Table of Contents
Cover
Color Illustration
Characters
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
The Musings of Alain Lisnard
Afterword
About J-Novel Club
Copyright
Chapter One
My first foray into society occurred in the spring of the year I turned fifteen.
When girls from upper-class families reach marriageable age, the time comes for them to dress up beautifully and show themselves off before great numbers of people. Naturally, the primary goal of this is to find a husband. Though marriage is essentially arranged by a girl’s parents, families still need to make it clear which girls are on the market. Society is the place for the contenders to show off all their achievements: their beauty and charm, their refinement and cultivation, and their flair for the art of conversation.
By attending all sorts of social gatherings, people develop new connections and exchange information. This includes discussion of unmarried young ladies, which in turn leads to marriages being arranged. Even if the young man and woman concerned don’t find each other on their own, they’re often introduced by common acquaintances. For this reason, it’s necessary for a young lady to make her existence known to as many people as possible, in order to generate interest.
First impressions are everything, so a debut requires working especially hard to look striking. To that end, everyone at the event where I was making my debut had put a great deal of effort into their appearance. Everywhere I looked, I saw dazzling displays of beauty. Standing in a corner of the opulent ballroom, I was unable to contain my excitement as I took in the stunning scene.
“Oh, there’s Lady Aurelia! It’s been rather a while since I last saw her. She’s even more beautiful now. She already has the bearing of a princess. Her dress is magnificent, too. Any color would suit her, no matter how ostentatious, but she’s purposely chosen that deep shade of blue. Such elegant taste! It sets off her looks and her luscious golden hair so marvelously. How can I describe the faces of the men surrounding her other than ‘spellbound’? Frankly, I can understand their reactions!”
“Stop.”
“And there’s Lady Marguerite of House Delvincourt! I see the voluptuous figure she inherited from her mother is just as sensuously impactful as ever. Am I imagining it, or has she grown even more buxom since I last saw her? I wonder if there’s some secret to her success. Perhaps it is simply hereditary. Our mother is rather flat-chested as well...and the only voluptuous part of our father is his belly.”
“Marielle, are you listening?”
“Goodness, that couple over there—what could they be doing? There’s definitely something suspicious going on. Oh my, they’re surreptitiously leaving the ballroom! Some sort of secret rendezvous? Perhaps I could follow them!”
When I casually took a step forward, my older brother, Gerard, pulled me back by the ribbon around my waist. “Stop it. That’s thoroughly improper.”
I turned to face him, and he stared back at me from behind his black-rimmed glasses; Gerard was bespectacled like me, though his glasses were half-hidden by the dense thicket of his bangs.
He sighed in exasperation. “Why are you acting this way?”
“How can I resist? It’s a real, adult romance! It’s nothing like the faint bittersweetness of being given a lizard by the boy next door. It’s a grown-up love affair bathed in rich sweetness! This is the very thing I’ve longed to see. To thrill the readers, I’ll have to know all about real love.”
“I fail to see what was so bittersweet about that business with the lizard. He threw it at you to torment you. A child who would celebrate that is certainly too young to be stealing glimpses at other people’s trysts. Besides, have you forgotten why you’re here?”
“I most certainly have not! Look, I have my trusty notebook and pen right here.”
“Ah, so you haven’t forgotten, you’ve just completely misunderstood! Stop focusing on other people’s love lives and start looking for a husband of your own. After all that effort to dress up, do you mean to go home without dancing with anyone? Wouldn’t you find that a bit sad?”
“You danced with me,” I replied, putting my notebook away. “I’m happy with that.”
As was usual for a debutante, I’d been escorted here by my brother. Per convention, he had led me in my first dance. It had also been my last, for no other suitors had come to ask me to dance. I’d expected to be thoroughly ignored, and those expectations had been met.
“Ignored” was generous, even. It was more that I hadn’t registered to them in the first place. The taffeta dress Mother and Father had given me was lovely, and it did make me look presentable in my own way. However, the moment I arrived here, I had realized the truth. Amongst all these young ladies bursting with beauty and charisma, even my best effort was equivalent to a tadpole sprouting legs. There were limits to how much a dress could achieve when worn by a plain girl with no presence whatsoever.
The faint hopes I’d been harboring had vanished within five minutes and I’d decided that I would have to dedicate my life to fangirl pursuits after all. That I would carefully and thoroughly observe this resplendent world and recreate it in vivid detail in my writing. Gatherings of lords and ladies were an exhibition of human behavioral patterns. All around, there were some people making reputations as shameless philanderers and others burning with secret passion. Over here, a new spark of love was being ignited. Over there, a relationship was falling apart. Human drama as surprising as any novel was unfolding everywhere I looked, and I couldn’t tear myself away from it.
“What are we going to do with you? Well, never mind. If that’s what gives you pleasure, then feel free.”
With those incredulous words, Gerard quickly threw in the towel.
“The average gentleman won’t approve of your personality and interests, anyway,” he added. “It’s probably better for you to keep doing as you wish rather than forcing yourself to enter that gaudy fray only to be hurt in the end.”
