Chapter 2

Wait, no—! Constance Grail’s mouth was agape, both hands pressed against her cheeks. Inside her head, she was screaming. It was dusk in the garden. A couple was embracing in front of her. Of course, people are free to love whomever they want, and a little cuddling could hardly be called an offense to public morals. There was just one small problem. The man was her fiancé. It all began several months earlier, because, like all viscounts from this family, the eleventh viscount was sincere. The great Percival Grail, hero of the Ten Years’ War with the neighboring kingdom of Faris and first Grail viscount, had once been asked the secret to victory, and his answer had become the Grail family motto: “Thou shalt be sincere.” Needless to say, Percival Ethel Grail, Constance’s father and the current master of the house, was no exception. If anything, he had taken those words too much to heart. For instance, he was so sincere that when a friend came to him crying and begging for his help, he agreed to be the guarantor for a suspicious loan and ended up responsible for loads of debt. Incidentally, the friend promptly vanished, and there hadn’t been as much as a rumor of his whereabouts since. To underline the point, the Grail family had not two, not three, but one single motto: sincerity. That, plus simplicity and thrift. They viewed luxury as an outrage and immediately redistributed to the commoners any profit they made off their land. Thanks to this detestable tradition that the family had been meticulously implementing since the days of Percival Grail the First, they had no savings whatsoever. “In other words…” Finishing up his explanation of the situation, Percival Ethel turned to his daughter with a solemn expression. Connie gulped. “I-in other words…?” “I don’t have any money to pay.” The fate of the Grail family was hanging by a thread. It appeared they were in dire need of cash. It was Damian Bronson, a businessman who had befriended the Grails on his frequent visits to their home, who heard the rumors and extended a helping hand. “It seems you’re in quite a difficult situation,” he’d said. Damian was the third generation to helm the Bronson family business and had been granted the title of baronet. He, however, was not a nobleman. Although baronets were treated better than commoners, they could socialize only in limited circles. The Bronson Company was a well-respected old firm headquartered on Anastasia Street in the capital, with several branches in the provinces. Business was stable. Too stable, in fact—it never branched out in novel directions. Which was exactly why the company needed new connections. “You’re so utterly trusting, sir,” Damian went on. “I believe you need someone by your side who can help you keep an eye on your interests. As it happens, I have a son…” Neil Bronson, his seventeen-year-old progeny. And so, very soon, an engagement was arranged. “Are you sure you don’t mind?” Connie’s father asked her repeatedly, but she wasn’t particularly dissatisfied with the arrangement. The family was up to its ears in debt, and as the oldest child, she felt the opportunity was the best she could hope for. Her looks weren’t exactly striking, but Connie was still a nobleman’s daughter. Of course, she had dreamed of marrying for love. Very much so, in fact. The book about how Crown Prince Enrique and Crown Princess Cecilia fell in love despite their mismatched social status was practically her bible. But none of that mattered in comparison to the survival of her family. Plus, it wasn’t as if everyone in the world could marry for love. That was especially true for a plain, meek, withdrawn girl like her. Neil Bronson was tall, handsome, and gentlemanly. Connie thought it would be just fine for a person like him to become her husband. She truly did. That is, until she heard he was head over heels for another woman. “Pamela Francis?” “Yes. Apparently, Neil Bronson is simply mad for her. I heard someone saw them kissing off in the shadows. But isn’t he your fiancé?” She’d learned this exactly one week before the incident, from a young lady she knew. “Neil and Pamela…” Pamela Francis was an extremely attractive young lady. She was always surrounded by admirers, and handsome men were unfailingly among the crowd. The amazing thing about Pamela was that even though she wasn’t unusually beautiful to start with, she knew just how to make herself look prettier than everyone else. Her soft platinum-blond hair was always skillfully braided, and she got her evening gowns at the Moonlight Fairy, the high-end dressmaker whose creations were the envy of every nobleman’s daughter. “I hear Pamela goes through men as quickly as you and I change