The day of Ariadne De Mare’s debutante ball was a brilliant, late-summer afternoon. High skies stretched over the city, with fluffy clouds snagged lightly against the western horizon.
On a day like this, a typical debutante would be anchored before her vanity, fretting over her makeup and ensuring the heat didn’t undo hours of preparation. Ariadne, however, had been on her feet since the crack of dawn, commanding nearly forty servants. She was transforming the foyer and the grand hall of the De Mare Mansion into a ballroom fit for the evening’s festivities.
“Over there! You, with the flowering trees—careful, don’t drag them! Set them exactly where we marked.”
If Ariadne lacked a natural eye for fashion and the ephemeral trends of high society, Sancha more than compensated for it. Whenever Ariadne described an interior design from her memories—or more accurately, a vivid, lingering image of a scene from her past life—Sancha transformed the description into a tangible reality with effortless grace.
“Tie the lily bouquets to the railings as planned! Move the flowering branches to the center!”
Ariadne had banished the ‘story-telling tapestries’ that were the standard requirement for any respectable ballroom. Instead of commissioning custom tablecloths or expensive drapery, she had opted for the simple white linens already in the family’s possession, keeping the aesthetic uniform and the costs controlled.
In their place, she had sent men to the forests of the Bergamo estate to harvest a massive haul of white crape myrtle. The shrubs, draped in cascading white blossoms during the late summer, were arranged into custom vases and pots. It created an indoor forest—a seamless, dreamlike transition that made guests feel as though they were stepping into the heart of the woods the moment they crossed the threshold.
The only jarring note in the hall was the De Mare family crest, which still loomed on the wall, serving as a cold reminder of the room’s true purpose. The blue-violet dolphin of the house and the ethereal white of the crape myrtle clashed, but there was no escaping it.
‘I have to accommodate the man who holds the purse strings.’
Cardinal Del Mare had not granted permission for this ball out of a sudden surge of affection for his second daughter. It was an investment; he intended to use the evening to broadcast the De Mare family’s growing influence in San Carlo.
The De Mare family had unveiled a new ‘product’—Ariadne De Mare—and the city had been invited to inspect the quality.
Just as a brand name is essential to an advertisement, the family’s blue-violet crest had to be visible, even if it marred the delicate garden she had cultivated.
“Young Lady, it looks so unique and luxurious! I never imagined it could look like this.”
Sancha sighed in genuine admiration, having finished the finishing touch: clusters of fresh lilies tied to the railings.
“Everything is so white, the family crest does look a bit out of place, doesn’t it?”
Ariadne found it difficult to judge the nuance of color combinations herself, but she trusted Sancha’s instincts implicitly.
“If we had been able to source blue-toned flowers, it would have been harmonious…”
“Is there any way to track some down now?”
“I’ve scoured every florist in the city, but no one has blue blooms in this quantity. This is the best we can do for today.”
Sancha looked at her mistress, who seemed momentarily discouraged, and offered a soft, reassuring smile.
“Don’t worry, My Lady. The starkness only emphasizes the theme of a ‘pure white debutante.’ It’s elegant and dreamlike. Everything will be perfect.”
1.
Just as Sancha said, the scent of fresh, dewy grass from the newly cut flowers and trees swirled through the air, enveloping the entire De Mare Mansion. This style would become a sensational trend in the spring of 1123, the following year—a trend that, ironically, Isabella had originally spearheaded in the past.
1123 was also the year Ariadne had held her engagement ceremony with Count Cesare De Como in her previous life. For Isabella, who could only be satisfied if she stood superior to Ariadne in every way, that moment marked the beginning of her inability to outshine Ariadne financially.
And so, when Isabella realized she could not hold a ball as lavish as the one Ariadne’s fiancé would host, she used her head. To highlight her own fairy-like beauty, she had begged her father to cut down a massive number of flowering trees from the Bergamo estate to use as decorations, effectively shifting the trend.
However, this trend did not last long. As every noble began logging their forests to decorate their balls, the small shrubs were nearly wiped out. As winter approached, the royal palace issued a ban because firewood for the commoners had become scarce due to the nobles’ excessive luxury. Even after fresh flowers and trees were banned, the trend limped on by using silk to make artificial flowers and fake trees, but they could never replicate the scent and vitality, so the trend soon changed.
“It will be fine for a time or two.”
While explaining the ball’s decor to Sancha, Ariadne felt a sharp prick in the ring finger of her left hand for some reason.
‘I must just be tired.’
At 8:00 AM, an unexpected gift arrived.
