THE next morning, I ate breakfast with Prince Rena as usual. Since she seemed awfully worried about her growing chest, I opted to provide a nutritious and healthy breakfast. I served what was left of yesterday’s French onion soup paired with spelt, apple, and beet salad.
Spelt was an ancient, relict grain. I soaked them overnight in water and boiled them, and they were ready to eat like other grains. I’d left my debutante ball invitation out on the table, and the prince glanced at it before she turned to me apologetically.
“Are you making your debut this year?” she asked.
“I am,” I replied.
A lady could make her debut between the ages of sixteen and nineteen. It was up to her family to decide upon the perfect timing.
“I’m actually going to attend this year, too,” Prince Rena said.
“Really?!” I asked with surprise.
Since the prince had her own issues, I should’ve just let it slide, but I couldn’t hide my utter shock.
“The king won’t be in attendance this year, so I have to go instead…” she said.
The crown prince’s public debut was typically held when the royal turned twenty, and until then, Prince Rena had said that she would avoid public occasions, but the queen had urged her to be there this time.
“His Majesty also told me to do the crown prince’s ceremony there, too,” she added.
“His Majesty won’t be in attendance, but he still wants you to do it?”
“Yeah…”
It was apparently exceedingly rare for a king to be absent from a societal debut event. He thus suggested conducting the crown prince’s ceremony there to put everyone’s mind at ease.
“I’ve been hiding my identity at school until now, but if I do that ceremony, there’s really no way to keep that up,” Prince Rena said.
Er… Honestly, I don’t think you’ve been fooling anyone, I thought. They’ve noticed; they’re just turning the other way. Prince Rena couldn’t possibly hide her royal aura and grace.
“I knew that some girls at this school would make their debuts this year, but I didn’t know you would, too, Misha,” Prince Rena said.
“Well, I didn’t plan on attending at first,” I admitted. “But my private instructor convinced me otherwise.”
“You planned on skipping it?”
“Yes.”
She stared at me, befuddled, further lending credence to the fact that it was rare for noblewomen to miss a debutante ball.
“An instructor who could convince you must be a very good one,” Prince Rena said. “What dorm are they from?”
“I don’t know.”
“What’s their name?”
“Mr. Vil.”
“Vil?”
Since he visits every day to teach me, maybe he doesn’t belong to any set dorm, but what do I know?
“He gives you private lessons?” Prince Rena asked incredulously. “I can’t believe it.”
“Is that weird?” I asked.
“Yeah. Private instructors still generally teach two or three students at a time. Students don’t get to have one all to themselves.” She insisted that no instructor would teach only one student for a few hours at a time. “Who in the world is he?” she wondered.
“I don’t know, but I’ve been told that he works under Professor Whipp,” I said. “I don’t think he’s anyone suspicious or anything like that.”
“Professor Whipp… Ah, she counts as a special researcher at Vizer, so perhaps he assists her in that line of work.”
“Maybe.”
I decided not to pry deeper into Mr. Vil’s identity for now, but I recalled him mentioning that he was good friends with Prince Rena.
“Huh…” I muttered.
“What’s wrong?” Prince Rena asked.
“Hm? Oh, nothing.”
She must have enough on her plate as it is. It’s probably best if I didn’t pursue this topic further. The best course of action in my mind was to turn a blind eye.