Ronan.

From Ronan's point of view, he was the one doing the count a favor by listening to him. Based on how the count responded, showing absolute respect, Ronan thought the count understood that too.

"Allow me to introduce myself. I am Benedict Bloodwynne, First Priest of the Church of the Dark Lord's Return."

"Churches are forbidden."

"Given our size, we're more of a cult. But with the goal of bringing about His Return and becoming His Church once more."

"And he has not struck you with lightning?"

"No, He has allowed it."

Ronan shrugged. Sometimes his invisible friend did strange things, like communicating with him when mortals supposedly no longer had any kind of relationship, not even worship, with the gods. It was possible he liked having a cult; after all, his status slab said he was his acolyte.

"And why are you telling me this?"

"Because my son has told me about your glorious power. We want you to join as High Priest and help us in our sacred mission to bring Our Lord back to the world."

Ronan considered it seriously. They could be useful servants for his lady. Any army worthy of the name needed expert curse mages to weaken their enemies.

He decided he needed more information before making a decision.

"I need more data about you."

"Come with me to the Seat of Our Church. I'll show you everything and introduce you to the other priests."

"Are they all mages with dark affinity?"

"Of course," the baron replied with pride. "Only those of us who have heard His Call can have the honor of singing His Praises."

"Alright. Where is it?"

"Where they'd least expect it, hidden within the kingdom's capital itself."

Ronan tried to communicate with Bianca to tell her he'd have to miss the ball, but he couldn't establish contact.

The seal spell.

Well, he'd tell her later. He stayed a while longer in the library, listening to the details the baron told him. His roommate, Damien, remained silent. Apparently, though a bit late, his father had drilled into him the wisdom that silence was the safest way to avoid annoying others.

Once they left the library, he was surprised to see the gardens so empty.

"The ball must be starting," the count told him. "Shall we wait if you want to attend?"

"No, it is not necessary. I understand the ball is a perfect moment because everyone's there. I will get my things and go with you."

Because they were going to travel by carriage. One with the Bloodwynne colors, since he had a property in the capital and, as he'd explained, the best way to hide was in plain sight, without resorting to anything strange, like disguising oneself or traveling incognito.

Ronan started walking toward his room when he heard Bianca's voice.

It was perfect, as he had just been about to call her mentally to tell her about his investigation.

He hoped she wouldn't mind that he wasn't going to be the king of the ball.

Ronan?

My lady, I apologize that I could not contact you earlier.

Sol is the Second Queen of the Ball.

That he's sorry he couldn't contact me earlier?

That doesn't reassure me.

Ronan, are you all right?

Yes, of course. Is something wrong?

Not with me, but what about you? You're late for the ball, they've called your name twice already. I was worried because you weren't answering and you were seen talking to Damien and his father the duelist nicknamed The Black Death.

Yes, he is quite nice and courteous. Apparently, he has a cult seeking the return of the dark god and wants me to join. I want to investigate whether they could be potential vassals for you.

What?

What I just told you, my lady.

And here I am trying to make sense of this while I'll soon have to enter the ball..

Ronan, we'll talk in more detail later but you shouldn't go. For starters, Damien's father has a rare spell that can nullify a rival's magic.

He doesn't answer. The master of ceremonies is calling him for the third time.

Ronan?

Please, my lady. I ask that you do not order me not to go. That spell you mentioned, I want to learn it.

His voice in my head no longer sounds calm like before, but rather charged with excitement.

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Ronan and academics... I should have realized that if I tell him about a rare spell from his school of magic, he's going to want to study and learn it. And I was telling him so he'd be careful and not go...

I contain my impulse to order him to come to the ball. He's my vassal, yes, but I told myself I wouldn't abuse that condition.

Do as you wish, Ronan. Just please be careful. I don't trust Damien or his father.

Thank you, my lady. Of course, I will be.

They're about to call me to enter the ball, we'll talk later.

I realize I didn't even ask him why our telepathic connection wasn't working. I imagine it must have been Damien's father's doing. That's another thing—I don't want evil dark magic users as vassals. One thing is Ronan, who's a sweetheart, and another is his roommate or full-fledged nobles with years of intrigue and pettiness behind them.

What could Ronan have been thinking to even consider something like that...

In any case, I need to focus on the ball.

Marco is beside me, looking at me while extending his arm. I place my hand on it with less delicacy than I'd like.

"Making their entrance, the daughter of the Count of L'Crom, Her Ladyship Lady Bianca L'Crom. Accompanied by the son of the Baron of Lacor, His Lordship Lord Marco Lacor," the master of ceremonies has just announced.

Here we go, then. I advance together with my now ex-fiancé into the great hall, where they've removed all the tables and chairs.

Marco walks with considerable resolve, something praiseworthy considering everyone's watching us. They've left us a wide central space and positioned themselves in couples on both sides, ready for the dance. Those who came alone have moved to the sides, where there are now upholstered armchairs, long benches, and some side tables loaded with glasses. When we reach the center of the room, amid the multicolored mosaic of the attendees' formal attire, Marco says goodbye to me by bowing slightly and kissing the back of my hand. Sol advances toward where we are.

If Ronan isn't here, the king of the ball—or rather, the second queen—is Sol Vassilea.

Oh, shit.

