Chapter 128: Incident
“Is it because you’re worried about what Sir Vandemir might think that you’re turning me down?” Frederick’s question hung in the air, and Aracila paused, weighing her response.
The phrase “worried about what he might think” felt odd, but it wasn’t entirely wrong. That was, in fact, the reason for her refusal. Her hesitation stemmed from the memory of Damian’s quiet plea, his voice soft but insistent, asking her not to spend time with Frederick. She couldn’t shake the image from her mind. How much must it have troubled him for him to say something like that?
Rather than feeling annoyed by his interference in her relationships, Aracila found herself oddly touched, as if she were looking at a loyal dog, anxious and unwilling to leave its master’s side. That was why she felt compelled to reject Frederick’s invitation all the more firmly.
“Disappointing,” Frederick said, his tone laced with a hint of reproach. “I never took you for someone who’d forsake friendship for love.”
“Don’t exaggerate,” Aracila shot back, her voice sharp but measured. “Love, friendship, whatever you want to call it—I’ve always been the type who’s most comfortable on my own.”
She wasn’t oblivious to the tension between Damian and Frederick, and her retort was calculated, just sharp enough to deflect. It wasn’t entirely a lie, either, and Frederick’s expression wavered, caught between doubt and acceptance. Seizing the moment of his silence, Aracila turned to leave.
“I’m heading inside,” she said, already stepping away. “Do whatever you want.”
Without waiting for his reply, she approached the servant stationed at the entrance. The servant checked the guest list and announced her arrival in a booming voice: “Lady Aracila Vandemir has arrived!”
Frederick stood still, his gaze fixed on her retreating figure—cold, elegant, and untouchable as she stepped into the hall. Aracila felt the weight of his stare prickling at her back but ignored it. She took a champagne flute from a passing tray and found a quiet spot along the edge of the ballroom. Sipping her drink, she scanned the room, taking in the swirl of the crowd.
“Well, well, who do we have here?” A familiar voice broke her reverie.
It was Lucas, his slightly grown-out hair tied back, his signature roguish smile firmly in place.
“Lady Vandemir, it’s been a while,” he said, his tone warm and teasing. “Still as radiant as ever.”
“Your Highness,” Aracila replied, placing a hand over her chest in a polite curtsy.
Though it had been some time since they’d last met, Lucas’s easy familiarity dispelled any awkwardness.
“A pity Sir Vandemir couldn’t join you,” he said, his grin widening. “Truth be told, I was rather looking forward to seeing him.”
“Oh, how disappointing for you,” Aracila replied, her voice playful. “Damian had a particularly dashing cravat prepared for tonight, but I’m the only one who got to see it.”
“Ugh, I’m positively green with envy,” Lucas said, shaking his head with mock dismay.
A mischievous smile tugged at Aracila’s lips as they exchanged a few more lighthearted jabs. Eventually, Lucas excused himself to mingle with the other nobles, leaving her alone once more.
Aracila’s eyes swept the room again, landing on a cluster of young noblewomen her age. Among them, one face stood out, and their eyes met. The other woman flinched slightly, then murmured something to her companions before making her way toward Aracila.
Aracila didn’t move, standing calmly as she waited for the woman to approach.
“Lady Vandemir,” Nora said, her voice quieter and more subdued than it had been in the past. “Have you been well?”
Aracila nodded, her response cool but not unkind. “I should be asking you that, Lady White. Though, from the look of things, you seem to be doing just fine.”
A faint smile curved Aracila’s lips, and Nora pressed her own together, her expression unreadable. Aracila’s calm demeanor, unshaken despite their history, stirred something complex in Nora. You have no idea what I’m going through right now, she thought. You don’t know that this time, I might be the one to drag you into something dangerous.
“You don’t seem fazed at all by seeing me,” Nora said, her voice carefully controlled, though a storm of emotions churned beneath the surface. “Are you truly fine with me returning to society?”
Aracila shrugged, her tone light but sincere. “Why wouldn’t I be? It’s not as if you’re meant to hide away forever.”
She meant it. Whatever Nora had done to her in the past, whatever her reasons for returning to the social scene now, Aracila didn’t believe she had the right to stand in her way. If Nora came looking for a fight, Aracila would meet her head-on, but she had no interest in dictating how Nora should live her life.
“And I hear you’ve been going on about how sorry you are,” Aracila continued, her voice tinged with dry humor. “Though, for all that talk, this is the first time you’ve actually come to me, and I’ve yet to hear a proper apology.”
Nora fell silent, her lips parting but no words coming out.