partners at a ball.” That was a terrifying thing to imagine. Connie trembled at the thought. How could a mousy viscount’s daughter possibly compete? Plus, even though they were only barons, the Francis family had made a fortune far greater than the Grails could ever hope for. They traded in ore mined in the kingdom. Pamela would probably make an ideal daughter-in-law for the Bronson Company. They would get the noble connections they longed for, and they might even get the rights to the ore. That was far better than marrying into the family of a poor nobleman whose only saving grace was sincerity. Connie looked up at the sky. If she hadn’t, her eyes might have spilled over and disgraced her. She couldn’t talk to her father about it. That was out of the question. After all, the engagement had already been finalized. Just the other day, she and Neil had gone to the church with their parents to make their oaths. Now they were marking time until the wedding while they made the engagement public. Most likely, the announcement had already reached the whole kingdom. The very idea of accusing Neil of infidelity now was unthinkable. Of course, if Connie raised an objection, the engagement could probably be broken off. But if that happened, her family wouldn’t be able to pay off their debts. And if the situation became public, her thoroughly sincere father would no doubt drag his dusty old rifle out from the back of the closet and throw down a white glove at Neil’s feet. In other words, either Neil or her father would end up dead. Somebody save me… She was only sixteen, but her life was at a dead end. Ultimately, no one answered Constance Grail’s plea for help, and she ended up witnessing a most shocking scene—but let us begin an hour or two earlier. “Congratulations on your engagement, Miss Grail.” “Thank you very much.” “I must say—marriage is like being thrown into a nicely maintained dungeon. Welcome to our pigpen, newborn piglet. Make yourself at home.” “Um… Thank you?” The person who delivered this less-than-celebratory congratulations was the somewhat difficult countess Emanuel. “I heard you got engaged, Constance!” “Yes, it’s true.” “Oh, how lovely! I know we’re not the closest of friends, but I do hope you’ll invite me to the wedding!” “Uh, um, yes, of course.” “How wonderful! By the way, I’ve been wanting some of that silk the Bronson Company is selling only in the capital.” “…Um, I’ll make sure it’s in your wedding favors…” Baroness Borden was her usual calculating self. “I heard the news, Connie! But that Neil Bronson you’re engaged to, isn’t he the one everyone says is running around with Pamela? You simply must tell me all the details!” “I’d like to know them myself.” The sassy, insensitive Mylene, a viscount’s daughter like Connie, adored gossip. A week had passed since Connie first heard the rumor. Her engagement was the talk of the town, but she hadn’t been brave enough to confirm whether or not the rumor was true. Around that time, she was invited to a ball at the Grand Merillian, on the grounds of Moldavite Palace. The host, Viscount Dominic Hamsworth, was in high spirits as he theatrically offered up his gratitude to the Moirai, the three Fates. In addition to being the head of a noble family, the viscount was a priest, which was unusual. He was the youngest of five children and, ever since childhood, had spent all his time at church. But shortly after he reached adulthood, an epidemic had swept through the kingdom, killing his parents and all his siblings. For this reason, he had taken over as viscount even though he was already a priest. The church’s teachings on the virtues of poverty must not have suited him, because as soon as he became viscount, he took up a life of dissipation. Rumor had it the only reason he hadn’t been stripped of his priest’s robes was because he donated cartloads of cash to the church. The Hamsworths were unusually wealthy, thanks to their lush lands. If they weren’t, they would never have been able to host a ball at the Grand Merillian. There were two detached buildings in the sprawling gardens surrounding Moldavite Palace, where the king and queen lived. One was the Elbaite Villa, residence of the crown prince and princess. It had been built recently—simple but outfitted with all the latest conveniences. The other was the Grand Merillian, a lavish pleasure palace built in the prosperous reign of King Michelinus. Today it was a tourist attraction, and during the social season, any noble family with a history going back at least three generations was permitted to rent the grand hall to throw balls. That said, the rental fee was through the roof and came with reams of restrictions, which meant any sensible