Chapter 6

It was a long while before the music finally came to an end.

A heavy silence spread through the space, settling into an eerie stillness.

Anyone from Agriche couldn’t possibly be unaware of what Sylvia’s dance had meant and just how astonishing it was.

Even those with no knowledge of dance could recognize its brilliance.

The members of Frozen Agriche clamped their mouths shut, their gazes shifting as they looked at Sylvia with newfound eyes.

Shock was evident on their faces as they exchanged glances.

Even the leader, who had initially gone pale with disbelief, now gazed at Sylvia with a dazed smile lingering on her lips.

And that wasn’t all.

Before they knew it, all eyes had turned toward Kallain.

Even the ever-bored Grand Duke’s expression had changed—if only slightly.

The realization sent ripples through the minds of the Frozen Agriche members.

Until now, Céline had maintained her position of influence thanks to her unparalleled skill and the favor she received from the Manifested One.

‘But what if the Grand Duke’s favor shifts toward Sylvia instead?’

Céline had as many enemies as she did followers.

Everyone began thinking about what this meant for them.

Those who had supported Céline swallowed their words, while Ritornan watched the unfolding situation with intrigue.

At the center of it all, Céline bit her lips until they bled, and when her eyes met Sylvia’s, her entire body trembled.

Her face flushed red with humiliation, and she sharply turned her head away.

Now, everything rested in the hands of Grand Duke Kallain.

Naturally, all eyes fixed on him.

At the center of it all, Sylvia stood tense, watching him intently.

Kallain slowly approached her, his gaze unwavering as he extended his hand.

“Stand up now.”

* * *

The man gently helped me to my feet before turning away and walking off.

I stood there blankly, watching his retreating figure until the door opened and he disappeared from sight.

It wasn’t until murmurs began to spread around me that I came back to my senses.

‘Is he really just leaving like this?’

Turning my head, I saw the stunned expression on the leader’s face, followed by the bewilderment of the members, and then, behind them all, Céline’s sneering face.

Only now did reality finally sink in.

I hadn’t been chosen.

It was an unthinkable outcome.

I hadn’t been blindly confident about the results.

I was certain—because when I purified him, I had felt something utterly unfamiliar for the first time.

Each time our eyes met, a tingling energy seeped into me.

Like feathers brushing against my skin, a hazy sensation coiled around me, intensifying with every movement.

The careful steps I had practiced thousands of times nearly faltered, threatening to collapse beneath me.

A strange, tantalizing heat bloomed deep inside, numbing my reason and stirring my senses into chaos.

Everywhere his gaze touched felt like it was on fire.

That sensation built and built, finally pooling deep within me, soaking me in an overwhelming euphoria.

And I knew—I wasn’t the only one who felt it.

His piercing blue eyes, deep as a lake, held me in their grasp, as if he, too, was drowning.

At that moment, I was certain.

This ecstasy wasn’t mine alone.

There was no way he wouldn’t take me into Detroit.

And yet—

Why?

My thoughts spiraled into confusion.

‘I heard the Grand Duke still hasn’t found a proper Purifier…’

But if he had walked past me so indifferently, was that just a rumor?

A suffocating darkness settled over my vision.

Fragments of information about him surfaced in my mind, swirling into disarray.

There were already other Agriche Purifiers stationed inside the Detroit estate as reserves.

‘Does that mean someone like me is nothing special there?’

Of course. Agriche had three other branches aside from Frozen Agriche.

‘Maybe he’s already found someone who suits him better.’

A bitter taste spread across my tongue. The noise around me faded to a dull hum.

Then, as if they had been waiting for this moment, several people shoved against my shoulders.

Céline’s dogs, who had kept their mouths shut just moments ago.

At the center of them, Céline met my gaze and curved her crimson lips into a smirk.

A blatant mockery.

A sharp, grating sound, like a dreadful stringed instrument, rang in my ears.

That’s right.

I had stepped into this place knowing it could cost me my life.

Even the Grand Duke had warned me to be prepared if I failed to please him.

And yet, I had been too sure of myself.

The cold reactions around me were not a mistake. They were my reality.

The fear of death and the crushing weight of disappointment twisted together inside me, burning away like smoke.

* * *

“Why did you not take that girl in?”

Count Jayden, who had long witnessed Kallain’s suffering firsthand, was unusually agitated this time.

The Grand Duke had endured relentless pain due to the absence of a proper Purifier—it was no trivial matter.

When he saw the flight of red butterflies, he had nearly let out a cheer.

Finally, he thought, they had found his lord’s Purifier.

“A child with such ability has never appeared in all of Agriche, has she?”

“You saw it that way as well?”

“It wasn’t just me. Ask any passerby, and they would say the same.”

The measure of enchantment is determined through the most primal of vessels—dance.

And the vessel that woman possessed was vast, beyond anything seen before.

Of course, it wasn’t just about the vessel itself.

The amount of Purification energy she could contain within it was also extraordinary.

More precisely, the allure layered over her Purification expanded its total magnitude.

