Shiro smiled as he gazed into Yuto’s eyes. Like a finely honed scalpel, his gaze sought to cut away Yuto’s pretense and glimpse the truth beneath.

Yuto recognized that look. Shiro had always excelled at seeing the truth behind people’s masks.

In the past, Yuto had never worn a mask before Shiro, never put on a false act. He had considered Shiro a brother. Back then, he had taken that keen scrutiny for circumspection. All the more reason to be genuine with him.

But things were different now. Now, Yuto was showing Shiro a lie.

'Just as you did.'

The helping hand offered when Belkain faltered. The backs pressed together on the battlefield. The blood shed fighting Eclipse. The vows they had shared.

All of it had been a lie.

'I was sincere with you. Not once did I ever imagine you were lying to me.'

Now Yuto had to do the same. It was a terrible thing, having to emulate the person he hated most.

Yuto hid murderous intent behind his smile, while Shiro hid a scalpel behind his benevolence. A taut silence stretched between their masks.

The air between them tightened. The distinguished guests interpreted it as the tension of a deeply moving encounter, but the reality was nothing of the sort. Shiro kept trying to probe beneath Yuto’s surface, and Yuto kept his mask firmly in place to prevent it.

How much time had passed? It could only have been an instant, yet to Yuto it felt longer than an hour on the battlefield.

“Brother.”

A clear voice gently parted the razor-edged silence. Shirin Ristal laid a light hand on Shiro’s elbow.

“Please don’t put Master Yuto on the spot. If he was a subject of Ristal, isn’t it only natural for him to be nervous upon meeting us?”

With that, Shirin gave Yuto a playful yet warm smile. Her voice and smile dispelled the subtle pressure radiating from Shiro.

“Master Yuto, my brother has always been like this. Whenever he encounters someone of exceptional talent, he simply cannot rest until he has looked into their heart.”

“Haha... Quite right. It is a bad habit of mine.”

Shiro laughed lightly. He was the first to put away his scalpel.

“I let my eagerness get the better of me and made Master Yuto uncomfortable. My apologies, Master Yuto. Please forget this unworthy prince’s discourtesy. I was so curious about the hero who saved Belkain that I momentarily forgot the nature of this occasion.”

Shiro bowed his head courteously. It was excessively courteous for a prince apologizing to a mere boy from the slums. His extraordinary treatment of Yuto even drew quiet gasps from the surrounding nobles.

“Not at all, Your Highness. It was I who momentarily lost my senses, overwhelmed by your noble presence.”

Yuto answered with a calm that was hell to maintain. The metallic taste of blood in his mouth sharpened his mind. He could not afford to relax. Shiro had only put the scalpel away for a moment. At the slightest opening, that blade would slash Yuto’s mask to ribbons.

Shirin intervened once more, taking a step closer to Yuto. The faint floral fragrance she wore tickled his nose. He had breathed it in countless times in his previous life. It was his favorite scent.

“My congratulations are overdue. Master Yuto, I wish you a very happy birthday.”

Shirin bowed gracefully to him. The skirts of her pure-white dress spread like petals.

“My brother may not have finished speaking, but this is Master Yuto’s birthday party. Shouldn’t we first observe the courtesies appropriate to the occasion?”

Straightening, Shirin smiled softly at Shiro, her eyes curving with amusement. Shiro gave a slight shrug, the very picture of an indulgent older brother helpless against his younger sister.

Shirin looked at Yuto again. Her eyes held the same brilliance as Shiro’s, but none of his chill. Instead, they held the warmth Yuto had fallen in love with.

She had been like this in his previous life, too.

Whenever Shiro and Yuto had one of their rare arguments, she had always been the one to ease the tension between them. Whenever the weight of kingship exhausted Yuto, she had been the woman at his side, silently offering him tea.

The woman he had loved most.

“There are many ways the royal house of Ristal might thank the man who preserved Belkain’s repose, but...”

Shirin extended a pale, slender hand to Yuto.

“Before I am a princess, I am an uninvited guest at this party. And I believe the best way to earn forgiveness for such an intrusion is to repay it by becoming the flower of the party.”

Her lips curved into a shy smile as she glanced at Levian.

“Lady Levian. Might I borrow him for a moment?”

Shirin’s request was polite. Yet coming from a princess, that politeness made it little different from an order that could not be refused. Even so, what her eyes held as she looked at Levian was not royal authority, but the frankness and apology of a girl her own age.

Meeting those eyes, Levian felt a strange emotion.

It was not aversion. Shirin Ristal asking Yuto for a waltz was an excellent development for House Marigold, which sponsored him and had hosted this party. The mere fact that Ristal’s princess had personally asked him to dance would elevate Yuto’s standing above that of any noble in the hall.

She understood it intellectually. This was a good thing. The gleam in her father Rufus’s eyes proved it.

And yet.

'What is... this feeling...?'

Levian quietly released Yuto’s arm. In that brief instant, she felt the warmth he had left on her arm fading.

Strangely, she regretted its loss. Regret? Over what? She could not understand her own feelings. Yuto was her father’s benefactor, and House Marigold’s. He was dependable, but full of mysteries.

Yielding her place to Ristal’s princess was both courteous and profitable. That was how a merchant should see it. There was no reason to hesitate or feel regret.

That should have been true. So why had she felt a sharp prick in her heart the moment she saw Shirin reach toward Yuto?

“Of course, Your Highness.”

Levian stepped back with a flawless smile. It held not the slightest trace of displeasure. Outwardly, at least.