I glanced up at my brother. The truth, as I was well aware, was that he had his own reasons for being glued to a largely abandoned corner of the room. It wasn’t purely because he was escorting his inexperienced sister.
“What about your search for a wife? Mother’s been quite insistent.”
My brother was twenty-three years old. Rather than being so concerned about me, who had only just debuted, he should have been striving to make connections with young noblewomen. He would never be married if he simply stood and waited, as evidenced by the total lack of attention we were drawing here in our isolated corner. Like sister, like brother. He, too, was a plain man who attracted no interest from potential admirers.
He had bushy, unruly hair of the same brown color as mine. He should have styled it neatly with pomade or some such, but he paid it so little care that it lacked any sophistication at all. The black-rimmed glasses were also as far from smart and stylish as could be imagined. From his features alone, he could have been relatively handsome, but he went out of his way to hide them, so the ladies of society graced him with neither their gazes nor their interest.
The man himself seemed not to mind. If not for his duty of escorting me, he wouldn’t have attended this evening at all.
“Those women in heavy makeup smelling of perfume hold no appeal to me whatsoever. Compared to the natural scent of flowers and nature, they’re an embarrassment.”
“There are ladies who are more moderate and low-key.”
“Nor can I stand any who are haughty and proud. Don’t they feel ashamed looking at a flower that’s perfect from the moment it blooms without needing anything else?”
“There are kind ones too, I’m quite sure.”
“And any woman who lives for extravagant luxury is out of the question. Our family doesn’t have money to squander.”
I arched my eyebrows. “And yet you keep ordering your rare seedlings.”
“What’s wasteful about that? They have a practical value.”
“I honestly don’t feel you’re in a position to criticize me, Gerard. You should at least acknowledge that you, too, are rather odd for putting horticulture in pride of place above all else.”
“The ‘too’ there is telling. That means you’re aware of your own peculiarity. Anyway, there’s nothing wrong with horticulture. It’s a perfectly appropriate hobby for a nobleman.”
“Though a plant can’t measure up to the cuteness of a cat!”
“Why are we talking about cats all of a sudden?!”
Forgetting where we were, we lapsed into our usual sibling bickering. Then, nearby, someone softly burst into laughter.
As one, we stopped talking and turned to look. A tall figure stood in a spot that left him partly hidden by a flower vase and a curtain. The young blond man was covering his mouth with his hand.
“My apologies. Your good cheer was infectious.”
It looked as though he was taking a moment away from the gazes of the crowd. He put his glass down, bowed to us both, then walked off. When he appeared before
the room again, all eyes were on him in an instant—including mine. His tall, broad-shouldered form gripped my attention.
“Gerard,” I said, my voice a whisper.
My brother heaved a sigh beside me.
“Who was that man?” I asked.
“Easy, Marielle. I understand the sentiment, but please calm down. He’s not an option for you. No matter how hard you try, he’ll forever be out of reach. Do you understand?”
I pulled on Gerard’s arm. “I’m asking you who he is!”
Despite ardently following the man with my eyes, I soon lost sight of him, much to my chagrin, as a growing crowd of people surrounded him. Every young lady, from exquisite beauties to alluring vixens, was drawn to this one gentleman.
“Tell me!”
When I shook his arm and pleaded, Gerard answered with a deep sigh. “Lord Simeon of House Flaubert.”
“Flaubert... The earldom, yes?”
“Indeed. He’s the son and heir to that tremendously esteemed house. Furthermore, he’s the close confidant of His Highness the Crown Prince, and was promoted to Vice Captain of the Royal Order of Knights just the other day. He’s a year older than me, I believe, so he should be turning twenty-four this year. He even has the rank of major already. At this rate, he’ll be a field marshal by the time he’s thirty! No, that would surely be too much even for him.”
“Lord Simeon...”
Halfway through Gerard’s explanation, the words stopped registering as I locked his name inside my heart like a treasure. It was the briefest of encounters; I hadn’t even had time to say anything. By the next time we met, I was sure he’d have forgotten me already. All he’d seen was a squabbling pair of unknown siblings. We’d vanish from his memory after five minutes.
For me, this chance meeting was a revelation.
“Marielle, are you listening? The peerless House Flaubert wouldn’t even consider a match with an insignificant house like ours. Not to mention that the man himself is God’s gift to women and the most eligible bachelor of our generation. Could you say with any confidence that you could beat the competition? You’re out of your depth. It’s a dream that is not to be.”
“I don’t care about that!”
“Excuse me?”
Mesmerized, I let go of my brother’s arm and interlocked my fingers in front of my chest. “Lord Simeon. What a wonderful person. He’s as dashing as a storybook Prince Charming, and his tall, slender body is akin to an elegant white lily. And yet, he lacks any sense of ephemeral weakness. His refined appearance exudes mighty strength.”
“Because he’s a military officer, I suppose. Combat training would have played a major role in his life.”
