In essence, the evening was a courtly ball. Feasting and revelry were merely ornaments—what truly mattered here was the making of acquaintances. The true rulers of Old Dunling would linger behind velvet curtains, savoring their wine in quiet satisfaction, while their heirs—the future masters of the city—stepped onto the dance floor to forge friendships and measure the worth of those who might one day rule beside them.
It was the genuine world of the aristocracy, a realm whose threshold most people would spend their entire lives failing to reach. Even to hear whispers of it was, for many, an honor in itself.
Lloyd breathed slowly and steadily, trying not to move too much. The evening suit was a size too small; wearing it felt as though someone had stuffed him into a sack. If he were to swing his arms with any force, he suspected the fabric would tear apart like prey beneath the claws of a beast.
Under the hands of the attendants he looked years younger. His skin, pale as rendered tallow, had been carefully groomed, and his once-messy hair now lay neatly combed. When he had looked into the mirror earlier, Lloyd had even thought—if only for a fleeting moment—that he might pass as someone's kept companion.
Selu stood beside him, her arm hooked around his. Yet the difference in their height made the pair resemble a father walking with his daughter—though the father, perhaps, looked a bit too young.
"You look like a penguin," Selu whispered.
Though she was clearly speaking to Lloyd, her gaze remained fixed straight ahead, as if she were merely talking to herself.
The black coat and white lining beneath it—well, the resemblance was undeniable.
"You've seen penguins before?" Lloyd asked. He remembered hearing of such creatures: animals discovered by sailors at the southernmost edge of the world.
"They're mentioned in books."
After a brief pause, she added, "Though honestly, you remind me more of an Adélie penguin."
"And what exactly is that?"
"A kind of penguin with… rather difficult behavior to describe," Selu replied calmly. "They often can't judge the danger in the water. So they kick one of their companions in first. If nothing happens, they all rush in together. If some other animal eats it… they scatter and look for another place to enter the sea."
Lloyd's expression darkened immediately.
He turned his head away and glanced at Selu instead. Her attire was elegant—though perhaps a little… excessive. The heavy white gown bloomed around her like a massive white rose. Yet from Lloyd's perspective, she looked rather like someone stuck atop an enormous white cake, dragging the thing forward with great effort, while balancing a platter of precious metals upon her head.
The thought made Lloyd suppress a faint smile.
"Would you like to know what you look like to me?"
"Please behave with some dignity."
The voice came from behind them.
Yavi spoke in a low tone, his expression sour from the very beginning of the evening and no better now.
Lloyd had been chosen out of sheer necessity, and even so Yavi remained uneasy. The old steward regarded the honor of the House of Stuart with the utmost gravity.
Lloyd merely rolled his eyes at him, said nothing more, and led Selu forward.
The ball was being held in the very heart of Old Dunling—indeed, even closer to the center than the inner districts where the wealthy nobles resided. It was a magnificent manor bordering the Royal Quarter, and its master was the evening's host: Duke Salicado.
Old Dunling concealed too many secrets—places such as the mysterious Purging Bureau, the Institute of Mechanics, and the Pillar of the Furnace. These were not places ordinary people could approach. As such, they were placed on the same level of restriction as the Platinum Palace itself, within a district known as the Royal Quarter, guarded by royal troops.
Within that Royal Quarter, not far from the manor, stood the Pillar of the Furnace—or rather, its surface installations.
The estate's grounds were already crowded with carriages and the latest motorcars. Though it was a cold winter night, the grand feast filled the air with warmth. The scent of vanilla drifted through the atmosphere, and everywhere the eye could see shimmered with color and light.
Men and women displayed their charm with practiced ease. Flowing lotus skirts swayed like blossoms blooming in the dead of winter. It was a sea of flowers, their perfumes mingling together until they overwhelmed Lloyd's senses. He nearly sneezed.
Luxury and splendor stretched in every direction, and for a moment Lloyd felt faintly dazed.
It was not that he had never seen such grandeur before. As a former Templar of the Order, Lloyd had once guarded the Cathedral of Saint Naro—and that place was no less magnificent.
The immense pipe organ climbed along the walls like some colossal metallic creature. Grand paintings were etched across the vaulting dome. Thousands upon thousands of candles burned silently in sacred solitude, while only murmured prayers and solemn hymns echoed through the vast space.
The Cathedral of Saint Naro was said to be the largest cathedral in the world. Its construction had begun when the City of Seven Hills was first founded, and it had taken more than six hundred years to complete. Inside, its halls sprawled like a labyrinth, and beneath the earth lay the remains of every pope who had ever ruled.
In terms of sheer magnificence, even the supreme Platinum Palace of Invervig might struggle to rival it.
Yet Lloyd was not making comparisons tonight.