“But if what you’ve said is true—if you’ve really reflected on things—then I have even less reason to care,” Aracila said. “You’ll live your life as you see fit.”
In truth, even if Nora hadn’t changed, even if she hadn’t let go of her resentment toward Aracila and Damian, as long as she chose to move forward and live differently, she wouldn’t repeat the same mistakes. She’d find her own path, one way or another.
Aracila felt that was enough. She hadn’t orchestrated that whole affair with Nora to force her into repentance in the first place. As long as they no longer had reason to be entangled, that was all that mattered.
Nora’s expression shifted subtly as she sensed the sincerity in Aracila’s words. Her face seemed to hover between a frown and a grimace, as if caught between conflicting emotions. Her hands fidgeted, clutching and releasing the fabric of her dress, and she spoke through dry lips. “Lady Vandemir… have you forgiven me?”
“No,” Aracila replied bluntly.
“Then why would you say something like that…?”
“Honestly, I just don’t care anymore,” Aracila said, her tone matter-of-fact. “Are you still in love with Damian?”
Nora flinched, shaking her head quickly. That, at least, was an unassailable truth—she had let go of her feelings for Damian.
“Then I care even less,” Aracila continued, her voice steady and unyielding. “So, Lady White, how about you stop worrying about us and live your own life? We’ll do the same.”
The matter of revenge was settled, and Aracila held no grudges. She was aware that she needed to keep an eye on Nora to some extent, but as long as Nora didn’t provoke her again, Aracila was indifferent to how she chose to live.
Nora’s grip tightened on her dress, her knuckles whitening. Deep down, she had hoped Aracila would lash out, say something cruel. It would have made what she had to do next feel a little less sordid. But, as always, Aracila acted contrary to Nora’s wishes, and that defiance tormented her unbearably.
“…I should go,” Nora muttered after a long silence, her lips chewed raw. She gave a curt nod and turned abruptly, disappearing into the crowd.
Aracila watched her blend into the throng for a moment before turning her gaze away. Her cool, detached eyes drifted toward the commotion at the top of the grand staircase. There, the star of the evening, Princess Gloria, was descending.
Gloria appeared in a vibrant yellow dress, layered with delicate chiffon that shimmered softly. Intricate silver embroidery accentuated her radiant features, making her face glow. Her honey-blonde hair and emerald-green eyes marked her as both akin to and distinct from her half-siblings, a striking beauty in her own right. The crowd surged toward her, vying for her attention, each guest presenting gifts and showering her with flattery.
Aracila, carrying the gift she had prepared, approached Gloria alongside Frederick. The gift had been commissioned by Frederick on her behalf, after all.
Gloria’s face lit up when she saw Aracila accompanied by her half-brother. “Oh, Lady Vandemir! Thank you so much for coming. I’ve been dying to meet you, and I’m absolutely thrilled!”
“It’s an honor, Your Highness,” Aracila replied, bowing gracefully.
Gloria seemed genuinely intrigued by her, launching into a stream of compliments. She mentioned having heard of Aracila’s reputation since their academy days and went on at length about her admiration. When the conversation turned to business, Aracila presented the gift box Frederick had commissioned for the princess.
“This is a birthday gift, requested by His Highness the Crown Prince,” Aracila said. “I hope it’s to your liking, Your Highness.”
“Really? From Frederick?” Gloria’s eyes widened as she glanced at her brother, clearly surprised, before accepting the box. Frederick wasn’t typically the warm, doting type, so the gesture caught her off guard.
With an expectant smile, Gloria opened the box. Inside was a lamp that seemed to capture the night sky itself, its soft glow mesmerizing. She let out a small squeal of delight. “It’s gorgeous!”
“Happy birthday, Gloria,” Frederick said, his smile warm and gentle, the picture of a caring brother to anyone watching.
“Thank you, Frederick! And thank you, Lady Vandemir!” Gloria beamed, her gratitude directed at both her brother and Aracila, whose craftsmanship had produced a lamp so perfectly suited to her taste.
Aracila felt a quiet sense of pride and fulfillment at Gloria’s reaction. As she stepped back, making way for others eager to present their gifts to the princess, a voice interrupted her thoughts.
“Aracila, can we talk for a moment? I have something important to say.” Frederick’s hand lightly grazed her arm as he spoke in a low, serious tone. His expression was earnest enough to give her pause.
Is this really something important? Aracila wondered. The idea of being alone with him again made her uneasy, but it might be worth hearing him out, just in case. With a small nod, she followed him out of the bustling ballroom.
