After deciding on a piece for practice and finishing their meeting, Letticia returned to the Sharon Count’s estate. She was now in the music room with Seraphina, playing the piano together.
Since using the Wallace Count’s music room would have been inconvenient—despite Seraphina being the host’s niece—it was more appropriate to practice at the Sharon Count’s estate. They agreed on this arrangement.
Before choosing a duet piece, Seraphina had requested to hear Letticia play solo. So, Letticia began playing a piece she had prepared.
Fortunately, even though she didn’t practice every day, she had rehearsed frequently enough. Considering that she had crammed a practice session late into the night, her fingers moved surprisingly well.
‘Still, I need to practice more. My hands feel a little stiff.’
Realizing that she couldn’t rely on sheer luck, Letticia played the final note and finished her performance.
After listening attentively, Seraphina finally spoke.
“That was quite a challenging piece, yet you played it with hardly any mistakes. You must have practiced a lot.”
“I haven’t had much time lately, so I had to squeeze in a last-minute practice session last night. I’m relieved that I didn’t make too many mistakes.”
“Yes, it was a performance that matched the lively nature of the piece well. However, playing the andante section in a cantabile style… isn’t that a rather unconventional interpretation?”
Hearing the unexpected critique, Letticia responded calmly.
“Well, the piece is originally a song. Isn’t it better to emphasize the melody rather than just slowing it down?”
“That reasoning isn’t wrong, but some of the people attending our concert may not accept such interpretative choices. In the worst case, your musical preferences and skills could be questioned.”
“Music is meant to be reinterpreted, isn’t it? It’s not an ensemble or an accompaniment—just a solo performance. Shouldn’t I be free to play it as I wish?”
“There are some people who take old traditions a bit too seriously. I’m sure you understand this, given your experience with Countess Finsbury.”
At Seraphina’s words, Letticia recalled the literary gathering from before and frowned. Her rebellious nature, which she had been suppressing for the sake of social harmony, was starting to resurface.
“No matter how I perform, those who want to find fault with me will always do so. Should I really have to hold back just to accommodate them?”
“I’m simply saying there’s no need to make unnecessary enemies. If you intentionally provoke people you already expect to be hostile, it could lead to negative rumors about you in high society.”
“It doesn’t matter. As long as I’m not breaking any social rules or unspoken traditions, it shouldn’t be a big issue.”
Letticia wasn’t making this claim without reason.
Even the formal audience dress she had worn initially faced backlash. However, once she became the Diamond of the season, it quickly became a trend. Her clash with Countess Finsbury had also been dismissed as nothing more than a generational conflict between the old and new.
Letticia had always remained confident. At the audience ceremony, she was named the Diamond of the season. During the literary gathering, even the most devoted advocates of pure literature couldn’t refute her knowledge, and her arguments had, at least temporarily, silenced Countess Finsbury.
As long as she didn’t create a major moral scandal, no one would seriously criticize her over etiquette or social grace.
Seraphina frowned slightly at Letticia’s bold remark and asked,
“Is there a particular reason why you insist on performing it this way?”
“Because I prefer this interpretation.”
“…So it’s not about any strong musical conviction?”
“I’m not a professional musician. Why would I have something like that?”
Letticia shrugged, causing Seraphina’s composed expression to momentarily falter. A mix of exasperation and disbelief flickered across her face before she quickly composed herself again.
“So you make decisions based on how you feel at the moment… I worry you might be taking this matter too lightly.”
“Then how about I sing the song while playing? If I explain that my performance was adjusted to match the vocals, wouldn’t that help silence those who are overly critical of musical interpretations?”
At this suggestion, Seraphina’s frown disappeared. She paused to think before responding in a serious tone.
“…It’s an idea worth considering, but this isn’t a decision we can make alone. We need to discuss it with the others.”
“With the others? But I’ll be the only one singing while playing the piano. Do we really need their input?”
“It’s better to gather opinions beforehand to avoid unnecessary resentment.”
