The Mask of Perfection
Laila slowly opened her eyes. It was dawn. Beyond the window, darkness still clung to the sky, and the hush of an hour when everyone lay asleep filled the room on all sides.
Rising from her bed, she shivered faintly. A dawn met after denying an entire day always arrived with a chill.
'I let my emotions run away with me.'
That was why Laila had turned back time.
She stirred herself upright, slow and languid, and once the last of her drowsiness had burned away, her face settled a touch harder than usual. Over the face of the 'real Laila'—the girl who had gone red to the ears listening to Ervan's heartfelt words—she drew the mask of perfection once more.
Then a day unfolded, identical in every detail to the one before her regression. At breakfast, Kyle advised her not to go wandering about late at night, and once the meal had ended, the Grand Duke and Grand Duchess summoned her to the study to inform her that a proposal of marriage had arrived.
Viscount Ervan, stepping down from the splendid carriage that had come through the front gates of the Grand Duke's residence, was dressed in a navy frock coat; a short while later, the Grand Duke and his wife called her into the drawing room.
When the eyes of the Grand Duke and Grand Duchess, seated at the head of the room, turned toward Laila, Ervan glanced back over his shoulder, rose from his seat, and greeted her.
"You've arrived, Viscount."
"...I must beg your generous forgiveness for calling on you unannounced and breaching etiquette so brazenly, Grand Duchess."
Under those colliding gazes, Laila smiled with practiced grace.
"Viscount Ervan. I little expected us to meet again so soon."
"Indeed, Grand Duchess. I apologize for startling you with so sudden a proposal."
It was a conversation they had already shared once. Watching Ervan's stiff, unfamiliar face, Laila recited the lines she had prepared in advance.
"I heard that after I returned home yesterday, you were granted an audience with His Majesty the Emperor."
Then, as though determined to leave Ervan no opening to slip a word in edgewise, she pressed on quickly.
"A marriage arranged by His Majesty's own hand leaves no room for refusal. However—this match has come upon us all so abruptly. Might you grant me time?"
Ervan studied her for a long moment.
It was because a strange sense of déjà vu had washed over him.
'Something's different.'
It felt as though he had forgotten something, yet no matter how he reached for it, it would not surface. A faint crease of frustration formed between his brows, but Laila paid it no mind and continued.
"Unions between great houses demand their proper formalities, do they not? What if we were to become engaged first?"
"..."
"Yes, that should serve. His Majesty's heart may yet change in the meantime."
The Grand Duke, who had seen through Laila's hidden intent, spoke up.
'I'm sorry, but the one searching for a way to break off this marriage will be our family.'
Laila told Ervan silently, in the privacy of her own mind.
As the Grand Duchess of Esdelheim, she intended to hold the initiative in every relationship she had. Whether she married or not, the single most decisive move—the one that could turn any situation to her advantage—was a card she alone held.
"Then I shall follow whatever course the Grand Duchess desires."
Ervan, silent for a moment, nodded without hesitation.
In truth, from the moment she had entered the drawing room, Laila had not once been able to look him squarely in the face.
Because she knew what was in Ervan's heart.
"For the duration of our engagement, I will discharge my duties as your fiancé faithfully. Grand Duchess."
Ervan was as honest as ever.
He had said he did not want this marriage, out of fear that the Emperor's purpose in arranging it might bring her harm. And yet, in the same breath, he had admitted that he held a genuine fondness for her.
And now that she had turned back time, she was forced to pretend she knew none of it.
That truth sat in her like guilt, pressing down heavy on her chest.
"Then I shall report to His Majesty that every will here is in accord."
The Grand Duke rose from his seat. The Grand Duchess, without sparing Ervan so much as a word, followed him out of the drawing room.
Left alone with Ervan, the drawing room filled with silence once more. Laila called for her maid.
"Mary, inform the Viscount's coachman that—"
"You seem in a great hurry, Grand Duchess."
Ervan, who had risen to see the Grand Duke and his wife out, dropped back onto the sofa with a thump. Then, with artful nonchalance, he lifted the teacup set before him.
"It's still hot."
