novelraw Chapter 289: Ballroom Curse
Chapter 289: Ballroom Curse
Chapter 289: Ballroom Curse “Victor… So you were previously a man?” Soren observed her keenly, as if to try and imagine the difference.
Hearing his question, Victoria simply looked down at the ground, unable to answer. Though, that in itself was practically a confirmation.
Soren simply sighed.
“I see. Cassilda did say that the first swap wouldn’t completely override the original identity. The mask seems to gain more power over you the longer you continue to participate in the banquet. For now, only your gender and small sections of your personality have changed.”
She remained silent for a while before shaking her head. “It's… it’s strange. A part of me wants to return to who I once was, but there is another part of me that wants to keep this transformation. I don’t know whether that too is an effect of the mask or not.”
Soren glanced at her deeply with his glowing amber eyes, his expression remaining serious.
“No, I don’t think the mask is responsible this time. It seems you’ve always held this deeply-seated desire.”
“......” The air suddenly turned awkward. Soren shook his head, deciding to change the topic.
“Regardless, there can be no mistaking it. That mask must be removed before it completely takes over your persona. Which means, reversing the changes must take precedence. We have to find the person you swapped with quickly so that you can regain your original identity.”
“I don’t think that will be possible.” Victoria shut down his suggestion instantly.
He furrowed his brows. “What do you mean?”
“I mean that swapping back won’t be possible anymore. It's simply out of our hands. The person I swapped with… has already perished.”
What? Soren’s frown deepened even further. “Explain.”
She hugged her legs even more tightly. “I witnessed her exiting the banquet hall mere moments after we initiated the swap. It was her choice entirely.”
“You’re telling me they left the banquet hall with your original identity? Why would they do that—didn’t Cassilda explain the rules to them?”
“I… I don’t know…” She shuttered. “Leaving the banquet hall without your original identity means facing the dangers of the castle head on. And for whatever reason, I am able to sense that they had already perished.
“In fact, that was why I awakened to the mask’s existence. As I had previously said, the nobles here are not even aware that they are wearing them. They believe the masks to be a part of their face. Only I was able to notice the existence of mine—it happened after I began to hear whispers in my mind that wished for me to leave the banquet hall.
“Initially, I had assumed this was due to the mask attempting to override my identity, but that theory no longer makes sense. After all, the masks desire us to continue swapping for eternity. Why would it beckon me to leave this quickly?”
She clutched her fists tightly. “It felt… It felt as if I was going insane! My mind was splitting in half—one part wanting me to leave while the other compelling me to stay. That is why I had to hide—I wanted to desperately escape this madness!
“Even… Even if it meant clawing at my own face.”
Hearing the explanation, Soren leaned back and crossed his arms. He thought for a while in silence letting the laughter of the surrounding nobles fill the air. Victoria watched this unfold, unsure of what conclusion the mysterious man would come to. It felt as if time itself had slowed in that moment, every breath harder to inhale than the last.
Eventually, though, Soren turned toward her and smiled. “I think I understand what occured.”
Relief flooded her chest. “R-Really?”
“Yes,” he nodded. “If you remember what Cassilda told you, she specifically mentioned the shadows roaming the castle being the biggest danger to those who leave without their original identity intact. I suspect the reason behind this being the living shadows of the nobles you had swapped with.”
“The shadows…” Victoria recalled her brief conversation with that mysterious woman. Indeed, there was a mention of such a thing.
Soren explained, “Every person here—including you and perhaps even me—has a living shadow. An embodiment of all memories and experiences we have lost. Some shadows are friendly to their living counterparts, while others are far more hostile. However, a connection between the two still persists, regardless of distances or the context of the relationship.
“I suspect that those shadows roaming the castle might be related to the nobles here in this banquet. Out of self preservation or some other hidden reason, they will likely attack anyone who had ‘swapped’ with the identity of their owner. If we go by this assumption, then perhaps your shadow is responsible for killing the person you swapped with. And now, the shadow belonging to the body you took over wishes to do the same to you. Those whispers you hear might originate from them.”
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She stayed silent, unsure of how to process this revelation. After a few moments, she shook her head in confusion.
“But the mask is also compelling me to stay here and participate in the dance…”
“Exactly,” Soren smiled. “That is the trick. You are now facing an ultimatum. You either accept your role in the banquet, continuing to swap for eternity with the rest of the nobles here, or face the danger lurking outside.
“Either option will end in your doom. And I believe that the hosts of this game are aiming for exactly that sort of ending.”
She grit her teeth. “What should I do then?”
“For now, nothing.” He chuckled. Her confused expression made him smile. “You don’t have to do anything for the time being. After all, we are currently going through the ‘ballroom talk’ phase of the game. The nobles are socializing with each other in order to find the right dance partner. They are trying their hardest to obtain information on each other’s identities.
