The debutante ball of the twin princesses of the Killion Empire, Rachel Vasillias Evereux and Aurora Vasillias Evereux, was as grand as one would expect for an empire's finest. But this event held an added layer of significance, for one of the twins—the Jewel of the Killion Empire, Rachel—was celebrated for far more than her beauty.
Being of the Grand Duchy of Silvaria, our attendance at the ball in Thalendris was both expected and essential. As I stood before the mirror, adjusting my three-piece suit in the duchy's traditional colors of white and silver, I had to admit, my appearance in this life was a marked improvement over my last. Silver-platinum hair, crimson eyes, and a face that was undeniably striking—appearance, it seemed, was one department where this life had done me more than a few favors.
"Lance!" Celia's voice chirped as she burst into the room, her excitement practically a force of nature. Lyra, ever-patient, continued putting the final touches on my suit as I glanced over at my sister, who seemed oblivious to concepts like knocking.
"You know, knocking is a thing," I remarked, raising a brow.
Celia giggled, her eyes dancing with mischief. "Oops, my bad," she said, though her smile hinted at anything but regret.
She wore a dress of silver and white with subtle streaks of black woven through, adding contrast and a dash of elegance. Sharing the same silver hair and crimson eyes as me, Celia had a look that could command attention, yet she exuded a purity and innocence that softened her features, making her beauty bright and open—a contrast to the edge I knew I carried.
"Where's Evelyn?" I asked, glancing at Celia, who suddenly looked over her shoulder as if only now realizing she'd left Evelyn behind.
"Oh! One moment," she exclaimed before hurrying out of the room. Moments later, she returned, "escorting" Evelyn with a determined grip, though it looked more like gentle dragging.
"Wait, no, I—" Evelyn began, her voice trailing off as Celia nudged her forward with a bright smile.
"Come on! You look so pretty!" Celia insisted, finally guiding Evelyn fully into the room.
The sight of her stopped me in my tracks. Evelyn's dark hair framed her face, and her deep eyes—shadowed with hints of purple—were a striking contrast to the pure silver and white of her dress. Unlike Celia's outfit, Evelyn's attire needed no accents of black; the simplicity of the colors emphasized her elegance. Her cheeks flushed as she looked away, clearly unused to this kind of attention.
'This behaviour, so very different from her,' I thought to myself before dismissing that thought.
"You look incredible," I said, offering a smile. The dress she wore was one of the fitted pieces from our visit to Vereille Boutique, one of those I'd ended up buying when she couldn't decide.
Evelyn's lips curved into a shy smile, a warmth in her gaze that caught me off guard.
Seeing her like this, it was hard to believe she was the daughter of the Witch of Calamity, a woman who had controlled an entire village with her puppet magic, ensnaring the lives of others with ease—even manipulating a full unit of the Golden Dragon Knights. And yet here Evelyn stood, a girl barely older than myself, uncertain and blushing, somehow both powerful and unassuming.
"Stop gawking at your wife-to-be, brother; we need to leave!" Celia teased, her voice full of mischief as she shot me a grin. The maids around us stifled their smiles, clearly accustomed to Celia's playful spirit.
Lyra had just finished the final touches, giving a respectful bow as I followed Celia's lead toward the door.
Turning to Evelyn, I extended my arm with a smile. "May I have the honor of escorting you, My Lady?"
Evelyn's eyes softened as she accepted my arm. "Of course, Lance."
The three of us made our way downstairs to find Mother waiting, a vision of grace in her own gown, styled similarly to Celia's but carrying an unmistakable air of mature elegance.
"Good, you're all ready," she said, her usual stoic demeanor softened with a warm smile.
We stepped into the carriage, Evelyn settling beside me, while Celia took her seat next to Mother. As Evelyn moved to step up, she hesitated, momentarily thrown by her heeled shoes. I extended a steadying hand, helping her up before offering the same assistance to Celia, who encountered a similar issue. Mother, ever graceful, climbed in with practiced ease.
"Do the shoes make it difficult?" I asked Evelyn, noting her careful footing.
"A little," she admitted, glancing down at her heeled shoes with a wry smile. "But I'll manage."
The carriage began to move, and as we settled in, a sense of excitement mingled with anticipation. The evening ahead would be grand, but the company here made it feel truly complete.
The carriage wound its way through the magnificent grounds of the Imperial Palace, a sprawling estate encircled by high walls and lush gardens, gleaming under the light of countless lanterns. Tonight, the palace was transformed into a beacon of elegance, with guests arriving in droves, all vying for a glimpse of the grandeur within.
As we drew closer to the grand hall nestled at the heart of the palace, the scale of the occasion became even more apparent. Guards in resplendent ceremonial armor stood at intervals, every inch of the palace meticulously prepared for this event—the debutante ball of the twin princesses, Rachel and Aurora. A prestigious occasion, and one where the empire's most powerful families gathered.
Our carriage came to a stop before the grand steps leading into the hall. Footmen opened the doors, and Mother was the first to descend, exuding the effortless grace and authority of the Grand Duchess of Silvaria. Celia followed, her eyes bright with excitement, taking in the opulence around us. Evelyn held onto my arm a little tighter, her eyes wide as she glanced at the towering columns and gleaming marble of the palace entrance. I gave her a reassuring nod.
Inside, the hall was breathtaking. Chandeliers glittered high above, casting a golden light over the vast space adorned with intricate frescoes and banners bearing the imperial crest. The guests moved in a whirl of color and light, their laughter and conversation mingling with the strains of the orchestra playing softly in the background. As we approached, a steward near the entrance raised his staff, signaling for attention.
In a clear, resonant voice, he announced our arrival. "Her Grace, the Grand Duchess of Silvaria, Lady Eleanor von Silvaria, and her children: Lord Lancelot von Silvaria and Lady Celia von Silvaria, and Lord Lancelot's fiancée Lady Evelyn of Silvaria."
A hush fell as the guests turned to look. All eyes were drawn to Mother first, her presence commanding, but soon they lingered on Evelyn, who drew subtle gasps and whispers from those who hadn't yet heard of our engagement. The intrigue was evident—Evelyn's presence was a surprise to many, and she carried it with quiet grace.
We descended the grand staircase together, Mother leading with a regal composure, while Celia followed, excitement sparkling in her gaze. Evelyn clutched my arm slightly tighter, her expression one of determination beneath the subtle nervousness. I offered her a reassuring smile as we reached the polished marble floor of the hall.
"Remember, tonight, you're a lady of Silvaria," I whispered to her. "You belong here as much as anyone."
Her gaze softened, a grateful smile touching her lips. "Thank you, Lance."