The sound of scribbling filled the spacious storage room of the academy’s grand hall.

The sound came from me alone, jotting down the missing notes needed for tomorrow’s reevaluation of our performance in preparing today’s ball.

Instead of the perfume-filled scent of the halls outside, I could only taste dust and metal in this dimly lit room. I was still wearing my beautiful, now uncomfortable to wear, yellow dress, as I continued my work.

The fabric that was soft moments ago now felt like an uncomfortable second skin. So much for a night of celebration.

A sigh escaped me before I could stop it. I’d barely had a chance to breathe, let alone enjoy the party I’d helped organize.

Not only did the board decide on the admitted students far too late, but they hadn’t even moved the ball’s deadline to accommodate it.

These last few weeks were a hurricane of logistics and a scheduling nightmare.

But still, I pushed through. As a newly appointed Student Council President, I couldn’t afford to screw up any events under my name.

But, even acknowledging my accomplishments, it still didn’t help with how irritated I was.

The moment I was pulled away from Feyt, things had been a rapid descent into this administrative chaos.

A student, whose name I couldn’t even begin to remember, complained because his friends didn’t make the guest list. Apparently, it was a problem that was seen as worthy of pulling me to mediate.

I had tried to explain that the invitees were to bring two guests only each, to accommodate the larger than usual student count for this year. But, like always, some just won’t listen to common sense.

I ran a hand over my face, leaning back into the cheap wooden chair, its legs creaking underneath me.

Through the open door, I could see the othe council members and staff working together to tidy up the now empty and echoing grand hall. After a moment of silence, I returned to my own work.

I tried to focus on the report before me, but as my hands glided across the paper, a voice carried itself into the storage room.

A small group of council members, thinking themselves out of earshot, were taking a break near the doorway.

“—I still can’t see Lord Leo losing,” one voice said, a female student. It sounded like this was a continuation of a previous conversation they had. “He was the obvious choice, right?”

“I know, right?” another concurred with a heavy sigh. “Aaagh I wanna work under Lord Leooo If only the Saint didn’t run for president too~!”

“Shhh, keep your voice down!” the first girl hissed, though she didn’t sound truly concerned. “But seriously, though. How did she win? You think she, you know, got some help?”

“Help?”

“I don’t know, maybe someone like Prince Julient? Haven’t you seen how close she was to him lately? He even popped into her office while I was cleaning, looking for her.”

“Ugh, the Third Prince has his eyes on her?” the other girl said. “No wonder she won, then.”

My hand had stilled, slight drops of ink dropping onto the paper below. The words from the hallway, though low and muttered, echoed clearly in this quiet room.

The Third Prince… So that’s their angle now.

A quiet, tired chuckle escaped me before I could stop it. It had been a while since my selection, but the whispers never truly ceased. They never dared to say it to my face, of course, but it still surprised me how their theories endlessly evolved, never settling on one.

I gave a single shake of my head, clearing my head of those thoughts, and forced my eyes back down onto the paperwork.

The night continued to waste away as I did the last few lines of the report.

But as I wrote down the last few paragraphs of the paperwork, a question came to me.

I wonder how Feyt’s doing.

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My mind replayed the moment I took the dance floor with him. A soft chuckle escaped me. His eyes had darted everywhere but at me, his hands trembling slightly in mine. It was clear that he knew the steps, but dancing with a real partner was something new to him.

I closed my eyes, leaning back in my chair as the memory played out. I was leading him through the steps, quietly humming the counts, gently guiding him whenever he wavered. I… wasn’t good with dancing myself, but with him, I felt like I wanted to do my best.

But as the memory continued to play… my smile faltered.

The partner switching.

I had expected for us to switch partners as per the dance routine, but… I hadn’t expected she would be his partner. The surprise had been so sharp, I’d gasped aloud.

Yet, that alone hadn’t been what stung. It was what came after.

Feyt, who had been nervous and jittery with me, was suddenly gliding across the floor with Carine with perfect elegance. His steps were filled with confidence, as if he knew neither he nor she would ruin the other’s step. His eyes were focused on his partner. He didn’t speak, he didn’t stumble. It was as if nothing else existed in his mind but the dance.

I couldn’t take my gaze off. They were so in sync, so perfectly balanced, it gave everyone an utterly mesmerizing sight.

