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THE day after the ball was a day off. After their ordeal the night before, both Ophelia and Bernard slept until noon and still awoke exhausted. Even when the following day rolled around, the two were still dragging a bit as they sat slumped in the Royal Palace’s carriage.
Ophelia’s brother and their father, Earl Narve, worked at the Architectural Institute, which was under the jurisdiction of the Ministry of Ceremonies. Generation after generation, the Narve earls had left the governance of their estate far out in the countryside to a branch of the family that held the hereditary rank of viscount so they could lead a simple, unobtrusive life in the Royal City and work at the Architectural Institute.
Every day, Ophelia would ride together with her father and brother in the carriage that took them to the Architectural Institute at the very outskirts of the Royal Palace grounds. It wasn’t a terribly busy department, so they were almost always able to leave together after work without needing to do any overtime. Add in the fact that they tended to spend most of their days off at home together without going out anywhere, and the Narves had earned the reputation of being a very close, loving family within the Architectural Institute.
“So, Ophie, what did you think of Duke Stolarni? I know how much you were looking forward to seeing him,” the siblings’ father, Sigmond, asked his daughter, who was lying against her brother’s shoulder with her eyes closed. Sigmond shared his children’s dark brown hair, eyes, and plain facial features.
“From a distance, he was very handsome and almost appeared to be sparkling, but…”
“But?”
“Up close… He was very frightening.”
Ophelia’s father couldn’t help the unbecoming snort that escaped him at the sight of his flustered daughter realizing what she’d said and covering her mouth with her hands in horror.
“I told you not to get your hopes up, didn’t I? The duke is famous for being a strict and difficult person.”
“It’s hard to believe he’s the younger brother of our kind and magnanimous king,” Ophelia remarked.
“It’s said that back when the duke was still the heir presumptive, many scheming aristocrats pegged him as an easy target due to being the king’s much younger brother, and yet each of them was dealt with ruthlessly and sent packing with their tails between their legs. I’m sure his prickly exterior is a result of dealing with such machinations ever since he was a child. He’s actually a sincere and hard-working young man, I’ll have you know.”
“Even so, it’s strange to glare at people simply for daring to greet him politely, isn’t it?” Bernard muttered, contradicting his father’s assessment of the duke.
“It’s not for you to say such things about those ranked above us, Bernard. In any case, the duke saw you in that state, didn’t he, Ophie? He’s an extremely perceptive man, so from now on it’s best you do all you can to avoid his notice.”
“You don’t have to tell me twice, Father. I have no intention of going anywhere near him ever again!” Ophelia dragged herself upright so she could gaze out the window. The sight of the familiar Architectural Institute coming into view calmed her nerves a little.
Ophelia had possessed a certain special ability for as long as she could remember. She was hypersensitive to the indescribable sense of “something’s not right here” that you might get when something wasn’t fitting into the place, or was in an unnatural state.
Whenever she detected that something was not right, Ophelia’s arms and legs would shake. When it was just a minor issue, just her hands would tremble a bit. But when it was a more serious issue with a high likelihood of resulting in injury, her whole body would shake to the point that she couldn’t even stand. At times, she even collapsed right there on the spot.
She’d fallen into the flowerbed the night before because she’d suddenly picked up on the sense of wrongness emanating from the rotted floorboards. That open-air corridor was meant to be a way for people to cross safely from one building to another. There shouldn’t have been any danger there. So the sense of wrongness hitting her so hard that it literally knocked her over could only mean that the floorboards were on the verge of caving in, and the corridor was no longer capable of serving its intended function.
Unfortunately for her, Ophelia’s special ability wasn’t only triggered by items.
She also sensed incongruency in the words people spoke. When someone spoke words they knew in their heart to be untrue—in short, when they lied—it caused Ophelia’s body to shake.
Among the nobility, compliments and flattery were unavoidable. For Ophelia, the scrapes and bruises from countless falls were nothing compared to the pain she felt in her heart knowing how others truly felt.
She did her best to avoid people altogether, spending all her time holed up at home, but her father wouldn’t have it and sometimes forced her to attend tea parties with other young ladies her age.
On one such occasion, a group of young ladies of similar rank had gathered together for a tea party held in the incredible gardens at a certain noble family’s manor.
It was common for young ladies to get together like this prior to their society debut so they could form friendships that would benefit them once they entered high society. However, because they were all nobles, the tea party operated under the same rules as any other society function. Faced with the sight of so many girls exchanging bland pleasantries designed to stroke one another’s egos, Ophelia’s entire body had started shaking violently, and she fell face-down on the lawn, unable to get back up. The other girls, disturbed by Ophelia’s peculiar behavior, slowly backed away.
However, one girl reached out her hand to Ophelia.
“Are you okay? If you can walk, I’ll help you back inside the manor. Or if you don’t think you can, I’ll go find an adult to help. What would you like to do?”
The moment the other girl’s hand touched Ophelia’s, her body stopped trembling. Her concern for Ophelia was genuine to the core.
“Th-Thank you… I think I can walk.”
“Really? All right, then, you can hold onto me, and we can take it slow. If you rest indoors out of the sun for a bit, I’m sure you’ll be right as rain in no time!”
The girl supported Ophelia with one hand and brushed the dirt from her face and dress with the other. She had golden blonde hair that formed gentle waves and emerald-green eyes. Her name was Dominica, and she was the daughter of Earl Moreland. Dominica was the same age as Ophelia, and after living at her family’s far-off estate close to the national border, she’d just recently come to stay at the family’s manor here in the Royal City in preparation for her debut.
“Um, Lady Dominica… Don’t you have to get back to the tea party?”
Ophelia had claimed she was feeling unwell, so one of the maids had led the two young ladies to a room overlooking the garden and set out tea for them there. At present, the maid had just left to send word to Ophelia’s father to come pick her up.
“It’s fine. I can’t tolerate being in direct sunlight for a long time. I’d much rather have tea in a shady place like this. So if it’s all right with you, I’ll rest here until your father comes to get you.”
The hand Ophelia was using to hold her teacup trembled faintly. Dominica was staying here simply to avoid leaving Ophelia alone when she wasn’t feeling well. The realization that there was actually such a thing as a “kind lie” had tears welling in Ophelia’s eyes.