Princess Melissa, who had been watching the proceedings in quiet attentiveness, spoke.
“Impressive. That device of yours is something extraordinary. But I have one question, Lady Rüschino.”
“Please — go ahead.”
“Magical tools typically operate through magic force — that’s the norm. Is there a particular reason you chose to use holy power? Or is it that the device you developed can only be activated by holy power?”
Nobles nearby nodded. They had been wondering the same thing. Kasha answered simply.
“Neither, actually. It can also run on magical force. A version that uses a dark stone — a standard mana stone — for activation would certainly be possible to develop.”
“Then why?”
“Because I —”
She stopped.
She turned her gaze to Simon, trembling just below the stage. His face had gone the color of earth.
The man who had all but controlled her life, once. Looking at his diminished, frantic form now — she felt an odd mix of something almost like pity, and something hollow and deflated.
“…I believe that the production of devices intended for combat should be approached with extreme care. Something like this, handled carelessly, could become the spark for a war.”
“Agreed.”
Princess Melissa gave a careful nod.
“And so — as one means of keeping such weapons in check — I also developed a version that operates through holy power. Furthermore, until thorough testing and proper safeguards have been established, I have no plans for mass production.”
“…”
No one said anything disparaging about her stutter now.
The looks being aimed at her had changed entirely.
“They said she was an idiot, a lunatic — is she actually a genius?”
“A combat-capable device — every nation on the continent will be fighting to establish ties with House Rüschino.”
The whispers accumulated. Princess Melissa, who had paused in thought, gave a short response.
“I see.”
Her expression was unreadable.
“…In any case, the matter appears to be settled. Is there anyone who still wishes to challenge the victory of Lady Katiyana Rüschino?”
The nobles murmured. But no one stepped forward.
“Then I offer my formal congratulations, Lady Rüschino.”
“Thank you, Your Highness.”
“Now — there is just one remaining item.”
At those words, the nobles seemed to come back to themselves and began to stir.
“Surely not — that?”
“She’d never. Even if she has no shame, a noblewoman wouldn’t — not a woman proposing first, that’s simply not —”
Crunch.
Odette closed her fan in her fist and squeezed. Simon, beside her, had given up on dignity entirely and was gnawing at his thumbnail.
“Now then — Lady Katiyana Rüschino. As you are aware, there is a special privilege reserved for the winner of this tournament.”
Princess Melissa continued in her composed tone.
“The winner is entitled to formally court the partner of their choosing, and in recognition of that right, all nobles present are prohibited from courting that same individual for a period of one month.”
In other words — the winner and their partner would become, in the eyes of society, an exclusive couple for one month. In some respects, more binding than a formal engagement.
“However —”
Princess Melissa turned to face Kasha. Her violet eyes — strikingly like Leon’s, a resemblance that came from being his cousin — looked through her with quiet precision.
“For this right to be exercised, the winner must be the one to propose. That is the rule.”
Which meant that Kasha — the winner — was expected to court Leon. Not the other way around.
The problem was that in the world of nobility, a woman proposing to a man was considered a mortifying breach of decorum. Almost shameful.
“She wouldn’t dare. She has some pride left as a noblewoman.”
Someone said it loudly enough to carry — clearly intended to reach Kasha’s ears. A few unkind laughs followed.
Kasha registered the sounds distantly and looked toward Leon with an unhurried gaze.
He was still standing exactly where he had been. The same clear, composed, unchanging figure — as though he would simply remain there for as long as the world required it.
She turned toward the laughter. More precisely, she looked directly at Odette.
Pride. Dignity. None of it means anything to me.
“Kasha — what are you doing!” Daryl’s whispered shout reached her. She ignored it.
She took a step toward Leon.
His beautiful eyes watched her approach — curious, perhaps, or guarded.
When it comes to claiming what I want — none of that matters in the slightest.
She walked up to him, and naturally, without hesitation, lowered herself onto one knee.
“Kasha — what on earth —!”
Daryl’s audible horror carried from below. Other voices too — appalled, dismissive.
Kasha let all of it fall beneath her and spoke, clearly and evenly.
“Will you accept my courtship? Leon Miloyonif Aranias, Your Grace.”
She’s lost her mind! How embarrassing! She has no shame whatsoever! The jeers and scandalized whispers came down like a shower of stones.
But in this moment, only one thing in the world could actually hurt her.
He won’t refuse. Surely he won’t.
Don’t follow me.
It’s awkward.
The things she had said to push him away during the hunt came back to her, and she felt the weight of them.
I was only trying to seem strong.
The longer Leon’s silence stretched, the more a slow, rising anxiety coiled inside her.
Don’t forget our agreement, Leon. Please.
