The masquerade was held in the grand banquet hall. Ladies wearing jewel-encrusted masks ascended the stage, lavishly decorated with silk and candelabras. The Queen’s ladies-in-waiting took turns delivering lines steeped in vanity. They danced and sang.
Charlotte Brennan was undoubtedly unrivaled. Wearing a pink silk gown, she danced lightly, like a hummingbird. It was hard not to fall in love watching her. She had clearly earned the title of Goddess of Beauty, worth bearing the resentment of the Queen and the other ladies-in-waiting.
“More wine.”
Queen Jeydalin, seated upon the highest seat in the grand banquet hall—a throne decorated with pointed ornaments—flicked her finger. Millicent, who had been meandering through the crowd with a wine bottle, quickly ran over and filled the Queen’s empty glass.
The King’s throne beside Jeydalin remained empty.
“He will appear on stage leading his retainers at the climax.”
Jeydalin said, noticing Millicent’s curiosity.
“Will His Majesty also wear a mask?”
“Yes. Have you never seen His Majesty?”
“Yes. But if you wear a mask and blend into the crowd again today, I won’t be able to see you properly.”
“No matter what disguise he wears, once you see him, you will know. Unconditionally.”
Jeydalin gave a bitter smile.
“That is the kind of man His Majesty is.”
“Everyone says that, but I have no idea what it means,” Millicent grumbled.
“Well, perhaps it feels exactly like the King on a trump card.”
Jeydalin carelessly added an entirely unhelpful explanation.
“Anyway, you’re saying that His Majesty the King will also wear a mask, come up on stage, and dance?”
“That is correct.”
“Why does Your Majesty the Queen not dance?”
Millicent suddenly wondered.
“Everyone was desperate to stand on stage. Why didn’t you take the role of the Goddess of Beauty?”
This was Jeydalin, who had received the highest level of education on the five continents since birth. Moreover, she was so beautiful that comparing her to her own ladies-in-waiting would have been rude.
“The palace stage is a display stand for exhibiting one’s existence,” Jeydalin snickered. “The goal is to receive a better evaluation than the woman standing beside you. So you can secure a better husband. Or to catch the King’s eye and obtain better titles and territories for your father and husband.”
She drank the blood-red wine with an exceedingly elegant motion.
“Thus, I decline. I have never once felt a reason to sell myself. No one has ever dared even think of putting a price on my existence.”
Jeydalin suddenly furrowed her brow.
“…Well, it seems my mother managed to think that way, though.”
The expression on her face as she recalled her mother—the dowager who had generously granted her succession rights while simultaneously coldly stripping them away—looked extremely complicated.
Millicent was curious about the reason. But she was not foolish enough to show her curiosity.
“Anyway, I enjoyed filling out addition tables and studying astronomy since I was young. I have never once liked that sort of thing.”
It was a tone of genuine contempt.
“Dress me in pure white.”
Regardless of Jeydalin’s personal sentiments, the masquerade was reaching its climax. Charlotte’s song, standing at the center of the stage, captivated the grand banquet hall.
“Decorate the altar with roses and lay honeysuckle upon my hair.”
She dramatically stretched out her hand clad in white satin gloves.
“O, God of the dead. Become the King of the living and save me.”
Just then, the heavy doors of the grand banquet hall burst open, and trumpeters entered. The earsplitting blare of their trumpets startled Millicent so much that she nearly dropped her wine bottle.
And amidst the trumpeters making a resounding commotion, five men appeared. They appeared to be the King and his retainers, disguised to suit the play. They were dressed in partner costumes for the ladies and wore ornate masks, but Millicent managed to recognize one of them. It was the squire of Rupert, who was said to be the son of a duke. He stood out because his red hair, burning like fire, was conspicuous under his yellow mask.
“How can he be so splendid?”
Tracy, who had been carrying a tray of pickled cherries near the stage and offering them to guests, let out an exclamation.
Upon closer observation, everyone except Millicent seemed to have recognized not the cardinal’s squire, but the King.
“Which one is His Majesty?” Millicent scurried to Tracy’s side.
“Are you stupid?” Tracy clicked her tongue as if feeling truly sorry for her.
“They all look similar!” Millicent protested, feeling aggrieved.
In the meantime, the King and his retainers approached the stage, leisurely enjoying the shock of their intrusion. Each took the hand of the lady predetermined as his partner, spinning around and leading the dance. All were skilled, but the red-haired squire was different. He staggered from nervousness. Thanks to that, he even stepped on the hem of the gown of Ophelia, who played the role of the God of Marriage.
Now only the Goddess of Beauty at the center of the stage remained. A smile full of expectation bloomed on Charlotte’s lips as she waited with her hand outstretched. Likewise, only one of the intruding men remained. He wore a silver mask over jet-black hair, and he was the tallest person. With each step he took toward the stage, the sound of his very expensive boots—slender and covering even his firm calves—echoed throughout the palace.
Millicent suddenly felt a sense of incongruity. It was not because of the man himself. It was because of the attitude of the others looking at him. The orchestra was still playing and the choir boys were singing, yet it strangely felt as if enveloped in silence. Everyone loved him. At the same time, they feared him. Before anyone knew it, the play, the roles—all had vanished. Only an awe clearly born from his very existence dominated the world.
“…Good heavens, what is happening!”
Before long, someone let out a shriek. Millicent quickly realized the reason. It was because the man of immense presence had not taken Charlotte’s white satin glove. Instead, he came to a halt right in front of Millicent and stood tall. Then he extended his hand.
“…Excuse me.” Millicent whispered, dazed. “It seems you can’t see well because of the mask, but it’s not me. It’s her over there.”
Since he had ruined the masquerade where the King was to appear, whoever he was, his future was obvious. He would become the laughingstock of high society and, of course, be banished from the court. If Millicent possessed emotions like everyone else, she would have found him pitiful enough to weep for.
