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"Of course. How could I refuse your invitation? As long as I'm not causing you trouble."
That truly was Ron's honest thought. A ball for high-ranking nobles—Michelle must have worked hard to get them in.
"Haha, no worries! I'm relieved you want to go."
Michelle laughed cheerfully, then began explaining the details.
"Originally, the ball was supposed to be held inside the academy, but Second Prince Belde changed the venue to the Royal Palace and even introduced class distinctions. I really can't understand what he's thinking."
Ron raised a brow.
"Wait, you said the Second Prince is still studying at the Academy? His Majesty the King is already sixty, right? That would make Prince Belde… impossible."
Michelle paused, then saw Ron's expression and gave a helpless, wry smile.
"You misunderstood. Prince Belde isn't the child of Karaman, the Royal Wife. Karaman never had children after becoming the Royal Wife—and apparently, she never participates in any social events."
"Prince Belde is eighteen this year, same age as me. He'll graduate in a few months."
Seeing Ron's unfamiliarity with royal affairs, Michelle cautiously continued:
"The First Prince, Felix, is twenty-seven. Born to the First Royal Wife. He is the rightful heir to the throne."
Michelle lowered his voice even further.
"Although Prince Felix is first in succession, His Majesty reportedly dislikes him and instead favors Second Prince Belde."
Ron blinked.
"Why? Is Prince Felix lacking in character?"
Michelle shook his head firmly.
"Quite the opposite. Prince Felix is extremely capable. Graduated top of his class, participated in government affairs, and earned high praise from many ministers."
Ron became even more confused.
From his brief conversation with King Meredith that morning, the King didn't seem incompetent—quite the opposite.
Michelle sighed.
"The King and the First Royal Wife had a political marriage. Their relationship is… strained. Later, His Majesty met the current Second Royal Wife—fell deeply in love—and slowly neglected the First Royal Wife. That's how things became like this."
Ron's mouth twitched.
"You know even this kind of inside information?"
Michelle gave an awkward smile. "I have… certain intel sources. But it's all rumor, who knows what's true."
"What's certain is this: His Majesty clearly favors Second Prince Belde. Otherwise, he wouldn't have allowed him to host a ball in the Royal Palace."
Ron nodded, inwardly marveling at the messy politics of the Royal Family.
Fortunately, his life had no political marriages.
No one dictated who he had to marry.
Long live freedom.
"I originally invited the star performer from the opera house to attend the Academy ball, but the theater owner said she had left. I felt it was a pity. But since the venue changed to the Royal Palace, it doesn't matter anymore."
Michelle sighed.
Ron immediately recalled that ethereal, pure voice from the opera house.
She left?
What a pity indeed.
"Time's almost up, Ron—let's go."
Michelle suddenly sprang to his feet.
"Go where?"
"To the ball, of course. Don't tell me you're backing out now?" Michelle's expression said I'll get mad.
"It's today?!"
Ron hadn't expected the ball to be tonight.
He had just left the Royal Palace this morning—and now he was heading back already.
After bidding farewell to Reagan, the two took a carriage to the Royal Palace.
Luxurious carriages lined the entrance, each adorned with unique family crests—clear symbols of the noble houses attending.
As soon as they got off the carriage, Michelle led Ron in a specific direction. Just when Ron wondered how they could enter without an invitation—
A clear, sweet, slightly annoyed female voice rang out:
"Michelle! Why are you so slow? The ball is about to begin!"
The speaker was a lovely girl with wavy pink-gold hair.
Beside her stood a familiar figure—Michelle's younger sister, Marina.
"Sorry, sorry. Let's go in quickly," Michelle replied casually.
The girl noticed Ron behind him and instantly understood the reason for their delay—Michelle must have already mentioned him.
"Nice to meet you, Baron Arnold," she said with flawless noble etiquette.
Michelle hurriedly interjected, "Not enough time—let's introduce ourselves properly inside."
"Alright, Marina, let's go," the girl said, and Marina smiled politely at Ron before following her.
Michelle gestured.
"Let's go too."
They followed the two young ladies to the main entrance. Ron watched as the girl handed her exquisite invitation to the guard.
"Countess Astrid, please enter."
The guard returned the invitation and stepped aside respectfully.
The three followed behind Astrid.
Now Ron understood Michelle's "method."
So he was freeloading…!
Where was that sunny, cheerful boy?
Ron suddenly felt betrayed.
"Ron, why are you looking at me like that?" Michelle asked suspiciously.
"You're imagining things. Hurry up—we're going to miss it."
"…Is that so?"
Before long, they arrived at the ballroom—a vast and magnificently decorated palace hall.
Red carpets, brilliant magic crystal chandeliers, endless food and wine, elegant musicians playing soft melodies… Every detail radiated luxury.
Ron couldn't help looking around.
Past or present, this was his first time attending a ball.
It was… memorable.
Groups of noble youths mingled, exchanged greetings, and toasted one another.
These were all high-ranking nobles—the future backbone of the kingdom, a miniature version of tomorrow's Royal Council.
Ron and the others stayed off to the side, not planning to join in.
"Nice to meet you, Baron Arnold. I've heard a lot about you from Michelle," Astrid said politely.
"Nice to meet you, Miss Astrid. Please excuse me for not greeting you earlier," Ron replied.
"You're too polite."
Since they weren't familiar, they only chatted briefly before Astrid smiled gracefully.
"Miss Marina and I will take a walk. I wish you an enjoyable evening."
Ron gained a favorable impression of Astrid—well-mannered, perceptive.
He patted Michelle's shoulder lightly, a bit envious.
Michelle, confused, quickly remembered his mission: introducing Ron to influential noble youths.
Ron listened absently—until his gaze landed on a corner of the ballroom.
A black-haired girl stood alone, quietly sipping wine.
Skin pale as snow, expression cold, wearing an elegant dark gown.
Her presence instantly reminded Ron of someone.
The Kingdom's Prime Minister—Marquis Norcis.
Michelle noticed his gaze.
"That is Miss Yuri Aisi, the second daughter of Marquis Norcis," he said.
As expected.
Did the Norcis household simply love black?
Just then, the music softened.
The hall grew quiet.
Everyone turned toward the staircase.
"Prince Belde has arrived… but why isn't Miss Theresa with him?"
Michelle whispered uncertainly.
Ron followed the crowd's gaze—toward two figures slowly descending the stairs.
The ball had truly begun.
_____________________
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