She was repeating it like a prayer inside her own chest when —
“I accept.”
His voice was low. Easy. Unhurried. It reached her like something entirely natural.
“Pardon?”
She looked up at him with round, startled eyes, as though she wasn’t entirely sure she had heard correctly.
He was looking down at her.
And he smiled — not a smirk, not self-deprecation, not the cool, controlled expression she had come to expect. A real smile. Something genuine and, for the briefest moment, unguarded.
It was so unexpected, and so startlingly lovely, that she nearly lost her balance.
“Are you all right?”
Before she had even processed that she was swaying, his hand was already there — reaching down, closing around hers, pulling her to her feet.
Warmth, even through the glove.
Kasha felt the relief settle into her all at once, and she gripped his hand and allowed herself a faint smile.
“…”
He looked at her for a moment with something suspended in his expression. Then, when she seemed steady, he slowly released her hand.
“Then — Sir Leon Aranias — you are accepting Lady Katiyana Rüschino’s courtship?”
Princess Melissa asked it again in her patient, clear voice.
The nobles were still watching with eyes wide enough to absorb every detail.
Leon’s response was to lower himself, in turn, to one knee before Kasha. His platinum hair fell slightly loose, and the clean, graceful line of his brow was revealed.
He spoke.
“Kasha Rüschino. I, who stand upon the soil of the continent of Theatrum, in the name of the great Goddess — lay down my humble heart at your feet.”
Several people around them recognized the words — the formal pledge used at noble betrothal ceremonies — and clapped their hands over their mouths with expressions of silent, absolute shock.
Kasha didn’t recognize the formula. She only thought he had chosen something remarkably beautiful to say. Even knowing this was a courtship by contract, her heart responded against her better judgment.
She reached out her hand to him — instinctively, as if drawn. He recognized what it meant. There was a brief pause — something that might have been hesitation — and then he took it, calmly, and brought his lips down to the pale back of her hand, where the faint blue thread of a vein ran beneath the skin.
“How can this be —!”
“No — not Leon —”
It lasted only a moment. But the press of his mouth, the fierce warmth of him, was seared into the cool skin of her hand like a brand. Kasha felt it travel up her spine.
The eyes looking up at her from below were dark and intent — luminous with something she didn’t have a word for.
“Might I have a moment of your time, Sir Leon?”
The ceremonies had concluded, and Leon was checking on his horse in preparation for the ride home when someone approached. A well-dressed attendant — handsome, composed.
“What is it?”
“My master wishes to speak with you. Please come with me, just for a moment.”
He looked apologetic. Whatever his master’s temperament was, it had apparently left its mark on him.
Leon preferred not to make innocent servants suffer on his account, and followed the man to an elaborate carriage waiting nearby.
“I’m glad you came.”
He had suspected, from the crest on the carriage curtains, who he would find inside.
Odette Tyrot sat with her fan partially covering her face, watching him with studied composure.
“It really is difficult to get time with you.”
Leon listened with half his attention, considering briefly whether to simply step out of the carriage.
He was too tall for the confined space to be comfortable. He settled onto the seat across from her and let his expression close off.
“What is this about. It is not appropriate for you to request a private meeting with a man. As you know, I am now in an exclusive courtship with Lady Kasha Rüschino, which makes this situation uncomfortable.”
Odette laughed.
“You really are surprising, my lord. If I’d known earlier that you had this kind of humor in you, I’d have set aside the formalities a long time ago.”
“If you have nothing to say, I’ll take my leave.”
He began to rise, coldly.
“Are you aware that Grand Duke Ossilote borrowed ten thousand gold from our family’s trading house?”
He stopped.
Odette’s mouth curved into the faint smile of someone who has been anticipating exactly this.
“My father lent that considerable sum on the strength of a single promissory note — with the understanding that our betrothal was already arranged. And yet —”
She raised both hands in an exaggerated gesture.
“Things have gone quite messily, haven’t they?”
“What is messy is not the situation — but the calculation my father and yours made, bringing money into what should have been a family negotiation.”
Leon replied without heat. But his face had visibly darkened.
Odette watched him for a moment, then lifted her fan and tilted the carriage curtain open just slightly to glance outside. Whatever she saw made one corner of her mouth move.
“Regardless — my father is very displeased, Sir Leon.”
“I will repay the sum.”
“And how?”
She smiled pleasantly.
“Are you planning to sell the Grand Duchy’s estate?”
Swish.
She pulled the curtain all the way open — and then, with a pointed, theatrical gesture, tossed her closed fan through the window.
“Huh? Where did this come from —?”
From outside the carriage, a voice rang out — loud, familiar, recognizable.
