* * *

The day the tailor brought over the ceremonial attire, completed on a timeline far faster than usual, I had already informed Hernan that we’d finally begin the long-postponed dance practice.

After all, I had no intention of parading around town the fact that the heir to Velon, now twenty-four, couldn’t even manage a proper dance step.

“I can teach you,” he had said.

It was his first time teaching someone taller than him, but having done this more than once before, he figured it wouldn’t be a problem.

Hernan didn’t put up much resistance and agreed. I planned to call just one musician for accompaniment.

That is, until Hernan unnecessarily nitpicked about attire.

“It suits you well,” I said.

The tailor, his eyes sparkling, was showering the attire with extravagant praise, claiming it was a masterpiece unlike any he’d created before.

But Hernan, uninterested, remained impassive.

That composed, meticulous demeanor of his somehow clashed with the excessive enthusiasm in the room, grating on my nerves.

The tailor wasn’t gushing tears for no reason, though—Hernan’s appearance certainly lived up to the hype.

Just sitting silently in the corner of the party would be enough to draw a swarm of people around him.

I’d make sure to keep his mouth shut and whisk him away to another spot if anyone tried to monopolize him.

Simply showing off that beautiful face would bring more than enough promotional benefit.

“…”

When Hernan responded with a dissatisfied expression to my attempt at flattery, I figured I might have gone too far.

He looked down at me, his discontent clear as he spoke.

“Why don’t you try it on as well, my lord?”

Well… because it’s not all that different from what I always wear?

The size hadn’t changed, and the design wasn’t new, so I’d planned to simply wear it on the day of the event.

“Pardon?”

Raising an eyebrow as though he didn’t understand my reasoning, Hernan strode closer.

“It would be best for you to try it on now. If there’s even the slightest mistake, it would be disastrous.”

Was that necessary?

I’d already unfolded the southern-style outfit to check it and found nothing amiss.

Before I could respond, the tailor cut in enthusiastically.

“I’ll get everything ready for you to try it on right away! Flan, what are you waiting for? Prepare it quickly!”

Not missing a beat, the staff swept in, pulling me behind a partition they’d set up as a makeshift dressing room.

Before I knew it, I was half-undressed by the hands of the staff.

“Wait, hold on—”

Without giving me a chance to resist, several employees—eager to dress me in the unfamiliar southern-style ceremonial attire—pounced.

They stripped off my simple dress shirt with alarming speed, leaving me in nothing but a thin undershirt.

“Your waist is slimmer than expected. A belt would complement your figure nicely.”

Despite being used to dressing assistance, a custom passed down among certain nobles, it was still unsettling to have others handling me like this, examining my body so closely.

“Wait, hold on! I’ll dress myself—”

My weak protests were ignored. Someone even took my glasses away, likely to prevent damage during the process.

Without them, I was effectively blind, unable to see anything clearly beyond vague outlines.

“…Fine.”

Accepting my fate, I stood still as they dressed me.

The staff, evidently satisfied with their handiwork, fastened the outer robe and tied the decorative belt so snugly that I instinctively tensed my stomach.

“Ugh.”

Losing my balance momentarily, I swayed.

Concerned, Hernan, who had been waiting outside, hastily pulled back the curtain and stepped in.

“Is everything alright?”

“Yes, it’s nothing.”

Embarrassed to admit I’d been thrown off by a too-tight belt, I quickly straightened.

The snug waist contrasted with the looser lapels, which naturally fell open to reveal the thin, semi-transparent inner layer and a glimpse of skin.

Southern formal attire typically featured this style, emphasizing simplicity: a robe tied with a single belt, revealing the inner garment underneath.

‘It’s an old-fashioned style nowadays, but there are even outfits with nothing but a vest over bare skin.’

Of course, I’d never worn anything like that in my life.

Such attire was mostly reserved for the elderly during traditional ceremonies.

In the South, showing a bit of skin wasn’t a big deal—as long as you weren’t stripping off indoors.

However, for Northerners, who bundled up with tightly buttoned collars, brooches, and mandatory cloaks outdoors, it seemed quite shocking.

“Uh, um…”

The staff, too, appeared a little startled by the completed look.

While it wasn’t as dramatic as when Hernan had put on his ceremonial outfit, it was enough to leave them momentarily speechless.

Hernan, covering his mouth as if at a loss for words, finally spoke.

“…Isn’t this too revealing?”

Sure, southern attire exposed more skin than northern styles, but it wasn’t that revealing!

Flustered, I lightly punched Hernan’s shoulder.

“Don’t say weird things.”

His embarrassment was so palpable that I started to feel self-conscious too.

I’d attended countless social gatherings in similar attire and never once been criticized.

This was normal clothing for southern nobles!

And, honestly, some women’s dresses exposed shoulders and backs entirely.

His reaction was so over-the-top, it felt like he belonged in a museum.

“You’re planning to go in front of all those people dressed like this?”

Hernan cleared his throat awkwardly, continuing his nonsense.

Embarrassed by the watching staff, I stepped on his foot.

“Any further comments, and I’ll take them as insults to my domain.”

I silenced him, stepped outside the partition, and checked myself in the mirror. It wasn’t even that revealing!

The lapels only opened slightly to expose a bit of my upper chest.

Compared to others who bared their stomachs or adorned themselves with necklaces, this was conservative by southern standards.

The sleeve length was fine.

The belt was tighter than I preferred, but not enough to hinder movement.

Clearing my throat, I instructed a servant to settle the bill before addressing Hernan.

“Let’s head to the hall. Everything’s already prepared.”

Preparation simply involved moving tables to make space and arranging for a piano and a single musician.

While grand balls typically used string ensembles, this wasn’t the occasion for it.

A solo pianist was enough.

“…Alright.”

For once, I took the lead, with Hernan following close behind as we headed toward the banquet hall.

Inside, I could see the space had been cleared out to allow for dance practice.

When Hawthorn, who had been waiting, gestured to the musician, the latter stood up from his chair and gave a slight bow of acknowledgment.

“I’ve ensured the musician is someone discreet, so you don’t need to worry,” Hawthorn said.

I gave a nod of understanding and walked to the center of the banquet hall first.

“This way.”

When I lightly motioned for Hernan to follow, he approached with a faintly awkward air and took his place in front of me.

“As I mentioned earlier, according to imperial etiquette, it’s customary for men to ask women to dance,” I began.

One might think Hernan, being a man, could simply refuse to ask anyone if he didn’t want to dance.

But, of course, etiquette was never that simple.

If it were, there wouldn’t be noblemen ridiculed as backwater rubes for neglecting minor rules.

Unfortunately, there were exceptions.

“However, in cases like this, where the host of the ball is a woman, all male participants are obligated to invite the host for a dance.”

Hernan, who had looked somewhat relieved earlier, frowned at this unexpected twist.

It was hard not to be slightly irritated by the fact that even this disgruntled expression of his looked heartbreakingly beautiful to an uninformed observer.

At least it wasn’t an unpleasant sight to behold.

“Whether or not the host accepts is entirely up to her, and since this is merely a ceremonial invitation, it’s often refused with polite small talk…”

Of course, I was certain Evelyn wouldn’t refuse Hernan’s request to dance.

I had no doubt about it.

* * *