"Ah!"
A scream rang out first, followed by the scrape of a high heel slipping across the floor. The next second, a dull thud sounded.
All around them, people cried out in alarm and called out with concern.
Altair had been forced to sit down on the floor when her high heel snapped.
Hether clamped a hand over her mouth, trying hard not to laugh. After forcing herself to calm down, she hurried over to help Altair up and asked with concern, "Are you all right? Did you hurt yourself? Should I call a doctor?"
Altair blinked hard, then squeezed her eyes shut, forcing the soreness in them to bring on tears. She managed to squeeze some out and said plaintively, "Sister Hether, I think I twisted my ankle. It hurts so much."
"How could you have twisted your ankle, poor Altair?" Hether exclaimed loudly. She looked around and said anxiously to the servants, "You there, come help me get Earl Sheffield back to her room."
Their exaggerated acting stunned everyone around them.
When the servants arrived, they helped Altair hobble out of the private room.
After the doctor had finished treating Altair's ankle and left, Hether stood nearby and praised her. "You really are clever. You came up with a way to get out of tonight's ball in no time at all."
Once she had recovered, Altair chuckled twice and said casually, "It was the only thing I could do. If I don't suffer a little now, who knows what might happen tonight?"
"But all things considered, this worked out pretty well. At least I don't have to roast in the heat outside."
He still couldn't bring himself to dance with other men. This gave him the perfect excuse to avoid being set up and escape having to dance.
Night fell. Twilight flowed through the tracery of the Gothic windows, dimming the gilded patterns on the crystal chandeliers in the ballroom.
The modern electric lights suspended from the ceiling suddenly blazed to life. Cold white light poured down, illuminating every lace frill on the ladies' gowns and every embroidered detail on the gentlemen's ties.
Altair still hadn't managed to avoid the invitation to attend the ball. The room was filled with influential people; important figures from every level of the Loen Kingdom had gathered here.
Looking at the scene, Altair thought, If someone detonated a high-yield aerial bomb here, half the kingdom would probably collapse.
He shook his head helplessly at the thought. He felt like he was getting more and more abnormal.
After entering the ballroom, Altair had a servant help him to a seat along the edge of the room. He sat on a bench, eating dessert and waiting for the ball to end.
Elderly nobles and women who had run out of energy often came here to rest. Guests also sat down to chat between dances or while helping themselves to refreshments.
Altair found the people who came to rest there extremely irritating. Every single one of them asked him why he kept sitting there and why he wasn't joining the ball.
It was only natural for them to think that way. After all, a ball was for dancing and socializing, and Dance Class had taught him to always be ready to accept an invitation to dance.
"Miss, are you feeling unwell? I've seen you sitting here ever since the ball began."
Hearing this, Altair set down his cake fork as usual and looked up. A young man with a somewhat boyish appearance had already taken a seat opposite him. After seeing Altair's face, he continued, "I feel like you look a lot like a friend of mine. We only met once, but we had a pretty good conversation."
Looking at the young man before him, smiling slightly with the corners of his mouth turned up, Altair felt a jumble of emotions. It was like being caught after using a misleading photo online and meeting someone in person.
Seeing Altair's reaction, the young man hurriedly said, "I forgot to introduce myself. I'm—"
"I know your name, Grellint," Altair interrupted before he could finish.
Grellint was puzzled to hear the young woman say his name, but more than anything, he was delighted. His excitement was obvious, and he asked curiously, "May I know your esteemed name, miss?"
Altair could only give a slight shake of his head and reply helplessly, "Altair Sheffield—or Lucius Sheffield."
Grellint was utterly shocked by Altair's answer. His finger trembled as he pointed at her, and he asked in disbelief, "You mean you're Lucius? How is that possible? When I met him, he was dressed as a man."
Altair felt nothing at Grellint's words, though he did think that his earlier actions had been pointless.
Altair shook his head at Grellint and said, "This is what I really look like. As for why I wore men's clothes to the 'Memorial Service' last time, I had something special to take care of. And you should stop pointing at me. It's very rude."
At Altair's reminder, Grellint looked at his hand and realized that pointing at her had indeed been impolite. He withdrew it at once, while also considering whether Altair's explanation was genuine.
The world itself was an unusual place, and Roselle's influence had played a part in that. But women wearing men's clothes was still rare. After all, Roselle was only a drop of ink; he couldn't stain an entire lake.
Perhaps Altair was so beautiful that she didn't look like a man, or perhaps it was because of the "special circumstances" that day. Either way, Grellint accepted her explanation and said sincerely, "Lu... Sorry, Altair. I didn't know that was the day your father's body was brought back to the country. Once I saw the list, I wanted to find you and apologize, but I couldn't find you again before the 'Memorial Service' ended."
Altair no longer felt the instinctive sadness over his former body's father's death that he had felt when he first transmigrated. Perhaps it was because he had completely taken over this body.
Altair spoke to Grellint in an even tone. "You didn't know, so you weren't to blame. You had no idea what had happened at the time, so I don't feel that you did anything to offend me. Besides, didn't you say you were looking for me to apologize? I accept your apology."
Hearing Altair's reply, Grellint's usual smile returned to his face. "Actually, I've written to you since then, but your servant always replied."
"Maybe I didn't have time to write back then. I've been very busy ever since my father passed away. And you should know that all the nobles have been receiving who knows how many letters every day these past few months. I had my servants handle invitations to banquets, so perhaps you happened to write me one." Altair gave the same explanation he always did.
"I understand." Grellint wasn't surprised by her answer, since he did the same thing himself. He glanced around and lowered his voice. "I followed the method you mentioned before and actually learned a bit about 'mysticism.' I don't know absolutely nothing anymore."
"We've also reestablished the Mysticism Banquet. Would you like to join us?"
Altair fell completely silent. He hadn't expected his offhand remark to have this kind of effect. If they encountered Beyonders ahead of time, would the later Tarot Society end up being just two people holding meetings for Klein?
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