"Yikes..." Edward sucked in a sharp breath. This felt strangely familiar! Balls were one of the main battlegrounds where early webnovel protagonists showed off and put their rivals in their place. How had it become his turn this time?
He asked casually:
"Pardon my ignorance, but is there anything special about the first dance?"
Mr. Henry looked at Edward in exaggerated astonishment and asked:
"You really don't know?"
"You know I was born and raised in White Eagle, but I'm a blacksmith's son. It was only by chance that I became an Alchemist and got to attend the Duke's Mansion's dinner. I really don't know much about these traditions," Edward said.
"I was the one who overlooked that. Back in the day, I was only a hunter's son myself. It was thanks to the Grand Duke's favor that I was able to serve the Duke's family. I didn't know anything at first, either." Mr. Hunter nodded in understanding, reminisced about the past, then continued:
"The first dance at the New Year's Ball is quite significant. According to the customs across Middle Earth, a young noblewoman's first dance of the New Year after coming of age is usually with the person she loves. That partner might even become the host of the ball's son-in-law!"
"Oh..." Edward looked enlightened, then said:
"I wonder who'll be the lucky one this year?"
Butler Hunter's mouth twitched. Keep pretending, why don't you? Acting as if you really don't know. I sent out all the invitations for this year's dinner, and there was only one the princess delivered herself. She came back wearing an ugly ring, and the servants throughout the Duke's Mansion have all heard about it. And why did you arrive so early? You've been practicing dancing at home for days, haven't you?
Edward had no idea Mr. Hunter was grumbling to himself. He had already followed him into a small sitting room.
The sitting room was empty. It was just as luxurious as the room outside, with gold-painted, carved sofas and tea tables arranged around it. Vases of dried flowers and fruit plates stood on the tables. Several oil paintings hung on the walls.
Mr. Hunter said he had other matters to attend to and took his leave. With nothing else to do, Edward propped his chin on one hand and began admiring the paintings.
He hadn't had much of an appreciation for art in his previous life. He was only looking for something novel here, and thought the oil paintings in this world weren't much different from those in his old one. They were all portraits and landscapes.
Just then, he heard a door open behind him. A servant led two people into the sitting room. Edward turned around and recognized one of them.
The baby-faced pastor came in, accompanied by a kindly-looking old man.
When Elwin saw Edward inside, he greeted him first:
"Mr. Smith, you're here early. Allow me to introduce this gentleman: he's the Bishop of our White Eagle Diocese."
Then he turned to introduce the old man:
"Your Excellency, this is Mr. Edward Smith, the newly appointed Branch President of the Alchemist Association."
As soon as the old man heard Edward's name, he happily stepped forward, took his hand, and said:
"Oh, Mr. Smith. I've heard so much about you. Thank you for looking after Elwin, and for all you've done for the people of the New Continent."
"Not at all. I've long admired you, too."
Edward exchanged a few empty pleasantries with the Bishop. The three of them then sat down in the sitting room and drank tea. Only now did Edward realize who the baby-faced pastor had learned that old cadre's tea-drinking manner from. The two pastors, one old and one young, sat there sipping their tea with their eyes half-closed in exactly the same way.
They chatted about everyday matters. Edward had always wondered why the baby-faced pastor spent so much time with the Duke's family, given how few formal professionals there were. Churches usually sent older, more staid pastors to deal with the nobility.
This time, curiosity got the better of him, and he asked.
It turned out that this world had a custom much like the ones in the historical costume dramas of Edward's previous life: noble families would take on a pastor from their faith as their household chaplain. It was a little like Wei Xiaobao leaving the palace on the emperor's behalf in The Deer and the Cauldron.
The baby-faced pastor was the Duke's household chaplain. That was why he always accompanied the family to diplomatic events.
Unless something unexpected happened, Elwin would become the next—or perhaps the one after next—bishop of the Holy Light Church in the White Eagle Region.
Just then, the door opened again. Reinhardt led in a young man wearing a finely tailored tailcoat.
The young man looked to be around twenty. He was tall and slender, with handsome features and neat, shoulder-length blond hair slicked back with shiny pomade. He reminded Edward of the Elf Prince in The Lord of the Rings films from his previous life, except that he didn't have those pointed ears.
But the young man looked haughty. As Edward would have put it in his previous life, he wore a sneer as if he thought he was better than everyone else—as if the whole world owed him money.
Reinhardt, behind him, looked just as displeased. After politely ushering the young man into the sitting room, he made no attempt to introduce him to anyone. He turned and strode away, his teeth clenched.
The haughty young man didn't bother acknowledging the three of them, either. He merely gave the seated Bishop a token nod, then sat off to one side and closed his eyes.
Edward noticed that Pastor Elvin seemed to know the man. He nudged the baby-faced pastor, who was sitting on the sofa beside him, with his elbow. When the pastor looked over, Edward nodded toward the young man.
The baby-faced pastor immediately understood. Without a word, he dipped a finger in his tea and wrote a few characters on the table. Edward lowered his eyes and saw: Your love rival.
Edward covered his face. First, that's completely out of nowhere. How am I supposed to know what you mean? He wiped away the characters Elwin had written and gave him a look.
The baby-faced pastor got the message and wrote a few more characters: Francois, the young master of Highland Castle, one of the princess's suitors.
Edward wrote on the tea table: How strong is he?
The baby-faced pastor rolled his eyes and wrote two characters: Idiot...
After writing that, the baby-faced pastor seemed to think he'd strained his finger, and gently rubbed it. Edward nodded in understanding, wiped away the water, and silently resumed drinking his tea.
About half an hour passed, and night fell completely. Carriages streamed through the gates of the Duke's Mansion. All the prominent figures of White Eagle City had arrived.
A servant came to escort them to dinner. Edward and the others followed him into the brightly lit grand dining hall.
A long table stood in the middle of the dining hall, laid with a tablecloth and neatly arranged cups and plates. A row of servers stood at attention. As guests arrived, they escorted them one by one to their seats. Edward thought Butler Hunter had truly been meticulous in arranging everything.
But when he found his seat, he suddenly felt that something was off.
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