Ariel Dalton Wants to Graduate

Near Marquis Bolton was Blossom, wearing an ivory silk dress, who was arm-in-arm with Bryce Nadon. The inflated skirt supported by the pannier was adorable. Unlike Bolton, she and Nadon never looked at me. Bolton reacted to my voice, so those right next to him should have, but, well, it seemed they decided to ignore me altogether.

When I called him, Bolton narrowed his eyes as if trying to remember something. Then Blossom tapped the air at her eye level. It was the same movement I saw her do at the cafeteria on the day she transferred. I recalled the image of Illestia, who had become a completely different person, in my mind.

So did Bolton. He looked at Blossom with an incredibly stupid expression. No, he looked at Blossom as if she were the only person in the world. Fitzsimmons’ most cold-blooded person, also known as the Holy Knight of Illestia, lost his weapon.

“Hey, Marquis Bolton! The annoying man in glasses! Red underwear!”

I hurriedly tried to call him not only by his name, but also by a few nicknames he hated. But he didn’t even pretend to hear me.

Not only that. I don’t know if it was to completely ruin my mood, but he decorated Blossom’s head with a corsage that probably belonged to me! The preservation spell was not applied, so the fresh asters, delphiniums, and lilies, although not roses, annoyingly matched her curly blonde hair.

Soon, a procession of people who treat Ariel Dalton as a ghost passed by indiscriminately. left alone under the night sky, wearing the night sky-colored dress that my partner, who had left me, got tailored for me. I felt very sad. However, no giant tortoise sympathized with my sorrow this time.

I trudged to the banquet hall. My partner betraying me was not a reason for me not to attend the banquet.

The banquet hall was quiet. Everyone who was able to attend seemed to be inside already. Through the cracks in the door came the sounds of bustle, chatter, and laughter. Hearing that, I was a bit hesitant. I didn’t want Walsh to know that I was left alone in a matching dress with Bolton. also to Christa Edwards, if possible.

But dawn comes even if you twist the chicken’s neck*, so I had no choice but to prepare for the disgrace coming by imagining all possible accusations.

*(Something will inevitably happen. Though, the original meaning of this proverb was to mock stupid people who make errors with causations. Chicken cries—Dawn comes. Kill the chicken—Dawn will not come.)

I took a deep breath and pulled on the doorknob. But no matter how hard I try, it won’t open. Looking closely, I saw someone’s large hand holding the door. As I moved my gaze along it, the expressionless face of the dragon knight appeared.

“The Marquis?”

“He must have already entered… with Rosemary Blossom.”

A deep wrinkle formed between Spencer’s brows as I pointed my chin over the door full of romantic music and romance itself.

“Why?”

“If I knew that, would I be doing this?”

I tried not to, but because I was in such a bad mood, I got annoyed with someone who had nothing to do with it. Spencer rummaged through his pockets when I lost my temper. Soon, a bar of sweet chocolate came out of his hand like magic. Sweets can make people happy, even for a moment, so it could be said that Spencer’s choice was very right.

“Sorry.”

So, I felt like apologizing sincerely. Spencer silently shook his head. It seemed to mean that it was fine. He was wearing a red cape over a beige suit with shoulder decorations. On closer inspection, it was the uniform of the Royal Knights of Milua.

Generally, those with a partner do not wear knight’s uniforms, as they would dress to match their partner, as Bolton did. Come to think of it, his chest felt empty. Impulsively, I attached Bolton’s boutonniere that I had been holding all this time.

“It suits you much better,” 

I deliberately said, despite the fact that the red cloak and blue boutonniere did not go well together. ‘That’s expensive; take it.’ I wonder how many gold coins Bolton gave to the Finnigan street accessory craftsman to get these impeccably perfect white feathers.

Jaden Spencer carefully stroked Marquise Bolton’s boutonniere I had attached to him. He still had no expression on his face, so I couldn’t tell if he liked it or not.

After a while, he started looking around. When I asked what he was looking for, he didn’t reply and disappeared toward a flower bed by the side of the road. When he came back, he was accompanied by several wildflowers whose names I did not know. I cannot determine where the hell he got them, but a lot of leaves stuck to his short hair.

I laughed. Spencer, who has a large built, has leaves on his head and holds flowers thinner than a finger so dearly. It was so funny that I couldn’t help laughing.

“Why are you laughing?”

Spencer’s voice, when he said that, sounded unusually sullen. I made him crouch down so that my hand would reach him, and then I tore off clumps of the clinging material from his hair. I barely touched his chin, even on tiptoe, so he had to bend his back so much.

