Ariel Dalton Wants to Graduate

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As Illestia said, I soon found out what he was planning. On my way to the cafeteria for dinner, Marquis Bolton, who usually looked at me like a cow watching a chicken*, suddenly approached me.

*(Cow watching a chicken: To look at someone indifferently. Cows don’t pay attention to chickens because they aren’t a threat nor prey to them.)

“The dress will be in your room in three days.”

“What?”

“My clothes are the same color as your dress, so have a blue boutonniere ready. Lavender, um… White owl feather decorations would not be bad either. I’m sure a merchant family can afford that much.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Didn’t you hear anything from Prince Keran?”

Keran? Keran Illestia? At the mention of the name, I slowly remembered that Marquis Bolton was Keran Illestia’s aide.

“My God, are you my partner? What did Illestia say?”

“It took you four and a half minutes to figure out that obvious fact, Dalton.”

The annoying* man in glasses said unattractively as he raised his glasses hatefully. The corners of his mouth were still slanted. My side, which was stabbed by his wooden sword half a month ago, ached. 

*(Annoying: I previously translated 재수 없는 to luckless because that’s the literal translation but after researching I found annoying more accurate. It’s someone who does not have attractive or appealing qualities.)

Marquis Bolton, contrary to his seemingly rigid impression, was completely serious about social events such as banquets, perhaps because he was raised by a mother who once ruled the social world of the Holy Illestia Empire.

His manners were impeccable, and his dancing skills were decent. His sense of choosing clothes and accessories was particularly good, and everything Bolton wore was in vogue among Fitzsimmons male students.

Even Adam Walsh had cravats and cufflinks similar to those he wore. But just like drawing lines on a pumpkin does not make it a watermelon, Walsh’s wearing it didn’t make him look like Bolton at all.

Certainly, in that respect, Illestia’s judgment was not bad. Having become my partner, Bolton would do his best to make the banquet we attend perfect. From the way he spoke, it seemed that he had already ordered a dress for me to wear.

However, there was a very fatal problem between us; Bolton had a mysterious knack for making people angry. Having lived all my life not avoiding the fights that come my way, I inevitably will have a bad ending with people of his kind.

Should I continue the relationship that was promised to end in ruin in order not to lose face at the banquet? 

After thinking about it for a while, I decided to be content with having a partner who does not have wings and does not eat horse jerky.

“Okay, see you on the day of the banquet.”

So I said, “I’m saying this because you talked about boutonniere, but I want my corsage to use fresh flowers that are not under the preservation spell. The scent is much stronger.”

Bolton seemed to be less satisfied than I was. Well, looking back on the past five fifth grade, he used to attend banquets alone because no one met his standards until he fell in love with Blossom.

“I remember you were not very good at dancing.”

“You remember it wrong.”

It was not just that I could not dance well, I was a wooden doll. If there was a situation where I took steps, the reason would be to stab someone’s vital point, not to surrender myself to music.

When the facts got straight out, Bolton was as devastated as Lilu, my cat whose toy she was playing with rolled through a crack in the furniture. I had a hunch that Ariel Dalton would be an unparallelled figure in Marquis Bolton’s social history.

“Dalton, do you have any after-school activities?”

“I… don’t?”

Bolton asked seriously. After I responded reflexively, I realized I had made a mistake.

“Come to the student council room after class starting from Monday.”

Bolton’s face suddenly became determined, as if he were on a mission, so I tried to tell him that I was a very good dancer and that the wooden doll comparison was just something I made up. Of course, it did not work.

He finally let me go after making me promise over and over again. I spent the whole evening thinking about how to break my leg without hurting myself.

***

It was Monday, and my legs were still fine because all methods for breaking a leg involved pain. I waddled to the student council as if I were a cow being led to a slaughterhouse.

Bolton was waiting for me with a phonograph and turned it on as soon as he saw my face. Without putting my bag down, I took a few of the basic steps I knew. Then he asked me how I could get all the beats wrong. I was very embarrassed.

It was not my fault that I couldn’t keep up with the beat. My partner at almost every banquet I attended before the academy was Kyle. He didn’t care what beat I was dancing to because he said it was fine as long as the dancer enjoyed it.

I attended the post-academy banquets with Adam Walsh, but we rarely danced in front of a crowd because Walsh had the same terrible dancing skills as mine.