Nora watched their retreating figures, her eyes shadowed with a heavy, unreadable emotion.
They moved to a quiet lounge, deserted amid the height of the party. The room was empty, its stillness a stark contrast to the lively chatter outside. Aracila settled onto a sofa and looked at Frederick expectantly.
“What’s this about?” she asked.
“There’s something I need to tell you,” he replied, sitting across from her and crossing one leg over the other.
Aracila nodded, signaling for him to go on.
“Lately, I’ve been feeling like things between us aren’t the same,” Frederick said, his voice measured. “You’ve noticed it too, haven’t you?”
Aracila didn’t deny it. It was true—things with Frederick had grown awkward in a way they hadn’t been before. The easy camaraderie she’d once shared with someone like Paula was gone, replaced by a subtle tension she couldn’t quite ignore.
Despite the growing distance, Aracila tried to understand Frederick, clinging to the memories they’d shared at the academy and the seven years of friendship they’d built. But without knowing the true depth of his feelings or the intentions behind his words, understanding him was no easy task.
“Aracila,” Frederick said, his voice soft but insistent, “I don’t want us to drift apart. What we have is special. From the moment we met, it felt like fate.”
“What, two people with no sense of direction crossing paths?” she quipped, her tone light but guarded.
“Of all the people in this world, you’re the most special to me,” he continued, undeterred. His voice, airy and almost too sweet, was like cotton candy, delicate and melting on the tongue.
But Aracila only looked at him, her expression unmoved. She’d heard voices like that before—charming, persuasive—and it stirred nothing in her now. If anything, his sudden outpouring of sentiment, when he’d claimed to have something important to say, felt indulgent and out of place. I shouldn’t have followed him, she thought, exasperated. What’s so important about this that he had to pull me away in the middle of the party?
Before she could respond, Frederick reached out, his hand enveloping hers. The uninvited touch made her brow twitch in irritation. As she tried to pull away, he tightened his grip, his voice fervent, almost pleading. “I mean it, Aracila. Things that would bother me from anyone else don’t when it’s you. Things I wouldn’t give to anyone else, I’d give to you without hesitation. And there was a time I thought you felt the same way about me.”
“Me? About you…?” Her voice trailed off, caught off guard by the intensity of his words.
“It doesn’t matter if you deny it,” he said, his gaze unwavering. “It doesn’t change how I feel about you.”
The weight of his confession, so sudden and heavy, startled her. She’d always considered Frederick a close friend, but she hadn’t realized he held her in such high regard. His words carried an eerie sense of déjà vu, echoing something Paula had once said about him favoring her in a way that went beyond friendship.
Aracila hesitated, her lips parting to respond, when a loud thud reverberated from somewhere nearby.
“…?”
Frederick looked equally bewildered, his head turning toward the sound. Before either could process it, the door burst open without so much as a knock.
“Your Highness, you must take shelter! There’s been an explosion!”
A group of men in the uniforms of the Imperial Knights rushed into the room. Aracila’s eyes narrowed as she studied them, her mind racing. An explosion? Frederick, just as startled, furrowed one brow and demanded, “What do you mean, an explosion?”
“There’s been an unidentified explosion in the main hall, and everyone is evacuating. Your Highness, you need to get to safety immediately!”
Though the lounge was some distance from the hall, there was no telling if the danger was contained. Another explosion could happen anywhere. Urged on by the knights, Frederick rose to his feet. “Let’s go, Aracila!”
He grabbed her hand, pulling her along as they hurried out. The once-quiet corridor was now a chaotic jumble of voices and footsteps. Among the fleeing noblewomen, Aracila’s gaze caught on Nora, and her eyes sharpened. The lounge had been deserted when they’d entered—when had Nora and the others arrived? A faint unease stirred in her chest, but the urgency of the moment left no time to dwell on it.
Surrounded by knights, Aracila and Frederick were ushered into the garden, where the rest of the party’s guests had gathered. From the direction of the banquet hall, tendrils of black smoke curled into the sky.
How could an explosion have happened? Aracila wondered. It was the princess’s birthday, a day when security would have been meticulously planned and tightly enforced. How could something like this have occurred?
As if sensing her unspoken question, Ben Diark, the commander of the Imperial Knights, approached Frederick to deliver a detailed report. With the emperor and empress absent, Frederick, as the crown prince, held the highest rank present. Aracila stood at his side, listening intently as Ben spoke.
As his words sank in, her expression grew steadily more rigid.
─── ･ ｡ﾟ✧: *. ꕥ .* :✧ﾟ. ───
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