“I’m just a passing maid, you poor thing!”
Since he didn’t budge at all, she tried to grab him and push him toward Charlotte. But surprisingly, he distorted Millicent’s intention. He seized her right hand, which she had stretched out to push him, and led her into a dance to the music. Spinning around with unbelievably elegant movements, he even snatched the wine bottle Millicent held in her left hand and made it disappear somewhere.
“You must be mad!”
Millicent, utterly failing to grasp the situation, was horrified. A maid in an apron dancing with a nobleman in the middle of the royal court. Everyone was equally shocked by this bizarre spectacle. Still, the orchestra played the scheduled tune, fidgeting nervously. The couples on stage also danced, watching cautiously.
Unfortunately, Charlotte accepted reality most cruelly. She stood bewildered between the proceeding play and the men and women spinning and dancing. She withdrew the hand she had stretched toward the man she believed to be her partner, but her face was flushed red, as if about to burst, from the extreme humiliation. It was only natural that Adriana, who had been among the spectators supported by a maid, burst into laughter upon seeing Charlotte like that.
However, Millicent had no energy to spare for Charlotte’s misfortune. She had to match steps with this madman whose brain seemed to spin perfectly in reverse.
“You know the Kuranda dance piece quite well for a maid.”
He whispered. It was not a wrong observation. Millicent had been moving unconsciously to the melody. It was fascinating. It seemed one never forgot a song learned in childhood, even in old age.
“Just like a lady from a prestigious family.”
“And you dance like a sane person for a madman!” Millicent snapped.
Wait, she had experienced something similar before. She had definitely engaged in a meaningless war of words with someone recently. Was it Rupert? No. It was someone else. Someone she considered far more insignificant and annoying….
“…Frankie?”
Finally, Millicent grasped the clue.
“It’s not Phineas now?”
The man laughed as if it were absurd.
“It is Frankie!”
“I told you, it’s Freddie.”
He raised his hand and spun her around in a circle, causing Millicent to lose the chance to retort that it was all the same.
“Millicent.”
He spoke, wrapping his arm around her waist and pulling her close. They were so near their noses almost touched.
“I remember your name so clearly like this.”
The only part of his face the mask did not cover was his eyes. Millicent’s face was reflected in his grey irises, tinged with blue.
“What good does it do to remember that? You’re going to be fired and leave now.”
“Where do you think I will be fired from?”
The man asked, amused.
“Didn’t you say you’re the King’s squire? How could you be safe after ruining the play commemorating his victory? Stop dancing and go pack your bags. You’ll be banished anyway.”
“I am neither a hunter nor the King’s squire.”
He said.
“You are a truly rare, innocent young lady.”
A cold gaze emanating from his grey eyes slowly swept across Millicent’s face. The white cap hanging long at both sides, concealing everything from a single strand of hair to her expression; her bright blue eyes; and her lips pressed tightly together without expression.
“Or perhaps a young lady pretending to be innocent?”
He spoke again.
“Either way, it is refreshing.”
This man clearly possessed a talent for agitating Millicent in utterly incomprehensible ways. It was not merely that she was being treated like a fool. For some reason, she felt like prey once again.
“Save the freshness for the butcher’s shop.”
Millicent pretended to move to the beat and twisted his hand hard.
“I’m not a piece of meat on display like those noble young ladies. I have nothing to gain by looking fresh to you.”
“Really? Even I am a piece of meat, well-groomed and sold in this court.”
He did not seem hurt, let alone ticklish.
“And if you knew who I was, even a worthless maid like you would have something to gain. Everyone thinks so.”
His wrist was so firm that no matter how much she twisted it, it would not bend.
“Think carefully, Millicent.”
He said.
“You already know who I am.”
The orchestra’s performance stopped. The ridiculous masquerade had ended. The men released the hands of the ladies they had been dancing with and stepped back to bow. The man named Frankie or Freddie was no exception. His bow, staring directly into Millicent’s eyes, was neither polite nor courteous. Rather, it was unsettling and uncomfortable.
Among the ladies bowing in return, bending their knees and sinking straight down like buckets, Charlotte stood awkwardly without a partner once again, catching the eye. And suddenly, Charlotte’s humiliation rang an alarm bell for Millicent. She had definitely heard that the Goddess of Beauty would have the chance to dance with the King last.
“Now, remove your masks.”
In the silence after the music ceased, Rupert Mullery requested. As the sponsor of the banquet, he sat in the seat second only to the Queen, and only now did his face come into view. Rupert’s expression looking this way was fierce. Strangely, it resembled the days when village boys used to pull her hair to get her attention.
At the cardinal’s request, the people on stage removed their masks. But all gazes were directed solely at the man standing before Millicent. His neatly combed jet-black hair was disheveled from dancing and flowed down slightly onto his neat forehead. His grey eyes, tinged with blue, treated all the attention pouring down upon him as utterly natural. A smile filled with the confidence that he himself owned this palace hung on his red lips.
Only then did Millicent realize what the words “you can’t help but know when you see him” had meant.
“All hail!”
Amidst applause, the King’s herald shouted with vigor.
“The greatest King on the five continents, Protector of the Holy Kingdom of Kintland, the azalea that bloomed in the deepest ashen hue of House Greihis, the most perfect creation crafted by God….”
Like crashing waves, everyone bent their waists and knees in reverence.
“His Majesty Frederick!”
And so, his name was Freddie—finally, Millicent memorized it correctly.
“Good evening, beautiful lady.”
Frederick whispered to her as she awkwardly bent her knees, following the others.
“So, did I adequately respond to your command to look more handsome the next time we met?”
Thanks to that, Millicent wished for the first time in her life that she could simply faint.