Can the Tarot Club Still Meet?

"Ah!"

A shriek was followed by the scraping sound of high heels slipping on the floor, and then a dull thud.

Exclamations of surprise and concern erupted from the surroundings.

Altair, with her high heel snapping, had been forced to sit down on the floor.

Hether, covering her mouth, struggled to suppress her laughter. Once she managed to compose herself, she quickly stepped forward to help Altair up, asking with concern, "Are you alright? Did you hurt yourself? Should I call a doctor for you?"

Altair blinked hard, then squeezed her eyes shut, forcing back the stinging tears. She managed a pained, wronged tone, "Hether sister, I think I twisted my ankle. It hurts so much right now."

"How could you twist your ankle, poor Altair?" Hether exclaimed loudly, looking around. She urgently addressed the servants, "You all come here and help me take Countess Sheffield back to her room."

The exaggerated acting of the two women stunned those around them.

Once the servants arrived, they helped Altair limp away from the private room.

After the doctor finished applying medicine to Altair's ankle and left, Hether, who had been standing nearby, praised her, "Your little brain is truly clever. In just that short moment, you came up with a way to avoid tonight's ball."

Altair chuckled lightly after returning to normal, saying casually, "It was a last resort. If I don't suffer a little now, who knows what I'll encounter tonight."

"But the result is quite good. At least I won't have to endure the scorching heat outside."

She still found it difficult to accept dancing with other men. This was the perfect opportunity to use her feigned injury to avoid dancing and escape.

Night fell, and twilight flowed through the Gothic window carvings, dimming the gilded patterns of the crystal chandeliers in the ballroom.

The newly installed electric lights hanging from the ceiling suddenly illuminated, casting a cold white cascade that clearly revealed the lace trim on the ladies' skirts and the embroidery on the gentlemen's ties.

Altair had still not managed to avoid the invitation to the ball. Today, the venue was packed with influential figures, with important personnel from all levels of the Kingdom of Ruun present.

Looking at the scene, Altair's thought was: If a large-yield aerial bomb were detonated here, half of Ruun would probably collapse.

Altair shook her head helplessly at this thought, feeling that she was becoming increasingly abnormal.

After entering the ballroom, Altair, supported by a servant, walked to the edge and sat on a long bench, eating snacks and waiting for the banquet to end.

Elderly nobles and weakened females often came here to rest, or guests would sit here to converse during breaks in the dance music and enjoy refreshments.

Altair found these people who came to rest to be quite bothersome. Everyone seemed to approach her to ask why she was sitting there the whole time and why she wasn't participating in the ball.

It was understandable for them to think this way. After all, a ball was meant for dancing and socializing. Furthermore, during dance classes, they were taught to always be prepared to accept an invitation to dance.

"Madam, are you feeling unwell? I've seen you sitting here since the ball began."

Hearing this, Altair, as usual, put down her cake fork and looked up. She found a rather youthful-looking young man sitting opposite her. Upon seeing Altair's face, he continued, "You look very much like a friend of mine. Although we only met once, our conversation that time was quite pleasant."

Looking at the young man opposite her, whose lips curved into a slight smile, Altair felt a mix of emotions. It was like being caught in an online deception after meeting in person.

Seeing Altair's reaction, the young man quickly said, "I forgot to introduce myself, I..."

"I know your name, Grellint," Altair interrupted him before he could finish.

Grellint was puzzled by the young lady knowing his name, but more so surprised. His excitement was evident as he curiously asked, "Madam, may I know your command?"

Altair could only shake her head slightly and say helplessly, "Altair Sheffield, or Lucius Sheffield."

Hearing Altair's answer, Grellint was utterly shocked. He pointed at Altair with a trembling finger and asked curiously, "You say you are Lucius? How is that possible! When I met him, he was clearly wearing men's attire."

Altair felt no emotional turmoil at Grellint's words, but she did feel her previous actions were unnecessary.

Altair shook her head at Grellint and said, "This is my true appearance. As for wearing men's clothes to the 'memorial service' last time, it was to handle a special matter. Also, you should put your finger down; that behavior is very impolite."

Hearing Altair's reminder, Grellint looked at his hand and realized he had indeed been pointing rudely. He immediately withdrew his hand, simultaneously pondering the truth of Altair's words.

Although this world was inherently special and had been guided by Rochelle, women wearing men's attire was indeed rare. After all, Rochelle was just a drop of ink and couldn't infect an entire lake.

Perhaps it was because Altair's appearance was beautiful and not masculine, or perhaps because of the "special circumstances" that day, Grellint accepted Altair's explanation and said sincerely:

"Lu... I'm sorry, Altair, I didn't know that was the day your father's body returned. After I saw the list, I intended to find you and apologize, but I never saw you again until after the 'memorial service'."

As for her original body's father's death, Altair no longer felt the instinctive sadness she did when she first transmigrated. Perhaps it was because she had completely taken over this body.

Altair said to Grellint in a calm tone, "Ignorance is no offense. You didn't know the circumstances at the time, and I don't feel you offended me in any way. Besides, didn't you say later that you were looking for me to apologize? I accept your apology."

Hearing Altair's words, Grellint's usual smile returned. "Actually, I wrote to you after that, but it was always your servants who replied."

"Perhaps I didn't have time to reply then. Since my father's passing, I've been very busy. Also, you should know that every noble receives countless letters every day these past few months, so I had my servants specifically reply to banquet invitations. Perhaps your letter was one of them," Altair explained, using her usual rhetoric for such matters.

"I understand," Grellint said, not surprised by her answer, as he would have done the same. He glanced around and cautiously added, "I've actually gained some 'mysticism' knowledge using the method you mentioned before. I'm not as clueless as I used to be."

"We've also re-established the Mysticism Banquet. Would you like to join us?"

This question left Altair completely silent. She hadn't expected her casual remark to have such an impact. If they were to come into contact with 'Extraordinaries' prematurely, wouldn't the later 'Tarot Society' turn into just two people holding a 'meeting' for Klein?