As I emerged with a full stomach and a content heart, my aunt was waiting, clearly annoyed.
"Dory! Why are you only coming out now? His Highness didn't look pleased—did you upset him?"
This is a bit too much.
"Aunt, do you really think it's more likely that I upset His Highness, or that he was already in a bad mood to begin with?"
"…Don't go around saying such things."
As expected, she couldn't refute me. Lowering her voice, she continued.
"What were you talking about earlier? Do you think we can bring good news to your parents?"
"I told him I'm his fiancée and that I'll always be waiting for him."
"Stop repeating that. I've heard it enough to memorize it myself."
Here and there, I noticed several ladies being approached for dances. The sight made my aunt fidget nervously, shooting questions at me.
"His Highness Tristan will come this way, won't he? He wouldn't leave his fiancée to wither like a wallflower even at the palace, right?"
"There are so many women at this ball today. Even if I don't get a single dance, it wouldn't be shameful."
"Stop saying such things! If His Highness doesn't come, I'll drag another man over myself!"
Her voice rose again, but no one around seemed to pay attention. That's because most of the eyes in the hall were focused on one place.
Arthur Albion. The season's greatest catch.
"Pardon me. Excuse me for a moment."
Though he could've used his bear-like build to plow through the crowd, he bowed his head to every person in his way as he made his way forward. It was obvious who his gaze was fixed upon.
The woman who had become the season's hottest topic due to her beauty and low status—Maria Meyer.
It was truly a meeting of headlines.
In the original story, early on, when the two reunited in the botanical garden, they pretended not to know each other at first. Maria wanted to maintain her distance, knowing that their teenage friendship couldn't bridge the gulf between a lower noble and the soon-to-be Duke of the North. She thought that rekindling old feelings would only lead to heartache.
Arthur, however, regretted pretending not to recognize her. Over the five years since she left the North, he had never once forgotten her.
Even though the harsh blizzards of Frost Hill may have covered your footsteps, your every step remains etched in my heart—from the day we played by the stream and soiled the carpet, to the day you left the snowy fields behind.
He came to a conclusion after much inner turmoil:
Do I leave traces in your heart too? Just once, let me confirm it.
By society's standards, he was insane. What would he gain from confirming that without even proposing?
Maria, meanwhile, had planned to quietly attend the ball, so Arthur's interest was utterly bewildering. She tried to ignore his gaze and look around, but no other man dared to approach her. Anyone who so much as shifted towards her was met with Arthur's silent "Do you even know how to fight?" glare.
No one wanted to risk it. Why not wait for the next chance instead of provoking a duke-to-be?
Besides, if someone did interrupt, it might be seen as insubordination.
Which meant…
Right here, in this very room, the only man capable of reducing Arthur Albion to a dog chasing after a chicken was Tristan.
It seemed Maria made the same calculation as in the original story.
"E-excuse me, Your Highness Tristan!"
At her soft voice, Tristan turned his head. His silver hair shimmered, drawing attention to his position, and Maria hurriedly moved toward him.
It was considered odd for a lady to ask a man for a dance, but this wasn't the time for such concerns.
"Your Highness, during the last ball, you mentioned dancing again. Do you perhaps…remember?"
He should make up the memory if it doesn't exist!
The Tristan from the original story immediately nodded and, with an annoyingly smug smile, knelt dramatically in front of Maria to request the dance.
Maria instantly regretted her decision, but by then, it was too late. Tristan swept her into the hall, practically carrying her as they began their dance, all while Arthur glared at them with blazing jealousy from the sidelines.
…At least, that was how it should have gone.
Even though I had replayed this part of the story dozens of times in my head, Tristan and Maria only stood awkwardly, facing each other. The plot wasn't advancing at all.
Tristan, why are you hesitating? The woman you used to chase after is the one approaching you now. Shouldn't you be thrilled?
The silence between them stretched so long it began to spread through the crowd. The tension made Maria's face grow redder and redder.
Aaagh! This is so secondhand embarrassing I can't stand it! Tristan, just say something, anything!
Perhaps my mental scream reached him because Tristan, after briefly meeting my eyes, finally opened his mouth.
Please accept her request. You're good at smooth-talking, aren't you? Please, just this once—
"I have a fiancée who warmly watches over me, so…could we postpone that promise for another time?"
…What the heck was that?
My mind went blank, and the only thought echoing in the void was:
It's obvious that I'm not "warmly watching over you". I'm glaring at you.