Each time her gaze lowered, it stirred the depths of the soul, cleansing everything in its wake.

A woman who could manifest such power—not through direct contact, but through something as simple as dance—was unheard of.

Yes. With such an overwhelming presence, there was no way anyone could fail to notice.

The Agriche members, trained to sense Purification abilities in others, would have known immediately.

And Count Jayden, ever perceptive, had no doubt.

Even now, the memory of her movements filled every crevice of his mind, leaving no gaps.

The stolen glances, fleeting yet searing.

The way his body burned as if scorched in response.

His breath growing shallow, his heart pounding like a caged beast.

As if reading his thoughts, Count Jayden asked with deliberate ease,

“Did Your Grace not feel it as well?”

The smile tugging at the Count’s lips was irksome.

The woman had moved with nothing more than delicate legs and slender arms, yet she had twisted his emotions and played with them at will.

Yes.

Just as Jayden had said, he had felt it.

That was the problem.

* * *

The hierarchy within Frozen Agriche was instantly restored.

Or rather, it was more accurate to say that nothing had changed at all.

After all, Céline had never lost her position in the first place.

She strode forward, her crimson dancer’s attire fluttering around her, more confident and composed than ever.

But beneath her poised exterior, a storm of emotions roiled, cloaking her in a suffocating gray haze.

‘That pathetic wench.’

‘Did she really think she could seduce His Grace, the Grand Duke?’

The moment that mere newcomer dared to step forward, Céline had felt her blood boil.

In truth, she had disliked Sylvia from the moment she first entered Frozen Agriche.

There was something unsettling about the refined elegance that clung to her like a second skin.

Such an innate aura of nobility couldn’t be easily manufactured.

And it wasn’t just Céline who thought so.

When Sylvia first joined, the members had whispered about her incessantly.

“She has such an unusual presence.”

“Yeah… Honestly, she’s graceful. Even the way she walks.”

“Her frame is so delicate, and her eyes look just like a cat’s.”

“I only saw her from a distance, but she absolutely radiates aristocratic charm.”

Céline was not accustomed to seeing someone else at the center of attention.

The Frozen Agriche members had always been her loyal followers.

But it was fine.

In the end, she could always turn things back in her favor.

“Where is she from, anyway?”

With just one baited question from Céline, the topic instantly shifted to Sylvia’s origins.

“She was alone when she joined. Maybe she’s just a street rat?”

“Could be.”

“But she speaks so much like a noble…”

“What if she’s a hidden child of some aristocratic family?”

Sensing that the conversation was veering in an unwanted direction, Céline threw out another morsel of gossip.

“My cousin said he saw Sylvia dancing on the streets.”

“Well, if she were really from a noble house, we would’ve heard about her already, right?”

From there, countless debates erupted, but in the end, the members moved exactly as Céline had intended.

Watching the scene unfold, she couldn’t hide her satisfaction.

‘A worthless girl acting all high and mighty…’

The sheer absurdity of it made Céline laugh, and so she made sure Sylvia was treated as befitted a mere newcomer.

Unlike noble ladies, members of Frozen Agriche were required to handle their own stage costumes according to strict regulations.

Under Céline’s influence, her followers readily dumped all the tedious chores onto Sylvia.

Even those who had initially hesitated, feeling guilty, eventually followed suit after observing the others.

Everything went according to Céline’s design.

A lowly girl like that belonged in the background, scrubbing floors, not standing on stage.

Honestly, even their very origins were worlds apart.

In this entire Agriche, she alone was the only one of noble blood.

A true noble.

The bloodline of House Romantier.

Sure, she was a mere illegitimate child, but Céline took immense pride in her heritage.

There should be no one—absolutely no one—who could surpass her.

And yet.

‘That newcomer actually dared to dance to my song in front of His Grace.’

There was no other way to describe her—she was out of her mind.

‘I’ve worked so hard, honing my craft just to stand before the Grand Duke, and that wretched girl stole my stage in an instant.’

The moment His Grace’s eyes fell upon Sylvia, rage surged through Céline, threatening to consume her.

Even when she had gone through painstaking effort to catch the butler’s attention and finally stood before the Grand Duke, he had barely spared her a glance.

But that was fine.

He was like that with everyone.

In fact, his indifference only made him even more alluring to her.

And yet, Sylvia—that lowborn wench—had captured his attention in an instant.

That thing.

The only consolation was that he hadn’t chosen her.

But even so, the unease refused to leave her.

The way he looked at Sylvia was different.

Céline refused to allow such a filthy stain to tarnish her future—the future where she alone would bask in the Grand Duke’s favor and rise above all others.

So she took action.

She stood before the leader of Frozen Agriche, Kostia.

Unlike when she was surrounded by her followers, the leader greeted her with a warm smile.

Céline returned the expression, then spoke.

“I witnessed Sylvia stealing Snowstone, the treasured gem of Frozen Agriche.”

“…”

“She must be punished accordingly, don’t you think?”

“…”