It made me think, was he even there when he danced with me?

I tried to rationalize it away, of course. My mind scrambled for excuses.

Of course, he was focused. He was dancing with the Ducal Heir, the top scorer. Anyone would be nervous. It was only natural.

But the rationale, so carefully constructed, began to crumble as the memory of the sight replayed behind my eyes.

It wasn’t just focus I had seen on his face. It was… something else.

Something that even I could no longer ignore.

Driven by a need for closure, I had approached him after the dance, hoping to ask what he truly thought. Perhaps I was overthinking things, perhaps he really was just nervous.

…

I had found him looking dazed, still catching his breath near the edge of the dance floor.

A gentle tap on his shoulder made him jump.

When he turned, he was clearly still overwhelmed by something.

“A-Ah, Clara!” he said.

Trying to be lighthearted, I’d smiled. “Hi there. You danced pretty well for someone new.”

“A-Ah, yes. I did train a few times…” he explained.

But the image of his dance with Carine was burning behind my eyes. “That said, you seem to dance a lot more freely with… her,” I mumbled, almost to myself, unable to hold it back.

I quickly tried to cover it with a more general question. “So, how was the dance?”

His face went blank. “The dance?” he parroted, before offering a limp, “It was… alright?”

Just alright?

After what I had just witnessed between him and Carine? The word felt like a dismissal of the entire thing everyone just saw. My smile tightened despite my best efforts. “Just alright?”

I saw the panic flash in his eyes. He was backtracking, scrambling to correct himself. “A-Actually, it was the best,” he said, scratching the back of his head.

My eyes widened. “The best?” I couldn’t keep the surprise from my voice.

Dancing with Carine was the best…

“Is that… how you really feel?”

He must have seen the doubt on my face. He leaned in, giving me that cheerful, warm smile I was starting to adore. “Yeah, I’m sure! This is a night I’ll never forget!” he said with a bright, honest tone.

The honest words were basically a stab in the chest.

He wasn’t just being polite. The way he said it… it was genuine and sincere. That meant that every step and turn he had taken with her was etched into his memory forever.

Meanwhile, I…

“I… I see,” I murmured. “So it was that memorable for you…”

Was dancing with me not as memorable?

I had to know. I had to hear him say it.

“Feyt, tell me, was dancing with me not—”

“—President Clara?!” A frantic voice cut through the air, shattering the moment. And that was when I was pulled away by duty…

…

I returned to my reality. Alone in the storage room. The final report was signed, the ink was drying.

From the grand hall outside, I could hear the distant sounds of the other council members leaving, their cheerful goodbyes echoing as they headed for their dorms

But I decided to remain in the quiet, spacious room for a moment longer.

My body felt heavy. My energy sapped away.

I let my body slump forward, resting my forehead against the cool, grainy wood of the small desk.

I wondered. What was making me feel this way?

Was it just stress from the event?

Anger at the gossip?

Or the cold of the night?

But no matter how much I tried to convince myself that things were much simpler, the truth was already clear to me.

The ball had been a success. Through the tough deadline and sometimes incompetent council members, the ball had worked out great.

Yet, I had lost in a battle I hadn’t even realized I was in. And I lost spectacularly.

And of course, she was at the center of it.

Carine Sareid.

The sole heir of a dukedom.

The highest-ranked family member in the Royal Knights in years.

She was born to glide through a life of fame and wealth. Every move she made was met with awe and praise.

Meanwhile, people like me had to crawl for every scrap. Even after my hard work to reach where I stood, many still didn’t put their trust in me. They would rather gossip behind my back about my methods.

A highborn like her didn’t have to try. The moment she walked in, people would’ve praised her for just breathing.

…It would be stupid to just lie down and accept it.

I stood up from the creaking chair, silently packing up the items before me into my bag. After that, I slowly made my way out of the storage room, into the empty grand hall, and then out into the academy grounds.

As I made my way back to my dorm, my mind was racing about the upcoming semester.

How should I greet him when I see him again?

Where should I take him first for the tour?

How should I act around him?

Whatever the method, I was going to make sure he saw me. No, not just that, but also for him to remember me. I wouldn’t lose to a mere privilege or class.

I wore my usual smile as I watched the moon in the sky.

Next time, I’ll be memorable for sure.

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