?
Leaving them out in the open like this—what if someone stole or broke something? she thought, muttering inwardly.
“The estate is quite extravagant overall.”
“Excuse me?”
“This mansion.”
Mity shrugged. Her slightly mocking tone sharpened Baron Kirhoff’s gaze. He realized she was subtly ridiculing his taste.
So what if he notices?
She thought she could afford a small jab while playing along with his ridiculous little performance.
“Ah.”
He seemed to understand the implication in her words, his eyebrows lifting slightly.
“Honestly, it’s not my taste. It’s Ms. Errel’s.”
“Is that so?”
Mity responded indifferently, closing her mouth.
The baron stopped explaining the items lining the corridor. The silence was filled with the sound of their slow footsteps.
“Miss, you seem a bit different than what the rumors suggested.”
“You mean the rumors that Minachelty Sestol is dull, naive, and timid?”
“Ha! No.”
Renearn Kirhoff’s even teeth showed in a smile. His pale blue-gray eyes softened with his laughter.
“The rumor that your eyes reddened because you want to marry someone powerful.”
In a voice as gentle as a confession, Baron Kirhoff spoke.
