“...Ahem, hello.”
She cleared her throat without meaning to, her tone low and timid.
A tense voice.
I looked at Carla for a moment.
Seeing her in person, her beauty truly drew a gasp.
Her long dark-brown hair fell in waves along her shoulders, and her gray eyes were mysterious and intelligent.
A face so slim it seemed fragile, a deeply hollowed collarbone, and the delicate body that descended beneath it.
'Different from Elodie for sure—a mature, sensual face. Eyes and lips that seem likely to bewitch the opposite sex regardless of her own will.'
All her beauty emphasized femininity and softness, yet her eyes and lips alone were filled with confidence.
A natural-born femme fatale. Countless men must have felt their hearts race at her glances and gestures.
'...Only, right now, it feels a bit different.'
The proud, confident eyes were a description that applied until a moment ago; when she reached me, Carla looked for all the world like a frightened fledgling.
Is that an act too? A tactic to trigger a man’s instinct to protect?
'Whatever. It doesn’t matter.'
“Yes, hello.”
I returned the greeting with a light smile.
There’s one big thing I’ve learned since meeting Selena.
Don’t try to see through the other person’s acting.
I can’t do that anyway.
“......”
“...?”
But Carla simply greeted me and then stood there blankly.
It felt awkward to keep staring, so I spoke first.
“I’m Frondier de Roach.”
“...Ah! I-I’m Carla. Sorry.”
Carla blushed and bowed her head.
Very different from the image I’d heard.
After the greeting, Carla cautiously lifted her face and spoke.
“I-I don’t think I’ve seen you at a banquet before. Is this your first time at this party?”
“Yes. Not just here—this is my first banquet at all.”
Of course, I meant on the continent of Agoris.
“Ah, really? If you’re a noble, I’d think you attended often since you were young...”
As she said that, Carla quickly scanned my face, hair, and the formalwear I had on—checking what rank of noble I might be from my appearance.
But Elodie and Lirih had attended to my face and hair, and the formalwear was a special make of House Roach. There was no loss of dignity or sense of being second-rate.
“I’ve been busy.”
At my answer, Carla tilted her head with an awkward smile. I didn’t look old, so she must have meant: Busy with what at your age?
“Pardon me, but how old are you?”
“Twenty.”
“...What work kept you from attending banquets?”
I had plenty of reasons not to attend banquets. Even in Terst, I wasn’t the type to enjoy them.
I did all sorts of things to prevent a game over—but those aren’t stories I can bring up here.
“It’s a secret.”
So I answered in a vaguely evasive way.
For some reason, Carla’s eyes sparkled even more at that answer.
Honestly, I had no idea what rhythm this conversation was in.
I changed the subject.
“And now I’m working as a teacher.”
“A teacher? At your age?”
“Ha-ha. As expected, you don’t know me, Principal.”
When I called her “Principal” instead of by name, Carla’s eyes widened a little.
“...Oh my, don’t tell me.”
“I’m on staff at Atlas.”
Carla lightly covered her mouth with her hand. Even with gloves, her hand looked slender.
'Carla looks far too delicate on the outside. That delicacy empowers her beauty, but it’s a body that’s clearly never fought.'
I’d heard she proposed deals to unmarried men.
Surely the goal was to seduce men with that beauty, so she wouldn’t bring anyone along.
But if so, that would mean meeting men alone to conduct deals.
If the seduction didn’t go as planned—or even if it did, if the deal didn’t satisfy her—
Or if the seduction went too well, and deal or not, the man tried to force himself on her—would she have any countermeasure?
'At the very least, the mana I sense right now isn’t threatening. It’s possible Carla’s hiding it, though.'
If her body couldn’t do it, she’d rely on magic, but I didn’t get a feeling from Carla akin to Elodie or Lunia.
'Does she really conduct deals with no countermeasures at all? Trusting that men will move ✧ NоvеIight ✧ (Original source) completely as she wants?'
No. That can’t be. There must be something.
Something neither strength nor magic.
Honestly, right now I was more interested in that than in what she was actually trading.
“Sorry. I’ve been busy lately and haven’t been able to get to Atlas.”
“I know. I’ve heard you’ve been investing your efforts in your social circle, Ms. Carla.”
“...Did you know I’d be here? Did you come to see me?”
A suspicious look. I let out a brief laugh.
“As if. Pure coincidence.”
“Really?”
“If I had, I would’ve approached you first.”
In fact, that had been my original plan. Though when that would have been—who knows.
But now that things had turned out like this, I couldn’t not make use of the situation.
“...R-right.”
Being called out for having approached me, Carla flushed again.
