“Did you two hear the news?”
“What news?”
“Right, you’ve been here all day, so I suppose you haven’t.”
He glanced around, then leaned in and lowered his voice as though sharing a secret.
“More than half the candidates who went to take the advanced promotion exam dropped out before the end.”
“…What? More than half dropped out?”
Thirty-five students had been sitting the advanced promotion exam that year.
The knights stared in stunned disbelief, mouths hanging open.
When they had taken their own exams, the dropout rate had never been anything close to that.
“Just who was the examiner, anyway?”
“Johannes, apparently.”
The examiner’s identity was kept strictly confidential until the day of the exam itself. But by the time the test reached its halfway point, the candidates who had already been eliminated would return to the ducal castle — and word would travel with them.
“Tough luck.”
The knights shook their heads.
That year, only eight candidates passed the Arachrene House advanced promotion exam in its entirety.
It was the lowest pass rate in recorded history — and the year that produced the most exceptional talent the house had ever seen.
⁂
A languid afternoon.
The office of Duke Marcella.
Duke Marcella, who had been idling away the hours with all the energy of a man with nowhere to be, let out a long, drawn-out sigh as he stared up at the ceiling.
“God, I’m bored.”
“…Your Grace. Please do some work. I’m begging you.”
“….”
“Why are you like this? You’ve had more than enough time to play.”
His butler, Roki, delivered the rebuke with a sour expression. In response, Duke Marcella’s golden eyes narrowed ever so slightly.
“Insolent.”
“….”
“You get more insolent by the day, Roki. I wonder who made you this way.”
“You did, Your Grace.”
Roki answered without looking up from his work.
“Fair enough.”
Duke Marcella nodded, conceding the point without a trace of shame.
“What would I do without you.”
“Does that mean I’ll be getting a raise?”
“Don’t push it, Roki. That’s what salary negotiations are for — you should have brought it up then.”
Duke Marcella shot the idea down in an instant.
And yet the man is practically drowning in money.
Roki thought it privately, keeping his face composed. For all that wealth flowed through this house like water, Duke Marcella could be surprisingly firm when it came to these small matters.
“Besides, I’m currently sitting with a rather troublesome problem on my hands.”
There was some truth to the duke’s words. He genuinely was troubled — even if he wasn’t doing anything about it.
“Haah. …The Arachrene family making a move into the capital. Ever since the night I let Pernoa stay over, the Empress has been watching me, and I’m half out of my mind trying to manage it.”
“You seemed quite at ease talking to Her Majesty when I observed, Your Grace.”
“Only because I’m good at keeping a straight face.”
Duke Marcella smiled — bright, shameless, and entirely pleased with himself. Roki ignored it with practiced ease.
It wasn’t as though this were anything new.
“But I was the one who invited Pernoa in the first place, so I’m the one who has to sort it out. What else can I do.”
“A very sensible attitude, Your Grace.”
“Hmm. Still, it gives me a headache.”
“What else?”
“I can’t for the life of me figure out what to get my dear niece for her birthday.”
He wanted it to be something grand — something she could show off proudly anywhere, something anyone would admire.
After she’d gone and sent him something this charming, it was only right.
“Mm, I’m lonely.”
Perhaps he really ought to have gotten married after all.
Duke Marcella smiled faintly to himself and unfolded the invitation that had arrived that morning. He had already received the formal one from Pernoa — but tucked inside the envelope alongside it was something else.
She must have pestered her father into sending this.
He drew out a second invitation.
No wonder the envelope had felt rather thick.
Written in careful, neat handwriting that could only belong to Riersha, there was another invitation entirely.
The cover was dressed up in all the proper formality — but the inside, clearly decorated by the child herself, was charmingly, unmistakably handmade.
To Uncle Marcella,
You are invited to Riersha Arachrene’s birthday party!
Riersha will be waiting for you at the party!
You’re welcome to come with just your heart — no present needed!