For Letticia, it didn’t matter whether Audrey, Evelyn, or Dayna played their instruments while singing or simply pretended to play and focused on vocals. However, Seraphina seemed to think differently.
Unlike Letticia, who typically delegated tasks to Dayna and only lent her name to the group, Seraphina actively took responsibility for balancing everyone’s opinions. Seeing her approach made Letticia wonder if she fit the ‘secretly a good person’ trope often seen in villainous noblewomen from reincarnation novels.
“Still, I think I should hear how it sounds before making my final decision. Can we rehearse again before the next meeting?”
“Why wait until then? Let’s just start now.”
“Right now? Are you sure?”
“We set aside this time for music practice anyway. We might as well use it.”
After saying this, Letticia glanced over the sheet music again and reviewed the lyrics. Fortunately, she still remembered all the words, so she confidently cleared her throat and began to sing.
Beside her, Seraphina listened quietly to Letticia’s performance.
***
The practice session continued without any major conflicts and ended smoothly.
Although Letticia mispronounced some lyrics and hit a few wrong notes while singing, she quickly regained her rhythm since it was a song she was familiar with.
She knew she would need more practice to fully coordinate playing and singing at the same time, but she preferred this version much more than just playing the piano. She was willing to put in the extra effort.
Seraphina also performed a violin solo, playing flawlessly. Letticia briefly wondered if it was a piece she often practiced but didn’t bother asking.
‘We’re not close enough for me to ask about that anyway.’
Afterward, they chose a piece suitable for a violin and piano duet and briefly discussed their rehearsal schedule. By the time they finished, it was nearly time for afternoon tea.
It would have been impolite not to offer tea to a guest who had stayed this long, so Letticia invited Seraphina to join her for tea, and she accepted.
“I actually wanted to talk to you more, Lady Letticia.”
“Is that so?”
As Letticia poured tea into her cup, she hesitated, wondering whether to simply respond to Seraphina’s comment or take the initiative in leading the conversation.
Before she could make up her mind, Seraphina spoke first.
“Are you planning to wait for the autumn season, Lady Letticia?”
“The autumn season?”
“Yes. This season, His Highness hasn’t visited anyone.”
Of all topics, it had to be the matter of the crown princess candidate.
Letticia instinctively felt irritation creeping into her expression at the tiresome subject. However, she quickly realized that she had never actually discussed this with Seraphina before.
‘Since I’m going to announce my relationship with Ez soon anyway, should I just tell her now?’
In the original story, Seraphina had genuinely aspired to become the crown princess, so it wouldn’t be surprising if she saw Letticia as a rival and tried to keep her in check.
Until now, she had remained polite, likely due to the incident she caused earlier and their ongoing musical collaboration. But if this was her way of finally showing her true colors, things could get troublesome.
Letticia had no desire to be treated as a competitor—especially not over someone like Matthias.
“I’ll still be active in high society during the autumn season, but I won’t be waiting for His Highness.”
“…Is that so?”
Seraphina’s eyes widened as she processed Letticia’s words.
Letticia locked eyes with Seraphina’s green gaze—one that resembled but wasn’t the same as the one she loved—and smiled.
“Yes. I’ve been seeing someone for a while now.”
“Is that so? Congratulations on finding a good match.”
“Thank you, Lady Eskis. It makes me even happier to receive your well wishes.”
After exchanging the expected pleasantries, Seraphina finally asked what she truly wanted to know.
“Then… can I assume that you’ve given up on becoming the crown princess?”
“I never really aspired to that position in the first place. It was only others who considered me a candidate.”
“So, you’re saying that you’ve never once wished to be the crown princess?”
“Yes. Not even once.”
As Letticia spoke, she carefully observed Seraphina’s reaction. If she was the same as in the original story and truly desired the crown princess position, she would likely show some relief upon hearing this.
Alternatively, she might question Letticia’s claim, suspecting that she was lying. After all, among noble ladies in high society, it was rare to find someone who had never even once dreamed of becoming the crown princess.
However, Seraphina’s reaction was neither of those.
