* * *

The grand ball to celebrate the princess’s birthday was in three weeks.

While the invitations had been sent a month in advance, from our perspective, preparations were starting from zero, leaving us with a tight schedule.

We needed new outfits, dance lessons, and a crash course on the ball’s proceedings—not to mention catching up on current trends.

From popular dances to the proper etiquette for leading a partner in line with the music, there was too much to teach in too little time.

Both Hernan and I had demanding responsibilities, so squeezing out just an hour a day for practice felt like an insurmountable challenge.

Watching Hernan stare at me with his annoyingly transparent eyes as if clueless to my worries only stoked my temper further.

“What are you staring at?” I snapped.

“I thought you had more to say,” he replied, unflinching.

Just stop talking, for heaven’s sake.

The way his softly curved eyes lit up with amusement made my face heat involuntarily.

“Enough with the pointless chatter,” I said, clearing my throat and avoiding his gaze.

“We’re going to have new outfits tailored by the end of the week.”

Hernan tilted his head, a look of mild confusion on his face.

“I already have all the formal attire I need.”

Oh, sure. If he planned to wear those somber robes better suited for court hearings, I’d sprinkle salt on him myself and chase him out the door.

“Let’s start with your wardrobe,” I declared, standing firm.

The clothes I’d seen Hernan wear since coming to Velon were all dull and uninspired.

Though his face made up for the blandness, the outdated designs were glaringly obvious.

If an average noble had worn them, they’d have been mistaken for a relic from three centuries ago.

“His looks are saving his wardrobe, not the other way around,” I thought bitterly.

Determined, I stared him down until he sighed in surrender and instructed Hawthorn to lead the way.

The butler, clearly uneasy, led us to the wardrobe room, where I was greeted by a collection of drab, antiquated designs.

“…Are these all hand-me-downs?” I asked, suspicion dawning on me.

The ornate cuffs and lapels hadn’t been in style for at least a decade.

While regional differences might explain some of it, it seemed far more likely that Hernan simply didn’t care about fashion.

As if to confirm my suspicions, Hernan gave me a sly smile and replied, “They’re well-maintained, aren’t they? How did you guess?”

---

“Of course. Why is it that you, with no lack of wealth, never seem to care about these things?”

Frustrated, I furrowed my brow, though Hawthorn stepped in with an excuse on Hernan’s behalf.

“W-Well, we did have the shoulders refitted to match the Grand Duke’s physique, and the sleeves and pant hems were altered, too.”

That wasn’t the issue.

A man with his tall, broad build wearing undersized clothing would only look utterly ridiculous.

It would ruin his one standout feature—his striking face.

Adjusting the size of the garments was a given; it was their outdated style that was the problem.

“Thanks to the Grand Duke’s exceptional frugality, it seems the wealth of Velon has become so abundant.”

At first glance, it sounded like praise, but it was an insult.

With all the treasure hoarded in Velon’s storerooms, how much could they have possibly saved by skimping on clothes and appearing so miserly?

It was a sarcastic jab at best, though insults are only effective when the other party understands them.

The response I received only raised my blood pressure further.

“Oh, there’s no need for such kind words…”

“I wasn’t complimenting you.”

If he dared step into the middle of a ballroom looking like this, people wouldn’t think he was there to celebrate someone’s birthday—they’d think he was here to issue a warrant and conduct a raid.

Pinching my temples, I sighed before addressing Hawthorn.

“I’ll give you the communication line code. Call and make an appointment immediately.”

I tore a page from my notebook, scribbled down the number, and handed it to Hawthorn.

He quickly confirmed the digits and tucked the note inside his sleeve.

“Yes, I’ll contact them right away.”

At least two suits—bare minimum.

Considering there’d be other events to attend in the future, it wouldn’t hurt to prepare one for each season.

Surveying the dreadful wardrobe, I began tossing aside pieces that seemed better suited for my grandfather’s era.

“….”

Hernan stood there, his expression clearly asking, Why ruin perfectly fine clothing?

I shot him a look of pure disdain.

“And where exactly were you planning to go dressed like this?”

God, the shirt was something else—three layers of ruffles, as if it were trying to outshine the Sun King himself.

And those sleeves!

Triple puffed, no less.

It was so outdated and garish that I found myself almost impressed by the servants’ skill in preserving such horrors.

If it wasn’t drab and funeral-like in one instance, it was an explosion of gaudy colors—lime green, yellow, and purple clashing together like some nightmarish hanbok.

This was why he always stuck to plain, dull outfits of the same uninspired level.

This wasn’t just bad taste; it was a disaster.

A crime against aesthetics that should have been incinerated on sight.

Suppressing my urge to throw them straight into the fireplace, I sighed and added:

“Let’s go with four outfits for now… No, better make it more. He’ll need them for the current season and early next year…”

I muttered to myself, considering the options while Hernan stood there like a mannequin.

At that moment, a knock came at the door, and a familiar face appeared.

“Grand Duke, it’s about time we head out.”

It was Anton, who had slunk away earlier.

Next to him stood the ever-stoic Irina, her demeanor as unyielding as always.

The stark contrast between the two—the boyishly cheerful Anton and the steadfast Irina—made them look less like colleagues and more like a mischievous younger brother and his older sister.

“Yes, we’ll leave now. If necessary, I’ll return to finish this later.”

Hernan glanced at the two of them, then smoothly stepped aside, addressing me.

“It seems I’ll be going now. I’ll leave the rest to you.”

The tailor wouldn’t be arriving immediately anyway, and I could teach him ballroom etiquette tomorrow.

With a curt nod, I dismissed him.

“Very well. Let’s continue tomorrow.”

I had plenty on my plate as it was.

The construction site needed additional carpenters, experienced ones at that.

The project was progressing faster than anticipated, requiring adjustments to the timelines I had generously allotted.

‘Let’s focus on my own tasks first.’

As soon as Hernan left, I turned my attention back to the papers in front of me.

Prioritization was key to keeping things from spiraling out of control.

Yet, as I sifted through the documents, an image of Hernan in that abomination of an outfit popped into my mind.

“Pfft…”

I couldn’t help but laugh.

Anyone would think he’d lost a bet at some Halloween party.

The idea that he genuinely believed those clothes were suitable was so absurd it was funny.

Annoying as he was, the occasional moments of ridiculousness made it impossible to stay angry.

‘The way his face fell when I mentioned calling the butler for punishment… And how different Berta’s become—it’s like Hernan’s changed too.’

The Hernan of the original story would’ve dismissed my comment entirely, likely turning the servants against me in retaliation.

But now?

He was different, though why remained a mystery.

Unlike Berta, whose transformation into an eager scholar was something I could take credit for, Hernan’s shift left me baffled.

Who—or what—had influenced him?

‘…Well, no point wasting time on this.’

I shook off the idle thoughts and refocused on the papers.

Tomorrow, I’d send a letter confirming my attendance at the banquet and my plans to accompany Hernan.

This time, I’d ensure he was impeccably dressed, leaving no room for further embarrassment.

‘We’re stuck in this together for now, after all.’

Though I had no intention of letting this arrangement lead to marriage, I knew boosting Hernan Velon Yudenet’s standing was essential for the success of Velon’s endeavors.

‘Still, what’s even attractive about that…?’

Well, fine, he was attractive. If only he’d learn to hold his tongue, he’d be much less infuriating.

While I grumbled to myself, the day at Yudenet Castle marched on, as unrelenting as ever.

* * *