“Yuto is today’s guest of honor. There is no reason to deny him the pleasure of your company. I hope you both enjoy yourselves.”

Shirin nodded in gratitude for Levian’s consideration, then turned her bright smile toward Yuto.

“Will you join me for a dance?”

Yuto looked down at Shirin’s hand.

It was pale and slender.

He remembered that hand. In his previous life, he had held it and pressed his lips to it. He had also watched it become drenched in blood and grow cold.

His heart lurched. Emotion whirled within him like madness. He suppressed it. Here, he had to be a boy meeting Shirin Ristal for the first time.

“I am not so discourteous as to refuse a princess’s request.”

Yuto smiled gently and took Shirin’s hand. At the warmth passing through her fingertips, he paused to steady his breathing.

It was warm. The warmth of someone alive.

The nobles cleared a path. The princess in her pure-white dress and the boy in his black suit took their places in the center of the hall.

The conductor swiftly read the mood. At his signal, the violinists drew their bows in slow strokes. A majestic yet wistful prelude began.

Yuto rested a hand on Shirin’s waist, lightly enough to remain within the bounds of propriety.

Shirin placed her hand on his shoulder. Their feet moved in unison.

He had attended countless balls as a king in his previous life. With all those memories intact, Yuto led, and Shirin naturally surrendered herself to his guidance.

Though this was their first dance, they moved in harmony as if they had danced together dozens of times. That was only natural, too. In his previous life, Yuto had always danced with Shirin.

As Shirin’s steps followed his lead, her pure-white skirts caught the air and swept in circles. Beneath the chandeliers, her golden hair shone brilliantly.

The nobles in the hall watched in a daze. It was not the skill of their dancing that enthralled them. The picture the boy and girl created was simply too beautiful.

“Remarkable,” Shirin murmured.

This was not how a boy from the slums could dance. His lead was more natural than hers, though she had been born and raised in a palace. She sensed the incongruity, yet strangely, it did not trouble her. Rather, entrusting herself to Yuto’s lead felt natural.

“Is this how people dance in Ristal’s slums?”

It was a teasing question. Yuto answered with a faint curve of his lips.

“Everything I know, I learned from Lady Levian. My skills are lacking, so you had best be careful, Your Highness. I may step on your feet.”

“Liar.”

Shirin chuckled.

“Someone who has merely taken lessons does not lead like this. Your hands feel as though they are accustomed to guiding me.”

“You flatter me.”

Yuto calmly deflected her remark and drew her closer by the waist. As they turned a full circle, her skirts flared wide, and she nestled naturally into his arms.

They were less than a handspan apart. Shirin looked up into Yuto’s eyes. At this distance, they could feel each other’s breath.

Her lips moved. Her voice was very quiet, so faint beneath the music and the nobles’ murmurs that only Yuto could hear it.

“Master Yuto.”

The playfulness had left her voice. Her smile remained, but the light in her eyes had subtly changed.

“What my brother just said probably isn’t the whole reason he came to this party.”

Yuto’s gaze wavered almost imperceptibly.

“My brother is... the most benevolent and noble person I know. At least, he has always been so before others.”

Shirin’s hand gently gripped Yuto’s shoulder.

“But sometimes... Only very rarely.”

Shirin looked straight up into his eyes. Deep in her gaze flickered something she had long kept buried.

“There are times when his smile frightens me. Master Yuto... you should be cautious with my brother. Very cautious.”

The orchestra played on. Yuto continued to lead without faltering, and Shirin’s steps remained steady.

“... Your Highness.”

Yuto’s voice sank low. Beneath the music, it reached Shirin’s ears alone.

“Why are you telling me this about your brother, when we only met today?”

Shirin’s steps stiffened ever so slightly. Yuto adjusted his lead, smoothly concealing the lapse. To everyone watching, their dance remained breathtakingly beautiful.

“... I don’t know.”

Shirin lowered her head a little as she answered. Her voice held the bewilderment of someone who could not make sense of it herself.

“I just... felt I should tell you. You, in particular.”

Her eyes lifted to his again.

“I can’t explain it. Just dancing with you like this... made me feel I ought to tell you... that it would be all right to tell you. Strange, isn’t it?”

It was not strange. Yuto knew why. Just as the wraith of Belkain had dreamed of a son who had never existed, perhaps Shirin was experiencing a similar influence.

“I’m not saying... that my brother is a bad person. He is certainly a good man. He cherishes me, devotes himself to the kingdom, and shoulders the burden alone so that our father’s illness will not shake the country.”

Shirin’s voice grew thin.

“It’s only that I sometimes... feel afraid, all on my own. Perhaps I’m imagining things. But since my brother has taken an interest in you...”

Yuto drew her closer by the waist. Her lips approached his ear.

“Please don’t take the goodwill my brother shows you at face value.”

Yuto’s hand tightened slightly. It trembled almost imperceptibly against her waist. Perhaps feeling that tremor, Shirin leaned back a little and looked up into his eyes.

A smile remained on his face. But deep within his eyes, she saw an indescribably profound emotion surging in waves.

It was neither sorrow, nor anger, nor hatred, but all of them tangled together.

For an instant, Shirin stopped breathing. Why did Yuto have that look in his eyes? Why was she telling him these things? She understood none of it.

“Your Highness,” Yuto said.

The emotion in his eyes was no longer visible, and his voice was calm.

“I will remember.”

At his answer, Shirin’s lips parted, but no words followed. Instead, she quietly nodded.

The music ended.