nobles who lived in townhouses would never consider it. Incidentally, the grand hall at the Grand Merillian was the stage upon which His Highness Enrique had condemned Scarlett Castiel—the notorious sinner—for her crimes. Since that was also the moment when he’d broken off his engagement to Scarlett and announced his engagement to Crown Princess Cecilia, who at the time was still a viscount’s daughter, the hall had become one of the capital’s hubs for starry-eyed romantics. The hall sparkled with candlelight refracted from its magnificent chandeliers. Guests had gathered to dance in the center of the room, matching their lively steps to the musicians’ melodies. Refreshments were set out in the four corners of the room, and those who weren’t dancing—Connie included—stood around with drinks in hand, chatting elegantly. “Congratulations, Constance.” “Thank you very much.” An endless stream of acquaintances came to congratulate her, mostly because her engagement had just been publicly announced. Answering them all with a smile was no easy job. Since she was fairly certain that she’d greeted everyone she knew personally, she figured taking a brief moment to herself would be forgivable. Neil had disappeared from the table where she’d spotted him playing cards with his gentleman friends, so she assumed he must be off taking a break somewhere, too. She slipped out of the grand hall and into the conservatory. The glassed-in room with white wooden window frames was overflowing with unusual southern flowers and exotic plants. Even the ceiling was made of glass, and she could see the stars twinkling brightly overhead. Some of the windows must have been open, because a cool breeze tickled her flushed skin. People might laugh and call her a fool, but the truth was, she still trusted Neil. After all, they’d already exchanged their oaths at church and publicly announced the engagement. If he really loved Pamela, wouldn’t he have done something before all of that happened? Plus, Neil was acting completely normal. He was kind to Connie. Just today, he’d told her that her dress looked nice on her. And she hadn’t heard about Pamela directly from him. Wouldn’t it be a bit insincere of her to believe the rumors over him? He’d come to fetch her for the ball in his carriage and escorted her in when they got there. The rumors must be a simple misunderstanding. Either that or completely unfounded nonsense. Definitely. That had to be it. When she thought about it in those terms, she felt a little better. She might even be able to dance a Viennese waltz in triple time. Thinking she would shut the open window before heading back to the grand hall, she began to search for the source of the breeze. That was when she realized it wasn’t a window at all but instead a door to the garden that had been left slightly ajar. When she got close, she could see two figures near the shadowy bushes beyond the glass. Who could they be? She squinted—and then screamed. In her mind. Wait, no—! The couple embracing before her eyes were two people Connie knew well. The precise two people she least wanted to see together right now. Neil Bronson and Pamela Francis. Pamela was the one who noticed Connie standing there gaping at them. She must have sensed Connie’s eyes on her because she suddenly looked up at her from her position in Neil’s arms. They were on the palace grounds, and an even row of lamps illuminated them. Connie could see very clearly how flushed her rosy cheeks were. Their eyes met. They definitely met. But for some reason, despite being caught in the act of infidelity, Pamela gazed coolly back at Connie. The corners of her lips curled up provocatively. Then she wrapped her arm around Neil’s neck and slowly brought her lips to his face. There’s simply no way. Connie was in the passage leading from the conservatory to the grand hall, propped up by one arm against an opulently decorated marble pillar, her head drooping. Now that I’ve seen them, what in the world do they want me to do? If this were a popular romance novel, the standard reaction would be to scream, How dare you! at the offending woman and slap her on both cheeks, or else bear down on the unfaithful man with a knife in hand, declaring, I’ll murder you and die myself…! but both those options seemed a little advanced for a rookie like Connie. She was fairly sure Neil didn’t know she’d witnessed him cheating on her. “I wish I could pretend I never saw it…,” she muttered to herself. After all, theirs wasn’t a romantic marriage to start with. His family wanted connections to the world of nobles, and her family wanted to pay off their debts. She should have known from the start that love had no part in it. “My heart did flutter