RS 11

Chapter 11

Until then, Dolores hadn’t really had any intention of deliberately going against her father’s wishes.

Things like performing in public, for example.

In fact, her father still didn’t know that she was learning ballet.

What changed the situation was Miss Marguerite’s efforts.

Miss Marguerite persuaded her mother. She told her that Dolores had exceptional talent and asked that she be given just one opportunity.

Wouldn’t it be possible for someone to notice her? Wasn’t it about time they explained the girl’s talent to Count Artois as well?

At first, her mother firmly shook her head, but eventually she couldn’t withstand Miss Marguerite’s persistence.

On the condition that they still wouldn’t tell her father, her mother secretly signed Dolores’s application form without his knowledge.

And that was how Dolores came to stand on the stage that evening.

As the sky over Aquine changed from bluish gray to purple, people carrying lanterns began gathering in small groups at the square surrounding an old spring that was said to have once marked the beginning of the city’s prosperity.

Girls wearing sky-blue skirts reminiscent of the city’s sunset stood in rows alongside girls wearing orange ribbons, while young men carrying musical instruments gathered around the stage in the square.

There was no elaborate formality to the village festival.

Anyone who wanted to could participate, and there were no requirements.

If there was anything resembling an official organizer, it was simply the owner of the spice shop beside the spring square, who introduced the performers and announced the order of the event.

Even he had been chosen for the job simply because he had a loud voice.

Visitors who had come to enjoy themselves, townspeople who had opened their hearts to one another—some played the flute, while others played the accordion.

Songs without accompaniment and readings of poetry drifted through the air.

All those sounds came together in a lively festival that seemed to unite the entire little city.

And in the middle of that little festival—

Dolores’s turn was approaching.

Anais, sitting on an old chair and looking around, twisted the corners of her mouth slightly.

She looked perfectly satisfied simply to have received their mother’s permission to come and watch the performance with her.

“It’s amazing that you’re going to perform on a stage, Sister.”

“It’s not really that kind of stage.”

Dolores tried to brush it off as though it were nothing, but her voice trembled slightly.

This wasn’t an examination performed in front of aspiring ballerinas her own age at the elementary parish school.

Nor was it ballet performed while receiving scoldings from Miss Marguerite.

This was an unfamiliar process in which she had to convince complete strangers of her ability.

Miss Marguerite had told her that was precisely what Dolores needed.

Anais looked her stiff figure up and down once before giving a small snort of laughter.

“Go do your best. So I can brag about you to Mother.”

Dolores looked down at Anais’s completely relaxed expression and immediately pulled a miserable face.

“Ana, was it really a good idea for me to say I’d do this?”

“What’s wrong with you? It’s too late to change your mind now.”

“…I’m a little nervous.”

“They say everyone has a first time. Besides, how big can a village performance really be?”

Anais gave her a short reply and went back to watching the stage as though nothing had happened.

Thanks to Anais’s indifferent attitude, Dolores was actually unable to run away and instead managed to calm herself down.

Soon, Miss Marguerite beckoned to her from beside the stage.

“All right, Dolores. It’s your turn.”

It was really happening.

“The music is ready, so you can dance as freely as you like.”

Dolores squeezed her eyes shut and took a deep breath before walking past Miss Marguerite and stepping onto the stage.

Behind her, she heard Anais’s quiet voice.

“When you’re finished, I’ll tell you how amazing you were.”

Without realizing it, Dolores let out a small, breathy laugh.

Her tension disappeared.

For the first time in her life, she placed her foot on a stage.

As the orchestra began playing, accompanied by the cello’s low, resonant sound, her tension vanished as though it had never been there.

The strength drained from her shoulders, and her hands rose gracefully.

Her arms were like butterflies, her feet like bees.

As though music and herself were the only things that existed in this world…

As though they were everything.

During the performance, which lasted only about ten minutes—brief, yet seemingly endless—she realized something.

What mattered wasn’t the order of the choreography.

It was the music and herself.

