An Early Engagement - Chapter 14- A Midsummer Night's Ball
Right on time, Damian arrived to pick up Shirley. Contrary to her worries, Damian treated her with his usual ease, as if the incident from that day had never happened.
“You look beautiful tonight, Shirley.”
“Thank you.”
Unlike Damian, who seemed no different from usual, Shirley found herself unintentionally watching his every move.
Damian quietly gazed out the window, while Shirley kept stealing glances at his profile.
“Um…”
At her soft call, Damian turned his head away from the window.
“What is it, Shirley?”
The moment their eyes met, Shirley knew Damian hadn’t forgotten what had happened that day.
*He’s still angry.*
Even though he appeared calm on the surface, even though he was acting as affectionately as ever, Shirley could tell. It was something she had naturally learned through years of shared experiences since childhood.
The problem was that Damian rarely, if ever, got truly angry with her.
*Damian, angry? And at me?*
The unfamiliarity of it made Shirley tense up without realizing it.
Damian had always been the one to yield to her. Even when Shirley was clearly in the wrong, he would take the blame himself.
“Just… the night air feels nice.”
So, she ended up talking about the weather.
“At least the nights are still cool,” Damian replied, matching her meaningless small talk.
“Y-yeah. I hate it when sweat builds up under the mask,” Shirley said, fidgeting with the mask resting on her lap.
“That’s a Psyche mask, isn’t it?”
Damian’s gaze fell to the mask on Shirley’s lap.
Psyche, the mortal woman loved by Eros, the god of love.
A figure from mythology who, unable to trust her husband Eros and swayed by her sisters’ deceit, sought to uncover his true identity, only to inflict irreversible wounds.
The mask adorned with shimmering butterflies symbolized that very Psyche.
Her outfit matched the theme—a flowing chiffon dress and her hair braided to one side, secured with a butterfly pin studded with jewels. From a distance, it looked as though real butterflies had alighted on her.
“We promised, remember? To dress as Eros and Psyche.”
“Yeah, we did.”
Damian held a mask decorated with white feathers, symbolizing Eros. A heart-shaped arrow was pinned to his chest.
“You look… really handsome today. Just like Eros.”
Shirley tried to lighten the mood with a compliment.
“Eros is just a reckless kid running around shooting arrows, wrapped in his mother Aphrodite’s skirts,” Damian replied with a cynical tone. His uncharacteristic voice left Shirley flustered.
“Not after he fell in love with Psyche. He became a… truly admirable man, didn’t he?” Shirley countered with a serious expression, and a strange look crossed Damian’s face.
“…Is that so?”
“Eros became a man because of Psyche,” Shirley added, and an abrupt silence fell inside the carriage.
“Did he now?”
“Y-yeah. Don’t you… remember?”
“No.”
Damian answered curtly. His disinterested tone made Shirley shrink back without realizing it.
“O-oh, I see.”
Feeling awkward for no reason, she tapped the heel of her shoe against the floor.
“How does he become a man?” Damian’s eyes behind the mask looked languid.
“I don’t remember well. You tell me.”
“……”
Shirley stared intently at Damian’s eyes visible through the mask.
Was it because of the mask?
Why did he feel so different from usual?
It was as if the person behind the mask wasn’t Damian at all, but someone else…
“Hm? Shirley.”
At his gentle prompting, Shirley snapped out of her thoughts.
“You were going to tell me how Eros grows into a man.”
“Ah, right.”
Shirley cleared her throat unnecessarily. Avoiding his steady gaze, she began to speak.
“Eros accidentally pricks himself with his own arrow and falls in love with Psyche, right? And then he grows from a boy into a man… Love becomes the catalyst for his growth.”
She stumbled a bit, but Shirley managed to finish her explanation quite well.
“…I see.”
Damian nodded. A soft smile played on his lips, visible beneath the half-mask.
Even with half his face covered, Damian’s beauty didn’t dim in the slightest.
It was a fact that any woman in high society would agree with. Shirley knew well that everyone was drawn to Damian’s face, his smile, his voice.
But that was all.
To her, it was a beauty she had grown too accustomed to, one she had seen so often that she had become immune to it.
*What if we had met after becoming adults?*
Shirley clutched her dress quietly. *If that had been the case… would my heart have raced when I saw him? Would I have fallen in love with him at first sight? Would I have been desperate to talk to him, to dance with him, like all the other women in society?*
That answer would forever remain unknown.
Because the man sitting in front of her was Damian de Elpart, the man she was soon to marry.
“Shall we get off?”
“……”
“Shirley?”
“Huh?”
Lost in her thoughts, she hadn’t even noticed the carriage had stopped. A servant waiting to greet them stood by the carriage door.
“Ah.”
Damian stepped out first and then extended his hand to Shirley. She took it, and Damian helped her out of the carriage as if it were second nature.
The entrance to the hall where the ball was being held was already packed with people.
Each person wore their chosen mask and costume, fully prepared to enjoy the night’s festivities.