“We will use this time to plan our next move. I will let you know when the time is right to act—so remain here for now.”
With that said, Soren quickly crawled toward the edge of the table. Watching him slowly leave, a question swiftly rose to the surface of her mind. She hesitated to ask:
“Why… Why exactly are you helping me?”
Soren paused for a moment then chuckled. “Because I want to?”
Rising up from beneath the tablecloth, Soren quickly padded down his burial robes, pretending as if he had always been there. He reached for the wine glass on the table and took a sip, letting the burn crawl down his throat.
“Would you like me to refill that for you, sir?”
Soren turned his head slightly, spotting a suit adorned waiter standing near him, holding a onyx colored wine bottle gracefully. His neatly combed hair shined brighter than even his smile.
Soren nodded with a chuckle, “Yes, please.”
After uncorking the bottle and pouring the wine, the elegantly dressed servant grinned. “Your response isn’t very noble-like.”
Soren looked into his eyes more deeply and smiled. “Oh?”
The servant explained, “Forgive me, sire, but the word ‘please,’ is not commonly used in high society. There is no need for the master to plead for something from his or her servant.”
“I see,” Soren watched as the waiter finished pouring the wine then bowed in his direction. Seeing the man turn around to leave, he flashed a smile while swirling his wine glass.
“I must say, that was an amazing act. Though, it was somewhat lacking in one crucial detail.”
The servant froze, the nobles around them continuing their conversations in ignorant bliss. He didn’t turn back to face Soren, addressing him from a distance this time.
“And what detail might that be, sire?”
Soren held the glass to his nose, admiring the wine’s aroma. “A servant serves the house. A host is the house. You couldn’t resist correcting my etiquette because your pride as an Azrathielli noble wouldn’t allow a guest to behave like a commoner in your castle.”
He chuckled, “Am I correct, Duchess Cassilda?”
Their silence carried over for a while, filled only by the chuckles of distant masked nobles. Eventually, the waiter shifted, turning toward Soren with an uncanny smile plastered across his face. It was too wide to be normal at all—even his jaw looked to have been stretched unnaturally.
Upon seeing this, the corners of Soren’s mouth sunk into a slight frown. “Not a very noble-like expression, I must say.”
“You’re right, how hypocritical of me.”
Suddenly, the servant’s flesh began to melt like hot wax. The neat suit and bowtie morphed into cascading crimson fabrics, and his masculine face dissolved behind a filigreed gold mask, revealing the figure of a beautiful woman. It was none other than Duchess Cassilda, holding tightly to the wine bottle which had transformed into an ornately designed, scarlet folding fan.
Locking eyes with Soren, she chuckled softly while addressing him—ancient malice dripping with each syllable:
“It seems my little prank didn’t go how I wanted it to go… How unfortunate.”
“How did you want it to go?” Soren let out a smirk.
“Nothing too dramatic. I simply wanted to see how good those eyes of yours were.” The golden hue within her irises shifted in the light as she stared into the flames of his.
Soren shook his head.
“My eyes are very good. Good enough to see through most things, in fact. That includes this idiotic ‘game’ you’ve managed to set up.”
She grinned silently, her eyes sharpening like that of a predator.
Soren looked around the banquet hall, taking note of the details. Eight chandeliers surrounded the center, each one illuminating more than a dozen nobles. They all wore eloquent dresses and suits, all tailored exactly to their sizes. Embroideries made of golden silk ran up and down each garment, exquisite in both texture and color.
All of it together made the scene unfold like a renaissance painting from antiquity brought to life. The colorful history had leaped out of the canvas…
But, indeed, that was all it was in the end.
History.
“Duchess,” he strolled casually beside her, hand still wrapped around the delicate wine glass, “has anyone ever told you what the definition of insanity is?”
She glanced at him from the corner of her eye, seeing his smile growing wider and wider.
“Tell me.”
“It is the act of doing something over and over and over again, hoping for a different result to emerge. That is how the saying goes in my homeworld, at least.” He shook his head and chuckled.
“.....” The woman remained silent.
“Tell me, Duchess… How long have you been hosting this banquet?”
She paused for a moment, then shook her head. “If you’re hoping to break the rules of this game, then I hope you’re prepared for the consequences. Doing something over and over again… That would indeed be fitting for our scenario. After all, you aren’t the first to attempt some sort of scheme, only to end up worse because of it.
“Nor will you be the last.”
“We’ll see about that. I’ve made some adjustments to my plan, you see.” Soren bowed toward her gracefully and smiled, “So how about it—would you honor me with a dance?”