“Lady Ariadne, there are three carriages in front of the main gate. They say they’ve come from the Royal Palace…”
At the words of Niccolo the butler, Ariadne hurried out to the foyer. Thinking it strange, as the only thing she could expect from the palace was the Prince, she arrived at the entrance and covered her mouth with both hands in surprise at what she saw.
Purple hydrangeas filled the space in front of the De Mare Mansion’s entrance. The three open-topped carriages that had brought them were laden with such an abundance of fresh flowers that they could have cushioned someone jumping into them like clouds; it was truly a spectacular sight.
Sancha, who stood behind Ariadne, was on the verge of letting out a dolphin-like shriek.
“It is a message from His Highness.”
The attendant from the Prince’s Palace, who had driven the carriages, handed over Alfonso’s letter. Ariadne and Alfonso had exchanged so many notes that she could have drawn the gold-leaf pattern of the Prince’s Palace with her eyes closed.
「To my dear Ariadne.
The sight of purple hydrangeas blooming amidst white flowers is a memory I will keep for a long time. I hope you, too, will remember the hydrangeas of that day. I will arrive without delay; see you in a little while.
– Alfonso.」
“My goodness, what is all this?”
Sancha, who had followed behind Ariadne, exclaimed.
“It’s so beautiful, My Lady! These blue-violet flowers match our family crest perfectly!”
It was a thoughtful gift from Alfonso, who had learned through their correspondence that she had only ordered the minimum amount of lilies from the flower shop due to budget constraints. Since the shops in the city had no blue hydrangeas, he must have supplied them from the royal greenhouses.
To have a warm hand that provided exactly what she needed, exactly when she needed it, without a single word of vanity—the warmth of it made her heart swell.
However, Ariadne checked herself, refusing to fall into the trap of being moved. If she were to be defeated by that warmth, she would never want to return to her cold, solitary world. The day the golden Prince realized how wretched she truly was, she would be alone again, and that loneliness would be unbearable.
So, she teased Sancha with a playful laugh.
“You ought to hate this.”
“Pardon? Why?”
“The ball starts in four hours, and we have to weave all of these into the decorations before then.”
“What?!”
Sancha’s jaw dropped. A moment later, she began to scurry around the foyer like a frantic chick.
“If I ask the maids doing the menial work to help, will they willingly do so?”
“Do you have that many close friends?”
“About two or three… what should I do?”
Ariadne had a way for everything.
“You have to apply some lubricant.”
Ariadne sought out the butler, Niccolo. He had been unloading hydrangeas from a carriage, but at Ariadne’s call, he hurried over.
“Yes, My Lady?”
Ariadne offered a bright, disarming smile.
“Niccolo, I have always been deeply indebted to you, but I haven’t had the chance to thank you properly until now.”
“Oh, My Lady, what are you saying?”
Though his tone remained deferential, Niccolo’s gaze flickered with unease. He looked anxious, as if bracing for a request that would force him to overstep his duties.
Ariadne reached into her bodice and pulled out a gold coin. It was a one-ducato piece, ninety-six percent pure and minted in the Republic Of Porto.
“I need to borrow some of the chore maids for about two hours to assist Sancha. Could you mobilize them for me and explain things delicately to Mother? Consider this not just a fee for the trouble, but a token of my hope that you will continue to look after me.”
A spark ignited in Niccolo’s eyes. He was no stranger to receiving small sums for various favors, but the scale of this young lady’s gesture was entirely different. He had previously been reluctant to entangle himself with the second daughter—an illegitimate child in a house firmly under Lucrezia De Rossi’s thumb—but if she was handing over gold as a first greeting, he was more than willing to change his loyalties. Moreover, this was the day of the banquet that Cardinal Del Mare was monitoring closely. Lucrezia would hardly dare make a scene over a few maids being diverted for a short while.
“I would have done it for you even without this!”
Niccolo pocketed the coin faster than a crab could blink.
“Now, Sancha! Go up to the third floor and rouse those lazy girls!”
With Sancha now serving as the temporary overseer of the third-floor maids, Ariadne returned to her room on the second floor to groom herself. Sancha had wanted to handle the preparation personally, but she could not be in two places at once.
“My Lady, sit here!”
Ariadne’s preparation was assisted by the new maids, Anna and Maria. Anna took charge of hair and makeup, while Maria handled the attire. Anna had served as a lady’s maid at her previous place of employment and possessed a practiced hand.
“Your face is truly perfect for makeup. Your features are symmetrical; if we enhance their vibrancy, the result will be flawless.”