By now, Tristan had started walking toward me, Maria following behind him, and Arthur trailing behind her…
What is this, a human train?
Just as I was about to bolt out of there, a commanding voice echoed through the hall.
"Tristan, stop right there."
It was Her Majesty the Queen.
Tristan stopped in his tracks and turned toward her.
"Mother?"
"You invited Miss Meyer to dance first, did you not? It's hardly appropriate to abandon her now."
"I lack the boldness to share my first dance with another lady while my fiancée is present."
His shamelessness must have amazed everyone in the hall. After ignoring me for years, he says that now?
The Queen, seemingly amused by her youngest son's excuse, chuckled softly.
"Let's see. I suspect you're more worried about me than your fiancée. However, considering the purpose of this ball, wouldn't it be fitting to escort one of this year's debutantes? Your fiancée would understand, I'm sure. Isn't that right?"
The Queen's gaze shifted to me. Of course, I nodded with all the conviction I could muster.
Though Tristan hesitated for a moment, he eventually couldn't ignore Maria's increasingly tomato-red face.
As he bowed to her, his silver hair falling gracefully, he spoke with a soft voice.
"Lady Maria Meyer, may I have the honor of the first dance with you at tonight's ball?"
"Y-Yes!"
Maria lightly placed her gloved hand on Tristan's palm.
This part of the original description came to mind:
"Tristan, like a carnivorous plant discovering a fly, greedily tightened his fingers around her glove. For the smug prince, it surely didn't matter that the silk gloves were Maria's only pair…"
I remember the scene so vividly because it was so heartbreaking to witness.
But once again, reality diverged from the original depiction.
Handling her hand as if it were something entrusted to him for safekeeping, Tristan simply led her to the center of the hall. Their hands barely touched, maintaining a composed and detached connection.
Why was this happening?
In the original storyline, this was the moment where Tristan arrogantly basked in his perceived superiority, while Arthur realized the depth of his unresolved love for Maria, all while the audience watched in awe.
Yet, now the two stood in the center of the hall with a professional and understated demeanor. The combination of the silver-haired prince and the golden-haired beauty was undeniably breathtaking, enough to draw sighs of admiration from the chaperones who, for once, set aside their usual gossip to murmur, "They look truly perfect together."
Other pairs began gathering around them as the first waltz prepared to start. Meanwhile, Arthur Albion remained firmly rooted in place, drawing curious glances from the more experienced chaperones.
In most social gatherings like this, male participants were expected to dance with several ladies to ensure everyone had a chance to partake. A bold chaperone approached Arthur, likely offering her charge as a potential partner.
Arthur, however, shook his head.
In the original storyline, this would have been the moment when Arthur fiercely glared at Tristan, seething with jealousy. But his eyes now held an inexplicable emotion as they scanned the crowd.
And then, he found me.
"Lady, may I know your name?"
"Um, I'm Dory Redfield."
"Miss Redfield, may I have a dance with you?"
Why me, of all people?!
I wanted to run, but embarrassing the male lead in front of everyone wouldn't do me any good. Besides, the queen's increasingly furrowed brow left me with little choice but to nod.
Arthur's large hand, clumsily but gently, guided me to the dance floor.
The solo piano introduction signaled the start of the song, quickly joined by lively woodwinds that filled the hall with a cheerful rhythm. Around us, feet began to move gracefully in time with the music.
Arthur spoke hesitantly, almost awkwardly. "I'm not very skilled at dancing, so I apologize in advance if I step on your feet."
"Don't worry, I'll step on yours first if it comes to that. I'm no expert either."
"Is that so?"
"…Yes."
You really don't want to continue this conversation, do you?
I glanced at his face. Arthur's eyes were searching beyond my shoulder, as though looking for someone else.
"Your Grace, are you by any chance looking for Lady Maria…?"
"…Er, does it show that much?"
"Yes."
His face turned crimson, and he bowed his head low. "My apologies. I'll focus on my current partner."
"Please do. I'd prefer not to have my feet stepped on again."
Despite my words, I found myself oddly pleased.
Wasn't the first sign of deviation in transmigration stories like this when the male lead started focusing on the wrong person?
But Arthur's intentions seemed steady, so I felt reassured!
…Even though the pain in my foot told a different story.
While I gritted my teeth and endured the dance, Arthur began sneaking glances over my shoulder again.
Oh, come on! Focus here!
"Your Grace, are you looking at Lady Maria again?"
Arthur stammered, avoiding a direct answer. "Well, no, it's just something over there… ahem, it's nothing."