Date: August 2nd
Venue: Arachrene Ducal Castle, South Banquet Hall (the one with the blue roof)
Directions: Please see the map below!
— Riersha —
“What a crafty little niece.”
Duke Marcella had been studying the surprisingly detailed map when he finally burst out laughing.
And just like that, Riersha’s fourth birthday drew near.
⁂
One week before the party.
The birthday girl herself was extraordinarily busy.
“Miss Riersha! Which dress would you like to try first?”
“The accessories are over here!”
“There’ll be a mid-party change, so we’ll also need a second outfit ready —”
The designers who had been invited for the occasion filed in one after another, carrying armful after armful of dresses on display.
Riersha could barely keep up.
Every single one was dazzlingly, overwhelmingly magnificent.
…It’s blinding!
Gown after gown glittered and sparkled before her eyes, more lavish than the last.
“Do I hafta try on all of these?”
“No, no. We’ll only have you try on the ones that catch your eye.”
Riersha had asked with a look of faint horror on her face, and Sona laughed as she explained.
“Still, there’s so many…”
A cold sweat threatened to break out. There were simply too many options — she had no idea where to begin.
Sona, reading the overwhelmed look on her face, pulled a thoughtful expression.
“Hmm. Everything suits you beautifully, Miss Riersha, but… this is also the occasion where you’ll be formally introduced as the house’s heir. What do you think about a dress that reflects the house’s symbol?”
“The house’s symbol?”
“Yes. Arachrene’s symbols are silver hair and red eyes, so…”
Silver hair.
Riersha flinched at the words.
Her own hair was pink.
The child’s expression in the mirror shifted — careful, tentative, guarded.
Riersha hesitated, then slowly reached up to touch her hair.
“Is it okay, even so?”
“Why wouldn’t it be?”
“But I’m…”
The memory surfaced: the time she had dyed her hair silver, trying to look like the rest of her family.
That longing had been real — the quiet, desperate hope to belong among them, to blend in.
People might think it’s strange.
If someone asked why only her hair was pink — what would she say then?
As Riersha let the anxiety she’d kept so carefully buried rise to the surface, Sona went still, her expression shifting to something startled and soft.
Nobility placed great weight on bloodline. Sooner or later, people in society would talk.
“I’m never gonna have silver hair, am I?”
“That’s…”
Sona hesitated, unsure of what to say.
She knew this wasn’t the kind of worry she could answer — not her place to offer a solution, not her pain to resolve.
Riersha was still gazing up at her, waiting, when Sona parted her lips —
“No. You never will.”
The door opened, and Pernoa stepped inside.
Riersha spun around, startled, and found him in the mirror’s reflection.
“…Father?”
“That troubles me.”
“….”
“You should be proud of what you were born with, Riersha.”
The words — that her worry itself was what saddened him — crossed Riersha’s face like a small shock.
And just like that, everything she had been fretting over dissolved, quiet and complete, like snow melting in warm hands.
“No one in this castle will ever have your color. It belongs to you alone.”
“It’s mine… only mine?”
“That’s right.”
Riersha looked up at him with a puzzled, wondering expression.
Pernoa clicked his tongue inwardly.
Listening to someone’s worries and offering comfort — it wasn’t something he had much practice with either.
And so he chose to handle Riersha’s doubts in the only way he knew.
“In one week, you’ll receive the family name and the authority that comes with it.”
“….”
“Who is it that acknowledges you?”
“Grandfather…”
“Then what does that make anyone who questions it?”
Riersha’s eyes went wide at the question.
To cast doubt on an heir personally recognized by the duke was nothing short of a challenge to the Arachrene house itself.
As he watched the confidence slowly return to Riersha’s expression, Pernoa smiled — brief, quiet.
“Now then. Let’s get started.”
Pernoa crossed the room and settled onto the sofa, crossing one leg over the other.
Only then did Riersha remember — she had been in the middle of choosing a dress.
And she realized something else, too: that her father had made the time to come here on purpose.