Both places were magnificent—but the cathedral had filled him with sanctity and faith. Sitting there had always felt as though one's soul were being quietly purified.
The splendor here, however, carried the scent of power and wealth. Every person present held some important office, each one a figure of influence and authority.
"Feeling uncomfortable?" Selu asked softly. She could sense the subtle difference in Lloyd.
"Uncomfortable?" Lloyd replied, forcing a polite smile as he greeted strangers he did not know in the slightest.
"Like… a stray dog dragged beneath a spotlight?" Selu said after a moment of thought.
"Your way of describing things is truly baffling," Lloyd said, "but yes. That's exactly it."
He had intended to deny it, but in truth he couldn't find the words. It wasn't as though he had never met powerful people before—but being suddenly thrown into this extravagant circle left him feeling like a fish out of water.
"You'll get used to it," Selu said lightly. "It took me about a week."
She turned her head then, her deep blue eyes settling on Lloyd like a clear and endless sea.
For a fleeting instant, Lloyd felt strangely unsettled beneath that gaze. There was something almost enchanting about the way she looked at people.
Then he understood what she meant—and his expression stiffened slightly.
In truth, Selu was a stray dog too. A small one Lloyd had dragged out of Gaulnaro years ago.
Back then, she had been just like this—an anxious little stray pushed onto the grand stage of the House of Stuart. The discomfort she had felt must have been far greater than Lloyd's now. Perhaps that was why she rarely stayed in her luxurious mansion and instead often came looking for him.
They were both strays, after all.
And for strays, comfort was not found in splendid kennels. It was found in muddy street puddles—where rolling about freely could still bring the simple joy of being alive.
"So what do we do next?" Lloyd asked, deliberately steering the conversation elsewhere.
Selu did not press the matter. She merely pointed casually toward a secluded row of seats.
The ballroom was far larger than Lloyd had imagined. A towering crystal chandelier hung above the center, while waiters drifted through the crowd carrying fine wines freshly brought from the cellars.
One had to admit—the nobles truly knew how to arrange a spectacle. Lloyd did his best to keep the country-bumpkin inside him from showing through.
Selu, however, had little interest in entangling herself with the nobles, and thus chose a quiet corner. Yet to reach it from the entrance, they would have to pass through the crowd—and Lloyd could only hope no one recognized them.
Lloyd himself was hardly famous. At worst, someone might mistake him for a new acquaintance within the social circle.
But Selu was another matter entirely.
In a month's time, she would become the Duchess of the House of Stuart. Behind her stood an entire aristocratic alliance forged through the bonds of war. Whoever earned her favor would, in effect, gain the support of the whole Stuart faction.
If this social ball were a grand lottery, Selu's goodwill would undoubtedly be the first prize.
And if Lloyd had been some ambitious nobleman, he would have used every trick at his disposal to win her over.
Lloyd lowered his head and stared at that glittering heap of precious metal trophies. Who could possibly have imagined that the first prize would end up in his hands?
What merit did he possess to deserve such a thing?
And more importantly—what use was the prize to him anyway? The Nether Purge Agency was watching him like hawks. For all he knew, they might drag him away for "tea" in the middle of the night.
Still, things had gone surprisingly smoothly so far. Perhaps it was because of Selu's almost nonexistent presence—she had been here for quite a while, yet no one had noticed her at all. That saved Lloyd a great deal of trouble. After all, in the grand design of things, Lloyd existed precisely as Selu's shield, the one responsible for politely declining every invitation that came her way.
Just then, however, a hand suddenly blocked Lloyd's path.
His heart skipped.
So they finally noticed me?
Yet the voice that followed took the situation in a direction he had never expected.
"Why, if it isn't Mr. Holmes!"
A heavily made-up noblewoman stood before him, her voice so syrupy sweet that Lloyd felt momentarily dazed.
Wait…
Hold on a second. Something about this development felt wrong.
Shouldn't this be the part where some clueless young noble strolls over to flirt, only to be rejected with elegant humiliation? Why was he the one being approached instead? And how did she know—
Wait!
Lloyd studied the woman's face. It felt strangely familiar. Carefully, he ventured,
"Lady Vanessa?"
The noblewoman's smile deepened at once.
"That's right! I didn't expect you to remember my name." She beamed with delight. "Come, come—what a surprise to see you here. All our old friends are over there."
Without another word, Lady Vanessa seized Lloyd by the arm and dragged him away.
They arrived before a cluster of noblewomen who were already chattering endlessly among themselves. The moment they spotted Lloyd, the group erupted like boiling water.
"It's Mr. Holmes!"
"Come here! It's been ages!"
"Let me introduce him—this is Lloyd Holmes."
"..."
In a haze, Lloyd found himself pulled from one pair of hands to another. Perfumes of every imaginable kind mingled in the air until the scent itself felt suffocating.