Marco moves away and leaves. She positions herself in front of me. The first chords of a laltz begin to play. They've set up a platform at the back, where the orchestra musicians have arranged themselves. They're dressed in elegant black uniforms and white shirts. But my eyes are fixed on the villainess, who's wearing a dress in the same dark red tone as mine and is smiling at me with a half-grimace I'm not sure is malicious or amused.

She takes Ronan's role, the guy's part. She bows slightly to me and extends her hand, gloved in black. I take it and move closer to her. She passes her other hand around my waist and I rest my free one on her shoulder. We begin to glide across the dance floor.

As you'd expect from a villainess, she perfectly excels at any art a high-ranking noble should master, dance included. Though she's a woman, she knows the man's steps perfectly and guides me with elegance and skill.

I just hope I don't fall out of step. I wouldn't want to lose the rhythm in front of someone so hateful.

"For a design I rejected for not being up to par for a future duchess, or princess, it looks good on you. I wonder why that is," she comments with a smile that seems cordial but I know is poisoned.

We're turning, relatively slowly, taking two beats for each step.

"I didn't know the dressmaker had made it for you. In that case I never would have bought it."

She laughs, without stopping moving me across the floor. Now we're no longer dancing alone. The rest of the couples have joined us and, in the hall lit by chandeliers full of candles, the atmosphere seems magical, like a fairy tale.

Except it's more like Snow White dancing with the evil stepmother.

"I see you're very proud for someone settling for leftovers, and... by the way, since when can a pauper who doesn't even pay for a design made from scratch afford to spend enough money to cheat and get 372 points?"

The dress thing... the truth is I went too late to order it and I imagine that's why I ended up with dresses that were already made, that the dressmaker had for sale. I accept that, my mistake. But... cheating?

"Are you so conceited that you assume the rest of us, if we've beaten you, it's because we cheated? Or is it that perhaps you cheated and that's why you're accusing me?"

We shift to one step, one beat. We start turning more dizzily.

"And if you did cheat... you weren't even able to beat me?" I add.

Now yes, I can see the rage in her eyes—she can't hide it.

I smile. It's music to my ears.

We continue dancing without exchanging another word.

The king and queen of the ball. Sol and Bianca. Maybe in another life we would have made a good pair; perhaps, in another world, I would have tried to understand and redeem her.

Something like: Sol, why are you like this? Is it because your high status forces you to marry a prince so you don't fall behind your sister? Maybe at home they compare you to her and you're never good enough or beautiful enough?

Who knows.

I don't care.

Why?

Because that bitch in the otome game made Mary's life impossible, and here she was already starting with the ribbon thing, and poor Mary, so good and kind, forgave her and let herself be stepped on.

Because she's also messed with Ronan, who could end up crossing the line and becoming someone terrifying, a final boss lich.

And, besides, because she's messed with me

This is weird. I, on Earth, would have let her do it. I mean, if she'd messed with a friend, I would have gone all out to support and defend her, but with me... it was as if I didn't matter as much, as if I could just endure and smile. But it turns out that here I'm smarter and wiser (seriously, it's not because the stats say so, it's that I feel my head is much clearer) and I've realized that if I don't matter, if I belittle myself, then I won't be able to have the self-esteem and confidence I need to fight for my goals.

And I have goals.

I want the pup to live, help the goblins, marry Vincent, and have a good life. That terrible threat that's coming, I need to be able to face it and defeat it. For that, I'll need on my side the one with the power of a lich necromancer boss, the one who in a world with gods allowed would be the saint, and my other friends. Vincent is a good leader, Darius and Alistair are a powerful combat force with a strong sense of honor, Theodore has good crowd control spells and damage with his water magic, and anyone else who wants to join will be welcome.

So yes. What I'm going to do to Sol tonight is also for me.

I smile in a way I think reflects my intentions because she looks at me with narrowed eyes. The dance ends. Before we separate, I bring my lips close to her right ear.

"See you later. I'm not done with you," I whisper.

And I walk away.

She stays still, I imagine seething with rage. Good, because that's what I want—for her to get angry. I know she'll control herself here, she has exquisite manners after all. But later... later alone will be a different story.

Come on, she didn't win in the trials despite cheating, which according to what she said was paid for with money. She's not Vincent's partner. Neither am I, granted; the difference is that I know he'll soon be my fiancé and she must be feeling like she's failed at that too. In fact, that day in the dining hall when Vincent kicked her out, that day marked a turning point where her chances with Vincent cooled, and I was there, just like I'm with him almost every day. And, to top it off, I'm the one who gets the last word in our dance. Without a doubt, she must be very angry.

With a smile, I head toward Marco, who's waiting for me on one of the sides of the room, by the upholstered benches but not sitting, to dance with him.

We'll dance one piece and I'll introduce him to my friends. And to Judith. Then I'll dance with Vincent, enjoy the evening, and look for Sol. Alone. I haven't been practicing so much until leveling up my healing spell to intermediate for nothing.

On the way I run into Mary, who looks at me with a worried expression. I nod and whisper to her:

"It's fine, he's not coming to the ball but leaving with Damien's father for a while. Don't worry."

She nods, walking alongside Theodore. She seems a little relieved but not much.

When the ball ends I'll talk to Ronan, find out everything properly, and reassure Mary.

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