After this defense, Bolton took off his glasses and pressed the bridge of his nose. Professor Humphreys’ pale face came to mind.

“First… come here.”

He took the bag off my shoulder, left it somewhere, and tapped the floor with the tip of his shoe. Standing at the indicated location, he pulled back his right foot, bowed with his graceful gesture without extravagance, and then stretched his left arm out to my eye level. I grabbed it, and his other hand came up just below my shoulder blade. I was a little nervous.

While moving as Bolton led, I noticed Spencer poking his nose into a textbook in a corner of the student council room. He seemed to be working on an assignment, judging by the pen and blank paper on the table. The tables and chairs looked pitifully small for his distracting size.

‘You know, Bolton. I think you should have a table specifically for Spencer here.’ I tiptoed and whispered in Bolton’s ear. ‘Don’t you have a budget for that?’ 

Bolton replied irritably, moving his head away from me. ‘If I had the budget, I would have hired a dance teacher first. Stop talking and focus.’

So, I paid a little more attention than I do in magic science class. Then I realized that although Bolton may have a great talent for dancing, he has no talent for teaching.

Also, his patience was as short as a candle wick. He easily gets angry when my foot gets twisted, even a little bit, but I also get angry easily with people who get angry easily, so our conversation gradually became personal attacks rather than communication.

I told him that he was a jinxed and petty guy who was upset about losing to Bryce Nadon in the romantic contest over Blossom. Then Bolton, who had turned redder than his undergarments, as described by the Fitzsimmons Times, lashed out, saying that the Kraken would dance better than me.

I retorted that the Kraken had ten legs, so it should be five times better than me. He seemed at a loss for words when I applied my shrewd logic. It was my victory.

“Jaden, can you come here for a minute?”

Bolton huffed out and called for a chief justice. Suddenly, Spencer, who was placed in the middle of the battlefield, looked around gloomily, but unfortunately, the only ‘Jaden’ in the student council room was Jaden Spencer.

“You lead Dalton.”

I was the worst student, and I was aware of that, but Bolton could not admit he wasn’t the best teacher. As he tugged at Spencer, who staggered out, Spencer stood in front of me precariously. He was so big that his shoulders instantly filled my field of vision.

Although his expression was exactly the same as usual, somehow, I felt that Spencer was flustered. He pinched the fabric of my blouse with his thumb and forefinger. His left hand was barely touching my right hand. Bolton snorted and corrected his posture. His hand that reluctantly wrapped around my back was very large and warm.

As the music played, Spencer moved very carefully. He was clearly in the position of leading me, but it seemed like he was trying to fit perfectly into my messy tempo rather than shoving me into a perfect tempo like Bolton.

Then, finally, we heard the end of a short waltz without our legs getting entangled. As I put on a triumphant expression, Bolton pretended to clean his glasses and avoided my eyes.

***

When I wrote in the letter that I had partnered with the heir of the second-strongest family in Illestia, my mother almost fainted. From her trembling handwriting, I managed to extract information about a famous accessory craftsman on Finnigan Street. Bolton was particularly fastidious about clothing, so my boutonniere had to be tailored to his taste. My efforts were not particularly for Bolton. I was just worried about how much he would find fault with me if I pushed for an unsatisfactory boutonniere. After Chief Justice Spencer acquitted me and convicted him, Marquis Bolton has been somewhat subdued in dancing, but he became twice as strict about everything else.

I lay down on the bed, shaking my legs, and was writing a reply to my mother, thanking her for the information about the accessory craftsman and the portrait of Lilu (the scene of the courageous Lilu catching a mouse got vividly recorded), when suddenly someone knocked on my door. Soon, two dwarves came in carrying a box the size of their bodies and a stool for them to stand on. They said they had come to fit the dress Bolton had ordered.

They skillfully opened the carefully sealed box and pulled out a pale yellow dress that was slightly longer than the knee. I didn’t have great fashion sense, but I was stunned because I knew that pale yellow didn’t match my skin tone at all.

Moreover, Bolton obviously matched his clothes to my dress, which is why he told me to prepare a blue boutonniere. Blue boutonniere in a light yellow dress. Something must have gone wrong.

“Is that my dress?” I asked urgently.

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