“And he’s the Vice Captain of the Royal Order of Knights, the military’s royal guard branch composed of the elite few worthy of the title of ‘knight.’ Not Captain, but Vice Captain! How perfect!”
“Hmm? Why? Wouldn’t the highest position be better?”
“There’s beauty in matching the archetype exactly. Most outstanding of all are his glasses! They give the cold, hard aura of an intellectual! Nothing can match that!”
“But you wear glasses. So do I.”
“I can scarcely believe that a man of his nature truly exists in this world. I’m grateful to be alive. Grateful that I came to this place on this day. Thank you, God, for letting me meet the blackhearted man of my dreams!”
“Blackhearted? Where on earth did that come from?!”
The one I’d just caught a glimpse of was the very picture of my most beloved archetype. He was a dashing young man whose graceful appearance was accompanied by a powerful, threatening air of roguish villainy. Oh, the quiet pressure exuded by the smile he’d shown us! Hidden behind his mild-mannered exterior was a scheming tactician. To think that my favorite type of character, the one that captured my heart in stories more than any other, really existed! The brutal, blackhearted military officer!
“Wait,” said Gerard in response to my mutterings. “Don’t just assume all that. Admittedly he is as much brain as brawn, but I’m sure there’s nothing brutal and villainous about him. From everything I’ve heard, he’s fairly straitlaced.”
A new sense of anticipation swelled in me. If I keep going to social gatherings, will I be able to keep seeing him? While I observe all different kinds of human behavior to gather research material, I can gaze at the very object of all my fangirl desires. Oh, how magical society is! I’ve entered a world that glows and glistens. All I have to do is collect the sparkling morsels and I’ll be able to write books that truly make the heart race!
“You’re still not listening, are you? Never mind. Just don’t tell anyone else about this, all right? Do whatever research gathering you wish to, just don’t forget to behave sensibly in front of other people.”
“Of course. I won’t behave in a way that makes me conspicuous. I’ll silently blend into the background, devoting myself to moving like a shadow so that no one even realizes I’m there.”
“You really don’t intend to look for a husband, do you?”
That was how I remembered my debut. My first steps into the adult world were more astonishing than I’d ever have expected. That night had thrilled me and set my fangirl fire blazing out of control. Even though no one asked me to dance and, in fact, no one even came and spoke to me, I had the best time imaginable. I had countless other reasons to be excited. More than I could have absorbed in a single lifetime.
From that day forth, I studied the people around me wherever I went, but my greatest sources of pleasure were my occasional glimpses of that particular man. I didn’t exchange any words with him, of course. He didn’t even notice my existence. I gazed at him secretly from afar, never even telling him that he was exactly what I fangirled over most of all.
“And that was that,” I concluded.
After I shared this precious memory, my husband pressed his fingers to his forehead and exhaled. “I don’t remember that at all, but somehow I can picture your reaction exactly.”
I chuckled. Three years after that sensational encounter, the man who lived so far above the clouds that I thought I’d never, ever reach him had surprised me with a marriage proposal. A year after that, at age nineteen, I now stood close by his side as his wife.
No one had imagined this development. I doubted even God understood it. Sometimes truth is stranger than even the strangest fiction. As an author, I found it quite vexing; it stirred up my creative urges to even greater heights.
Tonight was another occasion with great numbers of lords and ladies dancing beneath the chandeliers. We’d reached the end of the season when invitations flew left and right and everyone’s social calendars were full. The day had finally come for House Flaubert to throw a ball.
Being a ball thrown by a wealthy and prestigious house, the event’s scale was immense. The guest list had easily reached three digits, with prominent figures arriving one by one. I was no longer allowed to hide in the corner. As the wife of the future earl, I had to greet the guests and keep an eye on the proceedings, giving orders to the servants as needed.
Frankly, I was on the verge of death. Even a modest party for close relatives at my parents’ house had pushed me to my limits. Having a ballroom filled with ten or twenty times as many people, and having to play hostess rather than watching from the sidelines, was grueling.
Upon reaching a point where I genuinely was close to collapse, I had asked if I could take a quick break. Then, staggering, I’d escaped to the balcony. My husband had followed and joined me there.
The cool night breeze felt pleasant on my skin. Summer had reached an end. In less than a month, long sleeves would be required even during the daytime. Autumn came early to countries in the northern part of the continent. In countries even further north than Lagrange, such as Slavia and Teme, I’d heard they had frosty weather as early as October.
I went over to the steps that led from the balcony to the garden. When I started walking down them, careful to avoid stepping on my dress’s long hem, Lord Simeon offered assistance without a moment’s delay. Supported by his large hand, I slowly descended to the perfectly tended gardens.
The gardens that stretched out at the back of the Flaubert manor were vast enough to be called a park. Flower beds and paths had been placed with expert mathematical precision. Seen from above, the view was like a painting on a canvas. Lagrangian-style gardens were designed more for the joy of looking at them than of walking around them, so they were typically closed as soon as the sun set, preventing a nighttime stroll.