Dolores spread both arms and finished with an Effacé, a pose in which the body is opened outward, using it as her final movement.

It wasn’t part of the choreography she had practiced dozens of times.

It was an improvisation.

Yet it had felt completely natural.

The music ended.

A few seconds of silence.

Her ragged breathing.

Dizzying gazes.

A world that was completely bright despite the fact that it was night.

“Amazing.”

Clap, clap, clap…

Applause that began somewhere spread through the crowd.

Amid the modest yet exhilarating applause, Dolores stood frozen like a tree.

It felt like an illusion in which the entire world was moving for her.

Anais jumped to her feet with her eyes wide and applauded enthusiastically.

She was happy.

So happy that she felt she could die and be satisfied.

But the person who transformed that excitement into an entirely different emotion was the boy standing not far from the stage.

His hand twitched slightly every time the applause erupted, as though it made him uncomfortable.

One hand began to rise toward his ear, only to lower again as he pretended to adjust his collar.

The boy’s brown hair, which Dolores had thought about countless times, was more disheveled than when she had first seen him.

A few strands had fallen over his forehead and swayed in the breeze.

The light from people’s lamps circled around his hair, making it shine like gold.

“Xavier.”

His name naturally lingered in her mind.

From the moment she had first seen him, she had never forgotten it.

“Xavier Bransen.”

Holding back the breath that had risen to her throat, Dolores met his green eyes, which were openly fixed on her.

The boy was strangely calm, as though he had known her for a long time.

Dolores didn’t know what had given her the courage.

Perhaps it was the lingering excitement after finishing the piece.

She ran toward the violinist who was putting away his instrument and asked if she could borrow his violin.

Honestly, she didn’t properly hear his answer.

She was already holding the unfamiliar violin by its neck in one hand and the bow in the other, running straight toward the boy.

“Hey! We… together…”

Breathing lightly and unevenly, Dolores held the violin out to the boy.

The boy stared at her for a moment before accepting the violin she offered.

Only afterward did she realize that it was a standard adult-sized violin and might not fit him.

But, surprisingly, the boy accepted it naturally and placed it against his neck.

He examined the violin carefully, almost as though observing it, and then drew the bow across the strings in one broad stroke.

The movement was smooth, like an old habit.

Xavier moved his head as though savoring the sharp cry of the strings, then smiled.

“Hello, Dolores.”

It was a wondrous moment when a new world touched the world that had already been opened before her.

“…You remember me?”

“You were with Miss Marguerite, the dancer. Taking this from that violinist must have been terribly rude.”

That moment was by no means an easy one.

Dolores returned the violin to its owner, which she had practically snatched away without permission.

Meanwhile, Anais had followed after catching the suspicious scent of something interesting.

“Sister, what was that just now? Who’s that boy?”

Dolores didn’t explain everything.

It was embarrassing and humiliating to explain, yet at the same time, she was excited.

An emotion she couldn’t put into words had completely taken hold of her.

She heard Miss Marguerite laugh.

When their eyes met, Miss Marguerite smiled with the same expression she had once worn before—as though she knew everything.

Dolores didn’t know where to look, so she was almost forced to raise her eyes toward the sky.

It was a beautiful night filled with countless stars.

The excitement of the night must have played a large part in helping her make her decision.

Yes. I should be brave.

Dolores asked Miss Marguerite to look after Anais and immediately headed toward Xavier.

Instead of stopping her, Miss Marguerite simply smiled.

Anais asked with a bewildered expression,

“Teacher, what’s wrong with my sister?”

“I suppose she’s found a reason she can’t sit still.”

Dolores deliberately dropped herself down beside the boy with a loud thump.

The boy with brown hair and a perfectly neat coat was wearing a tie as well, something that seemed more suited to an adult.

Up close, he was so neat and composed that it was hard to believe he was her age.

He seemed strangely mature.

He even looked more refined than she did, despite her being the daughter of a count.

For a moment, she wondered if sitting beside him had been a mistake.