Her skin required no intervention. At fifteen, it was soft and naturally luminous. Anna used a thread to shape Ariadne’s thick eyebrows and tidy the stray hairs along her hairline, refining her aesthetic, before applying a delicate pink hue to bring vitality to her cheeks.
“I will focus on emphasizing your eyes.”
Ariadne’s natural expression tended toward the cold. While her eyes sparkled when stirred by emotion, her resting face appeared almost ruthless.
Using eyebrow pomade, Anna pulled the corners of Ariadne’s eyes slightly downward and filled in the gaps between her lashes, crafting the look of a conventional beauty. Once she had applied the maximum level of makeup permitted for a noble lady in San Carlo, a vision of painted elegance was revealed.
“My goodness, you look so lovely!”
“I can’t believe it’s you, My Lady!”
Even Maria, who had been busy ironing the clothes, paused to stare. The others, too, looked on, truly astonished by Ariadne De Mare’s transformation. Just then, Sancha finished the interior preparations and hurried into the room.
“My Lady! You’re truly beautiful!”
The maids erupted into a flurry of praise, but Ariadne shook her head with an embarrassed smile.
“If you keep saying that, I’ll start to believe it. Even flattery becomes rude when you overdo it.”
“It’s not flattery! You really are!”
Sancha stomped her foot, clearly frustrated. While Ariadne questioned her about the preparations outside, she subtly probed for news of her older sister.
“How is Isabella De Carlo? Has she been quiet?”
“She’s dressing quite loudly. Boxes from Collezioni Tailoring have been arriving every single day for the past week.”
Ariadne appeared relieved, if anything. Sancha looked perplexed; she had expected Ariadne to be furious that Isabella had splurged on such a vast array of dresses and accessories.
“Aren’t you upset? If I were in your shoes, I’d be fuming. I’d be thinking, ‘I’m the protagonist! Why is my sister getting a more expensive dress than me?’”
Ariadne replied with a serene smile.
“It’s a relief that she’s focusing her efforts in a constructive direction, isn’t it? Choosing a dress is, at the very least, an effort to improve herself. It’s a mercy that she isn’t trying to sabotage me instead.”
With Maria’s assistance, Ariadne stepped into the debutante dress that had arrived from Ragione Tailoring the previous week. It was an elegant Mikado silk gown with a sharp, pentagonal neckline. Though the heavy fabric was perhaps a bit dense for the transition from late summer to early autumn, it perfectly satisfied Ariadne’s request for a sturdy material—one that would hold her frame firmly and keep her silhouette razor-sharp. Below the waist, the skirt fell into a soft, graceful A-line, and the slightly extended train flowing from her hips accentuated her height and fine proportions.
Sancha took the ‘Heart of the Blue Deep’ from the ebony jewelry box she had retrieved from the safe and fastened it around Ariadne’s neck.
Dressed in her finery, Ariadne seemed to glow even from across the room.
“I can’t even tell if the dress is shining or if you are, My Lady. You are so beautiful!”
Ariadne, however, shifted uncomfortably.
“The dress is… the chest area feels strangely tight.”
“Beautiful clothes are naturally uncomfortable! It’s only because you have such a fine figure.”
Sancha brushed off the complaint, privately attributing it to the fact that her lady rarely had the chance to wear such exquisite garments.
“Did you wrap the cotton cloth as usual? It feels a bit loose.”
Sancha stuck out her tongue.
“You’re like a ghost. I wrapped it less than usual so the dress would drape better. Maria suggested a new item, so I gave it a try.”
Sancha held up something that looked like an iron clamp.
“It’s a hook. The ends are sharp; you catch them on both sides of the cotton cloth, and it grips the fabric tight. Maria mentioned a friend of hers uses them, so I brought it. Since you don’t have to tie a knot, the dress won’t wrinkle, and it keeps the silhouette perfectly smooth!”
Sancha spoke with pride, though Maria seemed slightly uncomfortable in the spotlight.
“It’s nothing, really. I didn’t do much…”
Sancha quickly reassured Ariadne.
“I asked around about these hooks, and even Madame Marini said they were perfectly fine. She says young ladies use them secretly all the time lately. It might be less compressive than tying it yourself, but since the dress material is so stiff, it will hold everything in place. There won’t be any problems!”
As the girls chatted excitedly, a maid knocked on the door.
“Second Young Lady, the guests are arriving one after another.”
Ariadne checked her reflection in the mirror one last time. She turned to her attendants with a radiant face.
“Now, shall we step out?”
“Yes!”