To be honest, handling this was a bit tricky. By my original thinking, once I approached Carla, I expected it to become a contest of whether I could withstand whatever means of seduction she had.
Yet since earlier, Carla had been dithering—her gaze wavering, neither leaving nor coming closer, just staying there.
Is it that if she holds that stance, men will approach her on their own, and she’ll, without seeming to, toy with them in the palm of her hand? Is this simply a level too far beyond me to understand?
'But whatever.'
My thinking hadn’t changed from before.
Let’s not try to understand a realm I can’t understand.
“Well then.”
I set down my glass and spoke.
“It was a pleasure to meet you, Ms. Carla.”
“Ah—what?”
“I hope we can meet again.”
I rose from my seat.
I’d confirmed Carla would attend this banquet, and we’d learned each other’s faces and exchanged names.
That was sufficient as today’s result.
My plan hadn’t moved from the start.
Just build familiarity. That’s naturally part of a teacher’s duties, request or no request.
“I wish you a happy evening.”
With a polite bow, I left my seat.
Frondier’s body, it seems, holds liquor well.
I felt a light buzz and left without issue.
***
Carla went home a bit dazed that day.
She stepped into her empty house, hung her coat on the rack, and paused.
“...Wow.”
The star of today’s banquet was a famous noble known to have achieved great success after founding a company and to be hosting in celebration.
Of course, the stated reason for any banquet is a pretext; the purpose is always the same: exchanges among nobles, displays of influence, forming factions for checks and balances, and so on.
But today, none of that mattered.
“This is bad. What do I do.”
She stood before the mirror and checked her tense face. She leaned closer, pressed down on her cheekbones, and tugged below the corners of her mouth. The awkward expression wouldn’t fade.
“Frondier—he said Frondier.”
She recalled the man she’d met at the banquet.
At first sight, he looked like a jet-black shadow standing alone in a bright space. His clothes, his hair, his eyes—and his atmosphere—were like that.
There was a different man she was supposed to approach today. No—more precisely, a different man she was supposed to make approach her.
But the moment she saw Frondier, she changed her mind. At first, it was because his refined looks and dress made him seem like he belonged to a very distinguished house.
A scion of a great house whose face she didn’t yet know. Something she had to confirm.
But the more resolved she became and the closer she drew to Frondier, the less things went as she meant them to. She felt something indefinable from him.
A stranger she’d never seen before. After seeing him for only three seconds, a change was born in her heart.
'...Could this be—'
Carla had never felt such an emotion. Her seduction of men was a thoroughly calculated act, and to begin with, it had never been difficult.
But with Frondier, she couldn’t do a thing. Her usual methods of seduction—her gestures and glances—she did none of it and simply let him go.
'When we met, and again when he left—no hesitation. Meeting me wasn’t his purpose.'
Moreover, Frondier said little about himself. Every man she’d met up till now had tried to add even one more line to the conversation; Frondier kept letting the flow end and drift away.
Why? Why avoid me? Why not even spare a glance until I came near, and then leave so quickly?
'...No, Carla.'
Her curiosity about Frondier grew. No—it deepened. Carla looked at her face reflected in the mirror. She looked into her eyes.
She hadn’t been able to draw near to Frondier. She hadn’t been able to act seductively.
If she did, without a doubt—
'Don’t let it become real.'
Carla’s eyes changed. The gray darkened to black, and a vertical line bloomed within the pupils. The power she’d struggled to keep hidden began to seep out.
Crack—crrrack.
The mirror she was looking at began to harden slowly from the outside. When the gray vanished from Carla’s eyes, the mirror’s body seemed to take it on in her stead, spreading into gray.
Even the glass that reflected Carla lost its sheen, and the mirror could no longer serve any function.
Petrification.
Only after she turned a treasured mirror into something useless did Carla finally return to her original eyes.
Carla could control her power to a degree, but when her impulses or emotional turmoil grew severe, it would spill out without her knowing.
At such times, she had to vent the ability into some object. Simply turning ordinary furniture to stone wasn’t enough to sate the impulse. Even as stone, those items could still perform their basic functions.
She had to render them unable to perform their function to quench the impulse. Large enough to satisfy her urge, yet suitable—a mirror was the most fitting and least costly.
At first, she couldn’t control it at all. Even now, she was only barely managing.
A dangerous power she couldn’t control herself. That is not called an ability.
It is called a curse.
'You’ll end up killing him, Carla.'
Carla bit her lip.
It was the first time she’d wanted someone. And thus the first time she realized that such a feeling could turn into an impulse.
'Atena... Atena...!!'
Carla clearly recognized the price her curse demanded, and her fingertips trembled with humiliation.