a bit, I’ll admit. I mean, he’s so handsome! And so kind. But it was only a little splash of excitement—only a few tiny drops. I couldn’t care less about something like this. In fact, I’m not hurt at all…” The conditions of the marriage being what they were, she didn’t want to make an unnecessary fuss. Nevertheless. “It might not be sincere of me to stay quiet about what I know…” Thou shalt be sincere—that was the family motto. She wanted to pretend she’d never seen Neil cheating on her, but in order to build the foundation for a sincere relationship with Neil as her life partner, she felt like she had to gather up her courage and confront him. Plus, he was the one at fault. It was hard to imagine he would break off the engagement from his side. Only the infamous Scarlett would deserve something like that. Scarlett Castiel, wicked woman without equal. She had gone from merely harassing her opponent in love—the viscount’s daughter Cecilia Luze—to plotting her assassination. Everybody knew the story of how she had lost her fiancé, the prince, and ended up being executed for her cruel actions. That story was entirely different from Connie’s. “…I’m ready.” She would start by confronting Neil. They’d talk and decide together what to do. Yes, that was best. Having determined that was the sincerest path and resolved to take it, she looked up. Then she screamed. “Eek!” A girl was standing in front of her. Probably because Connie was so deep in thought, she hadn’t even noticed her approach. She appeared to be about the same age as Connie. She wasn’t looking at her, but instead in the direction of the music and laughter coming from the hall. Her expression looked vaguely wistful. “Um…” Connie was about to ask if something was wrong, but instead she gasped. The girl was incredibly beautiful. She had glossy black hair and skin as white and translucent as unblemished snow. The dress encasing white skin was a fiery scarlet. And her eyes—her jewellike eyes were like unblemished amethysts. In this land, purple eyes were associated with royalty, as many members of the royal family had them. Connie ran through the current roster of royalty, but she couldn’t come up with anyone this girl’s age. The only other people with purple or even purplish eyes were from families with royalty in their lineage. Which meant this girl was of quite high birth. Thinking back on the revelers in the grand hall, Connie realized that none was higher than a marquis. The Hamsworths might be filthy rich, but they were still viscounts. Other than at the huge balls held by the royal family, higher- and lower-ranking nobles didn’t mingle with each other much. Most of the guests tonight were either viscounts or barons. The eccentric, confident countess Emanuel was the only person of her rank present. But a certain number of high nobles actually preferred the evening parties of the lower ranks. Sometimes these high-ranking nobles would sneak into such balls incognito. Connie guessed that the girl with the amethyst eyes must belong to that category. “Um… I’m Constance Grail. I don’t mean to be rude, but do you feel all right? Shall I call someone?” she asked, stepping forward. Suddenly, though, she flushed and looked away. The neck of the girl’s scarlet dress was cut low to reveal a large swath of her pillowy breasts. She was the same age as Connie; how did she ooze such indescribable allure? Fashionable dresses these days usually had high necklines meant to emphasize the chastity of their wearers. In that sense, the design was a bit outdated, yet it didn’t look at all unsophisticated. In fact, it suited this girl with her gorgeous, willful face perfectly. It didn’t strike Connie as the least bit vulgar—just overwhelmingly beautiful. If this girl showed up in the grand hall and smiled even once, Connie was sure fashion trends would change instantly. “…It looks so fun, doesn’t it?” The sound of her voice snapped Connie out of her trance. The girl was still gazing into the grand hall. “Won’t you go in?” The question had seemed logical to Connie, but the girl looked puzzled and tilted her head. “Would that be all right?” Now Connie was the one who felt confused. “Of course it would be,” she said. There was no reason for it not to be. She gestured toward the hall, and the girl stepped unsteadily forward. She looked like she might totter right over. She walked across the line dividing the corridor from the grand hall, then suddenly froze. “…I was able to go in!” Of course she was. But she sounded so surprised about the fact that Connie began to feel suspicious. Before she’d thought the girl had had a few too many drinks, but now she wondered if she’d taken some kind of illegal hallucinogen.