When everything was done, he brushed his hair shyly and weaved the wildflowers he had brought into a bracelet. The moving fingertips were surprisingly skillful.

Soon the wildflower corsage Spencer had made was on my wrist. It was not as beautiful as asters, delphiniums, and lilies, but it was dozens of times more touching. As I looked at it, a thought suddenly came to my mind, and I looked at Spencer to see if I could say it.

I couldn’t read anything in his sunken, mossy eyes. So I decided to just say it. Having a thick face was my strong point, so I didn’t worry for a long time.

“You know, Spencer. Do you think you could save poor Ariel Dalton right now?”

Then, without delay, he took my hand. It was a very strong force, unlike when he pinched my blouse in the student council room.

***

It was the weekend after safely ending the Beginning Month banquet that could have turned into a disaster. As Brianna left our room for an appointment with Walsh, she seemed to have noticed something outside the door and slowed down slightly. She then turned to me, who was lying on the bed and was counting the ceiling patterns, and said.

“Ariel, your ‘partner’ is here.”

With her sarcastic tone and emphasis on ‘partner’, I realized that she was talking about Bolton, not Spencer.

“Oh, my dear friend Brianna. If you don’t mind, will you tell that bastard to get lost?”

“You hear that? Go away.”

Bree’s voice as she gritted her teeth became distant. Soon after, she slammed the door shut. I looked at the shadow of the shoes pacing through the gap between the door and the floor for a bit, then turned my head away again. Falling asleep wrapped in a freshly laundered duvet is one of my favorite things to do on holidays, and I don’t want that to be disturbed by my ‘partner’.

I didn’t know how much time had passed since I fell into a deep sleep. Judging by how hungry I was, it seemed like an hour had passed. I was about to put on some clothes and go out when I saw a letter near the door. Bolton seemed to have pushed it through the crack in the door.

It was ridiculous, but I read it. Sure enough, it was a long letter of apology. He also said he didn’t know why he had done such a pathetic thing. He even said he wanted to slap himself. I could tell he was serious, because of how each word was written in fussy handwriting on the paper.

However, no law said I had to let him off the hook just because he was sincerely reflecting. I clicked my tongue and opened the door. Then Bolton, who was leaning on one side of the hallway, stood up straight.

“What, why are you still here?”

“Um, so, Dalton…”

He stammered uncharacteristically, and it was funny how he wanted to cling to me even though he was embarrassed. Come to think of it, no matter how much he was a Holy Knight of Illestia, he was still only 19. I technically outlived the other fifth-graders by five nine months, so I could say I was well over 20. If Mom or Maddie heard it, I would already be scolded for sounding like a dwarf who’s measuring its height, but that’s what it looked like to me.

Suddenly, I looked down at Bolton’s letter in my hand. It wouldn’t be a bad idea to watch him slap himself, but I thought of a better prank than that.

I folded Bolton’s letter of apology into the shape of an airplane and threw it down the stairs. Sentences containing his sorrow fell into the lobby of the dormitory building under the winding square spiral staircase. Bolton shouted, widening his eyes.

“Hey, what are you doing!”

I’m afraid that’s not on the list of decent words he prepared to ask for forgiveness. I couldn’t stop laughing when I saw Bolton’s long gray hair fluttering as he hopped down the stairs to pick it up (Bolton originally had his hair tied in a ponytail, but he seems to have dressed up roughly today, so by the time he reached the first floor stairwell, he had already lost his hair tie). I laughed until my stomach ached and until I burst into tears, so I could say that I paid him back about four times more.

The fifth plane did not take off because of Bolton’s sincerity in placing the letter he had picked up steadfastly in my hand despite going up and down the hundred stairs four times. It was also because there was a possibility that the ‘I don’t know why I did that’, which he desperately chanted, was real.

When he acted as if he had forgotten that I was his partner, his condition was anything but normal. And it was probably Blossom’s particular move that brought Bolton to that state. by tapping the air.

Wizards who reached a certain level said they could use magic without drawing lines. Rosemary Blossom wasn’t much of a wizard, as far as I know, but I wasn’t sure, considering that Blossom had made that move just before Illestia and Bolton’s attitudes changed. And what about Kyle, who is strangely obsessed with Blossom? He said he exists for her.

Perhaps Blossom knew a spell to move someone in the direction she wanted. I was curious about her identity again. Dragons, the strongest being in existence, could not control other intelligent lifeforms. Only God could do that.

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