The commotion soon attracted attention from nearby guests. Heads turned. No one had expected a single man to receive such enthusiastic welcome. Judging by the name being shouted about, he must be some new acquaintance within their social circle.
But these people were sharp—keen observers of status and influence. They knew perfectly well how difficult those noblewomen were to please. When someone suddenly appeared who could charm them all at once, curiosity was inevitable.
Soon, even this quiet corner became crowded.
"I never realized Mr. Holmes could look so handsome when properly dressed!"
"Mr. Holmes, what did you think about the suggestion I mentioned earlier?"
"Mr. Holmes—"
Their voices fluttered around him like a flock of shrieking birds. Lloyd certainly felt no enjoyment from the attention. He struggled to break free, but every attempt was met with yet another hand pulling him back.
Amid the tightly packed crowd, the nearly invisible Selu slowly lifted her head.
Looking at Lloyd's thoroughly awkward expression, she asked calmly,
"So… you're this popular?"
Lloyd abruptly lowered his head.
The next moment he grabbed Selu's wrist and forced his way out of the crowd, squeezing between bodies while hurriedly explaining—though his face was filled with a very peculiar mixture of embarrassment and resignation.
"Do you remember the nickname I once told you about?"
Selu puffed her cheeks as if trying not to laugh.
Seeing her like that only made Lloyd more uncomfortable. He shook his head helplessly before continuing,
"Allow me to introduce you. Those are the ladies who once hired me. What you're seeing now is the little group they formed afterward."
He paused.
"They call themselves the Saturday Housewives."
A gathering of women whose hearts had been shattered by men—housewives who chose to throw themselves into wild revelry every Saturday night.
And so the noblewomen celebrated this rare reunion, surrounding Lloyd like flowers clustered around their favored bloom.
...
On the second floor of the ballroom, men and women whispered quietly in shadowed corners.
Unlike the roaring dance floor below, this level was calm and subdued. At last, the girl could pause beside the window, gazing outside and savoring a rare breath of freedom.
A few men noticed her.
At first they were uncertain.
But once they saw that blazing, flame-red hair, their hesitation vanished. Like hunters who had spotted their quarry, they slowly approached.
One of them spoke, his voice deliberately warm, wearing the mask of a perfect gentleman.
"Excuse me, beautiful lady…"
The girl slowly turned her head.
At first, a trace of disgust lingered on her face. Yet as if recalling something, her expression shifted swiftly. The next moment she wore a gentle smile—like that of a perfectly polite young lady.
The man's heart leapt with delight.
He had heard countless rumors about her terrible temper and had fully expected rejection. Yet here she was, smiling at him.
Surely this was the first step toward victory.
"May I have the honor of a dance?"
The girl hesitated for a moment.
Then, still smiling, she placed her hand in his.
Feeling the softness of her fingers, the man nearly cried out with excitement. At last—he had succeeded.
Yet the girl herself seemed entirely uninterested in him.
Tilting her head slightly, she glanced toward two figures lingering in the corridor. They appeared to be watching her, inching closer ever since a moment ago.
Without warning, the girl grabbed the man and briskly descended the staircase.
"So—you want to dance with me?"
Halfway down the stairs she suddenly asked.
The man nodded eagerly. In his mind, wealth and glory were already within reach.
Then the girl pointed behind him.
"Those two gentlemen don't seem very eager to let me leave."
At once the man's expression turned fierce. Anyone who dared interfere tonight was, in his eyes, an enemy to be crushed.
He turned and saw the two men—dressed like waiters—coming down the stairs.
"Don't worry," he said confidently. "I'll deal with them."
"Well then, I'll leave it to you."
Eve patted his shoulder with the solemn air of someone entrusting a great mission. As the man strode toward the pair with righteous fury, she slipped into the crowd with a sly, mischievous laugh.
Meanwhile, far above on the third floor, a man leaned against the railing, gazing down at the lively cluster of noblewomen.
His brow slowly furrowed.
"My lord Duke, shall I ask them to quiet down?" a servant asked cautiously.
This ball held many layers of meaning.
The first floor was for entertainment—the grand dance hall where music and laughter flowed freely.
The second floor belonged to the young, where whispered conversations and budding connections formed in the shadows.
But the third floor, heavily guarded, was reserved for those who truly held power. Here, behind velvet curtains and silent corridors, countless interests and decisions would be shaped.
"No need," the duke said slowly.
"I simply feel… that someone down there looks strangely familiar."
Duke Fix spoke in a quiet tone. From such distance he could barely make out the face within that blooming cluster of noblewomen.
Yet in his chest stirred an inexplicable sense of irritation.
A strange, irrational impulse—
As if he suddenly wished to draw a pistol… and fire straight into that crowd.