~Chapter 4~
Amelie briefly explained how she had fallen for Christan a year ago.
Of course, this was the first time she was telling anyone about it. Back then, she thought he was already married, so it was something she couldn’t say out loud.
But now that she knew he wasn’t, talking about it didn’t seem like a big deal after all.
“If I’d known, I should’ve just said something sooner.”
Letting out a small sigh, Amelie wrapped up her story.
“…So, maybe that’s why I feel a little weird now.”
“…”
“Nina?”
Nina had been sitting there with her mouth open, listening blankly. She jumped at Amelie’s voice and replied:
“Yes?”
“Were you even listening?”
“Yes, of course!”
“Then why didn’t you react at all…?”
Amelie asked with a droopy expression, and Nina flailed her arms in a panic.
“Ah, n-no! I was just lost in thought for a moment. Sorry!”
“No need to apologize… Hmm, but I still don’t know why I feel so weird.”
“I think I know why!”
“Huh?”
Amelie’s eyes widened at Nina’s response.
“You should confess your feelings to the Grand Duke right now!”
“Confess?!”
Amelie was shocked, and Nina nodded quickly.
“Yes! He’s not engaged anymore, so there’s no problem if you confess now! I’m sure the Count and Countess would support you too!”
“…You think so?”
Amelie’s cheeks instantly flushed pink. She nodded shyly, pretending to give in.
“I’ll think about it a bit more before I decide.”
“Okay! I’ll always be cheering for you, milady!”
Smiling at Nina, who had her fists clenched in support, Amelie glanced at the scattered luggage.
Nina had already tidied up most of it while Amelie stepped out earlier, but a few dress hems still peeked out.
She stood and walked over, saying,
“Well, if I want to make a good impression at dinner tonight… I’ll need to change into something pretty, right?”
At her words, Nina’s eyes lit up with enthusiasm.
“Yes! Leave it to me!”
“My lord. It’s almost dinner time.”
Gerard, buried in paperwork, called out. It was his attempt to escape the workload—just for a bit.
“Already?”
Christan checked the clock with a flat expression. There was about an hour left until dinner.
He called to the servant waiting by the door.
“Call someone to help me get ready.”
“Yes, Your Grace.”
After the servant left, Christan headed to the dressing room.
He didn’t care much for dressing up, but it would be rude to show up in front of guests looking sloppy.
He soon arrived and scanned his wardrobe.
On the left side were his usual dull-colored clothes. On the right, brightly colored, fancy garments.
There was a particularly large section of green-toned outfits—but he didn’t even glance at them.
“I feel like wearing that gray jacket today.”
“That one looks good, but how about trying this tonight?”
The servant, summoned to help, offered him a burgundy outfit with gold embellishments.
Christan didn’t want to argue about clothes, so he just wore it.
He glanced in the mirror. The reflection felt unfamiliar—completely different from his usual dull taste.
Seeing his servant’s awkward smile from the corner of his eye, Christan asked nothing, but the man explained:
“It’s been so long since a lady has visited. I suppose I got a little excited. I just hoped Your Grace would look nice…”
Christan had no intention of scolding him—but he really didn’t want to wear something so heavy.
Dressed like a peacock, he doubted he’d even know if the food went into his mouth or nose.
“…”
After getting his hair and skin checked one last time, Christan said:
“Go escort Lady Winterpool to the dining room.”
“Yes, Your Grace.”
The servant went to fetch her, and Christan left the dressing room.
Upon arriving at the dining room, the staff opened the doors for him. He sat down and looked toward the entrance.
“When will she arrive?”
His gaze landed on the fresh flower arrangement in the middle of the table. The color was a deep red.
As he looked between the red flowers and his red outfit, the doors to the dining room suddenly swung open. Just as he stood to greet his guest—
“Sorry I’m late! It took longer to get ready than I thought… Huh?”
“…”
Amelie, who wasn’t actually late, was chattering as she entered but froze mid-sentence. Christan, half-risen from his seat, also stopped dead. The servants carrying dishes stood frozen too.
Christan glanced at her outfit, then at his own—back and forth.
Then he slowly looked up and locked eyes with her.
It was awkward.
What in the world was going on?
Before all that, Amelie had sat in front of the mirror with a solemn expression.
Nina, just as serious, held up dresses and said,
“These red or yellow ones would look good on you. What do you think?”
“I’ll go with the red.”
Amelie chose a deep burgundy dress—similar to her eye color but with a richer tone.
The dress had gold decorations placed in just the right spots. It was one of the most extravagant dresses she owned—definitely in her top five.
“Wearing something this fancy is good manners for a dinner hosted by the Grand Duke.”
“No, milady—just your presence is good manners!”
“What? You’re too much…”
Blushing, Amelie changed into the dress with Nina’s help. Her long blue-silver hair, when simply brushed, looked like it had been styled professionally.
She finished the look with light makeup and tiny ruby earrings.
“You look so beautiful, milady!”
Nina gasped in awe at the final result. Amelie murmured while sticking close to the mirror,
“At this point, anyone would start falling for me.”
“Exactly! How does red look so good on you?”
As Nina spoke, Amelie stared at the dangling ruby earrings and the rich burgundy dress.
“Red…”
In truth, nothing was redder than her eyes.
Her parents, the Count and Countess of Winterpool, both had blue eyes.
But they never doubted her. It was common for witches to have red eyes.
“…”
Because of her noticeable red eyes, she often faced discomfort.
If she avoided eye contact, people said she looked gloomy. If she walked confidently, they said she was shameless for a witch.
“What do they want from me?”
Of course, that was back when she lived in the witches’ academy. Now, as part of noble society, things had improved.
Amelie had started wearing red accessories deliberately, as if to say, “Red eyes are no big deal.”
Choosing red things became a habit, and everyone just assumed she liked the color.
And truthfully… she did.
But to say she only liked it? Well…
“No, I shouldn’t overthink this.”
She shook her head to clear her mind and stepped away from the mirror.
Just then, someone knocked on the door.
“Milady, the Grand Duke has summoned you to the dining room.”
“Okay, I’m coming.”
Changing from her indoor slippers to black Mary Janes, Amelie stepped into the hallway. The servant greeted her politely.
“Allow me to escort you to the dining room.”
“Thanks.”
Amelie followed him kindly. The dining room was on the first floor.
“Please enjoy your evening.”
The servant opened the door, and Amelie stepped inside.
“Sorry I’m late! It took longer than I thought to get ready… Huh?”
She wasn’t actually late, but still started explaining. Then she froze.
Her eyes landed on Christan.
“…”
The Grand Duke. His outfit—burgundy.
Her dress—also burgundy.
It was as if they had planned it. Even the gold details on both outfits matched.
As she stared back and forth between their clothes, her eyes moved to the table’s flower arrangement—it was red too.
“…”
Maybe…
I might start to really like the color red.
