The Proposal I Never Made

"Forgive me for being late."

"Countess Oscar! We thought you weren't coming today!"

So that was why one seat had been sitting empty all along.

The moment the woman appeared, the entire table rose to greet her.

Sylvia Oscar slipped naturally into the seat across from me—the one that had been left vacant.

Of course. As if a gathering like this could ever happen without you.

I'd half suspected I might run into her here. And sure enough, there she was.

Goodness, she's gone all out again today.

I, who had been sipping my tea in silence, stole a glance at Sylvia.

Draped in a gown of deep rose pink that most women wouldn't dare attempt, she looked for all the world like a single blooming rose.

Sheer layers of lace cascaded over a corset that cinched her waist, and a heavy pearl necklace draped along her neckline shimmered like the foam of breaking waves.

The fresh flower arrangement perched atop her head could easily have tipped into excess, but Sylvia carried even that off flawlessly.

Truly, the Flower of High Society.

"Oh my, Countess. You look lovelier than ever today."

"It's true! I mistook you for a walking bouquet."

"You flatter me far too much, all of you."

Hohoho. Hahaha.

The quintessential ritual of salon pleasantries unfolded around the table.

At all that hollow exchange, I simply offered a faint smile.

Wow... I really, really want to go home.

The truth was, I hadn't walked into this lion's den entirely unprepared.

How to win over society ladies—a step-by-step guide.

Step one:build them up.

"Oh, that reminds me, Countess Brunhilt—I hear your husband is planning to build a grand resort on your lands? The rainy season is coming, so you must be worried."

"Ah, I really don't concern myself with my husband's business..."

"But the county is famous for its breathtaking scenery, isn't it? Once construction is complete, you'll be perfectly positioned to profit from the tourist trade."

"Oh—oh my. Is that so?"

At the mention of vast wealth to be had, the countess's eyes lit up like lamps.

"Hoho. Then when it's finished, I shall invite everyone here to be my first guests~"

"Wow, I can't wait!"

Goaded on by the other ladies, the countess puffed up her shoulders with pride.

Now then, on to step two:humble yourself.

"Oh dear, I do apologize. I've gone and launched into business talk again. I'm sure the rest of you found that dreadfully dull."

"What? No, no, not at all. Quite the opposite—it was fascinating. Where else would we hear talk like this, if not from a marchioness?"

"Exactly."

The moment I tactfully stepped back, the countess who'd been preening a moment ago hurried to wave her head in denial. Others chimed in with eager agreement.

"Still, I'd much rather hear your stories. What's in fashion these days, what gossip is making the rounds. When it comes to society, you ladies are all far more seasoned veterans than I."

And for the finishing touch—a sprinkling of sweet sugar on top.

The moment I gracefully handed the conversation over, the ladies surged forward like a tide.

"Why, it's nothing at all~ Let's see. Oh, have you heard? Apparently, Count Briegel's second daughter..."

"That's nothing compared to what I've heard. You know the Jannet baronial family, don't you? Well, the baroness..."

When I lowered my posture and begged them to enlighten me, the noblewomen's eyes gleamed as they pounced on the opening—so eager, in fact, that they began competing over whose story would be the juicier.

Just as the whole affair seemed to be winding down in reasonably amicable fashion—

"Oh, that's right. I did hear something—that you and Countess Oscar are quite close, Marchioness?"

"Pardon? Ah—yes. Well..."

That Sylvia and I were friends.

I wondered whether the word 'friends' truly applied, but I let it slide with a vague noncommittal murmur.

Denying it outright would only stir up pointless controversy.

So there I was, handling things with considerable finesse—

When a pattering sound broke the air.

"C-Countess? Whatever is the matter?!"

Sylvia, seated across from me, suddenly bit down on her lip—and then tears came spilling from those golden eyes, drop after drop.

Before long, her slender shoulders were trembling with quiet sobs.

What—what on earth is she doing?

"Oh... no, I'm so sorry. I don't know what came over me. Truly."

She drew out a handkerchief and dabbed at her eyes with an embarrassed little smile, then insisted we mustn't let her spoil our conversation and to please carry on.

As if anyone could, after that.

"The truth is, I wavered all morning about whether to come at all. I thought... you might find my presence unwelcome, Marchioness. But you seemed so glad to see me, and that put my heart at ease..."

"...I did?"

Well, yes, obviously you are unwelcome—but still.