Laila had no intention of granting him another moment for private conversation. But turning out a guest before his tea had even cooled was a breach of etiquette several degrees too far.
With a small sigh, Laila reluctantly settled back into her seat and raised her own cup. Contrary to his claim, the tea had cooled to a pleasant lukewarm—but she let nothing of it show.
"How is your hand, Grand Duchess?"
Laila's heart dropped like a stone, and her fist clenched tight.
'This is exactly why I wanted to send him away quickly.'
She despised how her composure wavered at a single note of concern in his voice. Laila took a sip of her tea, then answered evenly.
"It has healed well enough."
"I'm glad to hear it."
"You need worry yourself no further, Viscount. A public arrangement born of political necessity has no use for private feelings."
The corner of Ervan's mouth curled upward.
"A public arrangement, yes—and yet I find I cannot neglect my duties as a fiancé."
He leaned forward in one unhurried motion, catching and holding Laila's gaze. At last, she met his eyes head-on.
Her heart began to thunder all over again.
"Lest there be any misunderstanding, allow me to say this plainly: this marriage was none of my doing."
"I know."
"You do know. How reassuring. Then perhaps you know this as well?"
Laila caught her lower lip between her teeth. She had guessed what was coming.
"Marriage aside, I have an interest in you, Grand Duchess."
"...Viscount."
"I am glad we will be seeing a great deal more of each other. That is my honest heart, plainly spoken."
That voice—easygoing and yet utterly unshakable—rang in Laila's ears.
Flustered that events were slipping out of her control, Laila nonetheless could not deny the way her heart still raced.
She had rewound time to bury those feelings. She had pushed him away with perfect composure—and still, Ervan had come knocking once more upon the closed door of her heart.
When word of Laila and Ervan's engagement broke, high society was set ablaze.
The betrothal of Grand Duchess Laila of Esdelheim—daughter of the most formidable house in the Empire—to Viscount Ervan, a newly ennobled man of common birth, became the most titillating gossip to pass between every young lady and noble matron in society, traded back and forth for days.
When it spread that the two had met at the Imperial Palace the very day before Ervan dispatched his proposal, the more gossip-hungry among them even sought out Princess Ariel to pry at the story behind it.
And the moment the rumors began to swell and distort with embellishment, Laila moved swiftly, hosting a tea party and inviting the young ladies of her acquaintance.
At first the guests did no more than trade wary glances, but at Laila's invitation—"if there is anything you wish to know, please ask freely"—they began to open up, one by one.
"Honestly, it did shock me."
"Me as well."
Lady Vena and Lady Della, seated side by side, chattered away as they picked at the desserts laid before them. The two were famously at each other's throats, yet when it came to the thrilling romance unfolding before their eyes, they made a remarkably well-matched pair.
They had been locked in a silent battle of nerves over the last remaining macaron, and only turned docile once Laila summoned a maid to bring a fresh plate.
"I always assumed Lady Laila would marry into the imperial family."
"I confess I wondered whether she might never marry at all. After all, it's true there isn't a single young lord alive who could match Lady Laila's renown, isn't it?"
"Oh my, that much is true!"
The ladies each added their own commentary between giggles.
"And what sort of man is Lord Ervan? He is a little intimidating, I'll admit... but unlike the young lords we've all watched since childhood, there's something rather dashing about him, isn't there?"
"Exactly! He's cut from an entirely different cloth than all those delicate noble sons—he has an aura about him, you know? I'm quite certain he used that very aura to crush every last enemy on the battlefield. And don't even get me started on that handsome face!"
Della, never one to miss an opening, seized the moment to preen and boast of her own fiancé.
"Why, he'd give our Felix quite a run for his money. You all do remember that Felix was the champion of the last hunting contest, don't you?"
"And the champion of this year's hunting contest was Lord Ervan."
Della darted a sidelong glare at Vena for the addendum, then beamed and leaned in a little closer to Laila.
"Come to think of it, Lady Laila and I have gained one more thing in common, don't we? We each have a fiancé now."
Laila offered Della a faint smile, then turned to the ladies and spoke with modest grace.