Our Summer Is Not Over - vanish into fiction

Forcing herself to steady her emotions, Mia approached Clarisse and gently wiped her eyes with a handkerchief.

“It’s alright, so don’t cry.”

“I’m sorry for ruining your beautiful dress.”

Though startled for a moment, Clarisse admitted her mistake and apologized. Her voice trembled with tears, but she finished her apology bravely, without faltering.

“I just thought it would be nice to give a proper greeting to such an elegant lady, so I acted without thinking. I didn’t expect something like this to happen. I’ll be more careful in the future.”

Standing beside her, Armand also apologized to Mia.

“That’s right, be more careful next time. But it’s a mistake anyone could make, so don’t blame yourselves too much.”

Just as Mia handed the handkerchief to Clarisse and was about to stand up, Clarisse pressed something into Mia’s hand.

It was a well-worn brooch. Realizing what it was, Countess Ashborn carefully spoke to Mia.

“It seems my daughter wanted to give you something precious as an apology. If it upsets you, I’m sorry.”

Watching Clarisse fidget with her fingers, Mia smiled gently and replied,

“No, I like it. I’ll treasure it.”

Hearing her answer, the child’s cheeks flushed again. Her bright, grateful smile was so lovely that it was hard to believe she had been crying only moments ago.

Mia watched Clarisse for just a moment longer, then, guided by Marchioness Perville, made her way to a small garden where she could avoid the crowd’s gaze.

* * *

Dylan stood to one side of the ballroom, his gaze instinctively searching for Mia.

His eyes did not waver from her.

Even under the artificial lights instead of sunlight, Mia stood out. The dress he had chosen for her shimmered in the light, and the jewelry he had picked for her held its place elegantly.

Seeing the woman he had dressed mingling with the other ladies and smiling among them brought him a strange feeling.

He knew that smile was a mask. He could tell from the way her smile was drawn and how her eyes folded that there wasn’t a single grain of sincerity in it.

But it was the same smile she showed him. Realizing there was no real difference between himself and the rest of the nobility made Dylan let out a hollow laugh.

“Dylan Rihardt.”

Someone called out to him.

In all this grand ballroom, or even in all of Hipoli, there were only a handful of people who could call him like that. The king or Duke March. Since the king would never come here, it was surely the latter.

His guess was exactly right.

Meeting Walter’s vivid red gaze, Dylan replied indifferently,

“What brings you here? You never come to parties.”

“I wanted to know the meaning of the letter you sent me, but you wouldn’t meet me.”

The odd conversation between the two caused the nearby nobles to quietly step away.

“Ah—”

Seeing Walter’s grim expression, Dylan finally nodded, remembering the letter he had sent not long ago.

The letter in which he said he had no intention of fulfilling his contract with Mia Blair.

Dylan glanced around once more, then fixed his eyes on Mia standing far away. Then he muttered in a low voice, just loud enough for Walter to hear,

“This isn’t the place for that conversation. I’ll come meet you another time, Your Grace.”

Frowning, Walter added a small threat that if Dylan broke his promise, he would go to Mia instead, then left the ballroom.

As Walter disappeared, a wave of fatigue swept over Dylan. Checking the time, Dylan decided that now that he’d spent enough time apart, he could rejoin Mia.

If only someone hadn’t stepped in his way.

“It’s been a while, hasn’t it?”

There was a strangely sharp edge to the voice.

“Elio.”

“This isn’t the sea, so why do you call me that?”

“Ah, then Baron Bormann. Is that what you’d prefer?”

Dylan looked at Elio standing before him. They were about the same height and build.

“I was planning to retire after the war, but if I left, there’d be no one to restrain your orders, so I can’t retire,” Elio said.

“Is that so.”

“As long as you haven’t retired, I suppose I can’t either. Someone has to be here to keep things from going wrong again, don’t you think?”

Elio’s slightly provoking words made Dylan’s eyes narrow. He did not look away from Elio’s steady gaze.

The dark brown hair and firm, deep brown eyes were the same as when Dylan had first met him over ten years ago. The only difference was that Rodrigo, who had always been by Elio’s side, was now gone.

It wasn’t difficult to see the resentment in Elio’s eyes. Dylan knew exactly why he felt that way.