I'm hardly foolish enough to show it that openly.

"And why on earth would I find you unwelcome, Countess?"

"Well... because I know your secret, Marchioness. I was afraid I might have wounded your pride by coming."

"Did you just say—my secret?"

At that intriguing morsel, the ears of every noblewoman at the table pricked up like hounds on a scent.

Mine included, of course.

My secret?

What, that the transmigrator had entered and left my body? That thanks to that woman's reckless escapades, my life had been twisted into a hopeless knot? Or perhaps that it wasn't me but that woman who had seduced Leon Obsidian?

...There are too many to even guess.

"I know I ought to keep silent for your sake, Marchioness. But for the sake of my dear brother's honor, I found the courage to come here today. Because after all... we nearly became family, you and I."

"Family? Countess, whatever do you mean?"

Exactly. What on earth had she been babbling about this whole time?

I stared at her, utterly dumbfounded—and Sylvia, staring right back at me, let her eyes curve into the faintest crescent of a smile.

And then—

"The Marchioness... shared something very special with my brother."

"What?! Is that true?!"

"Yes. Until very recently, the two of them were lovers—promised to one another, with their future laid out before them."

Sylvia's bombshell sent the table into an uproar.

There were those frozen mid-gasp, mouths hanging open. Those who scoffed, refusing to believe such nonsense. The young ladies, plunged into despair, now clutching at this newfound hope as if it were a lifeline.

And then...

Sylvia Oscar, the corner of her mouth curling up ever so slightly as she watched me.

That woman has genuinely lost her mind.

"Now that I think of it, there were rumors going around for ages, weren't there? That the two of them were together."

"Wasn't that just Jerome Valentine running his mouth? That's what I heard, anyway."

"I heard those rumors too! And honestly, I always thought the Marchioness and Jerome Valentine made such a striking pair. To think they were actually lovers!"

Having apparently decided to believe it no matter what, the young ladies descended on the gossip with eyes ablaze.

"Come to think of it, was it not at last year's Festival of Holy Light? I could have sworn I saw the two of them together. The way they gazed at each other—so tender, I simply couldn't..."

"I wasn't in attendance that year."

"...Ah. Th-that's so? Then I suppose I must have seen it somewhere else."

Caught red-handed in her fabrication, the young lady shot me a look that plainly said, so what? It's true anyway, isn't it?—and tossed her head with a sniff.

Wow. The sheer nerve.

"I... Marchioness. Is what Countess Oscar says true?"

"Of course not."

I, who had held my peace until now, shook my head.

"Forgive me—I was so taken aback that I momentarily lost the power of speech. Now then. Countess Oscar? What exactly possessed you to spin such a fabrication—and to my face, no less?"

At the steel in my voice, murmurs of that's more like it rippled around the table.

Though there were still a few holdouts who refused to abandon their suspicions, insisting that Countess Oscar was surely incapable of lying.

"How cruel you are, Marchioness. My brother loved you with all his heart. And you cast that love aside overnight, just like this. Ohh!"

Tears brimming, Sylvia pressed a hand to her breast and cried out—a picture-perfect image of a tragic heroine betrayed by the man she loved.

But seriously, what does she think she has to stand on, going this far?

She must have some ace up her sleeve. No one could carry on like this otherwise.

"Of course, I know full well that the Grand Duke is a match beyond all compare. But still—how could you treat my brother so heartlessly? You were lovers who truly loved one another, were you not?"

"Countess, I'm sorry, but I can't listen to another word. If you persist in these false claims, I shall be forced to file a formal protest with the House of Oscar—"

"The liar here isn't me, Marchioness—it's you! You gave my brother a ring—and went so far as to propose!"

I'm sorry—what? A ring?

"Did she just say a proposal? And a ring, of all things?"

"If that isn't the truth, then I suppose Countess Oscar suffers from delusions."

Either way, this should be entertaining, the crowd seemed to agree, turning eyes sparkling with anticipation on Sylvia and me.

I, on the other hand, frowned.

Because a very bad feeling was crawling up my spine.

She just said a ring, didn't she?

Unfortunately, I had recently lost a ring. My ring.

And now here was a ring, surfacing at precisely this moment.

Don't tell me...

A chill ran down my spine as I stared at Sylvia in silence.

Sylvia, meeting my gaze just as steadily, had a sudden flash of light in her pupils—and the corners of her crimson lips began, ever so slowly, to curl upward.