21 A Rose for Dio (21)

Social balls are traditionally held at night. This is an old Western custom that originated among court nobility and gradually extended to the middle class and commoners.

These social balls are the favorite pastime of young men and women. They provide an opportunity to make new friends, dance with those who pique their interest, and deepen their understanding of one another, all in the hopes of finding a future spouse.

Young ladies look forward to these events the most, though men are not immune to the allure either.

Dio rested his chin on his hand, offering a sharp critique: "It is a platform for hunting, riddled with lies and vanity. A person’s appearance and the wealth behind them are merely weights on a scale, measured by critical eyes to see if they are worthy of one another."

Mumuno had just stepped out of his room and overheard this. With the groggy tone of someone who had not yet fully awakened, he replied, "Dio, you are far too defensive. Not everyone harbors such intentions. Perhaps tonight will be something you’ll remember for the rest of your life."

He said it offhandedly, but Dio, having heard these words, kept his gaze fixed on him. "What are you planning?"

His tone seemed tinged with a hint of pleasure and anticipation.

Mumuno blinked innocently.

Inside his heart, he whispered to the System: "I think this guy Dio definitely has some ideas about me!"

The System replied emotionlessly: "One of the three great illusions of life—'They like me.' It is more likely he thinks you are up to something tonight and is merely curious."

Mumuno: "..."

He felt deflated, and a blush crept across his cheeks.

Darn it, he should be becoming thicker-skinned, so why was he starting to get shy now?

Dio’s gaze drifted to Mumuno’s attire for the evening.

It was a loose, dark-colored, mid-length evening coat that draped slightly over his lower back. The young man was slender and tall, with the only real softness found in that particular curve. Beneath the coat was a snow-white shirt with a turn-down collar, slightly open at the neck, revealing skin so fair and smooth it was almost dazzling.

On his feet, he wore brown riding boots that clung to his thin calves, ending at ankles so delicate they seemed easily breakable.

Dio pulled his hand back, clenching it into a fist.

It was as if he were trying to grasp something tightly within his palm.

Jojo was already prepared. Waving his hand, he called out to the two of them, "Hurry up, you two. It would be terribly impolite to be late."

Jojo was dressed very formally today, having donned a new suit, styled his hair, and even put on a top hat. He resembled his father, George, greatly, and with his current appearance, he possessed even more of a gentleman’s air.

Dio walked over. He was as tall and robust as Jojo, with a standard inverted-triangle physique. The suit he wore today was slightly tight, giving him the air of a "suit-clad thug."

Fortunately, he possessed an exceptionally striking, refined face and the golden hair that people favored most, making him quite popular among the ladies.

Mumuno walked over, appearing quite slight compared to the other two.

At times, he seemed entirely boneless; even while standing, he would lean against Dio.

The latter, as if accustomed to it, didn’t even blink.

George was very satisfied with the three children he had raised, but he was helpless against Mumuno’s lifelong lethargic temperament. He scolded him slightly, "Mumuno, as a gentleman, you should stand straight. You mustn't lean on Dio like that!"

Mumuno was quite obedient to George; he straightened his posture and flashed a smile. "I know, Uncle George. Don’t worry, I will maintain my decorum during the ball."

George knew this well—no matter how casual Mumuno was usually, he was always elegant and serious once they were out in public, leaving no room for criticism.

"But you still shouldn't..." George sighed.

Jojo interrupted him anxiously, "Sorry, Father, let’s save the rest for when we return. We have more important things to attend to now. Being late for a ball is hardly gentlemanly behavior."

George looked at the impatient Jojo and sighed softly, "Very well, stay safe."

The three of them answered in unison and boarded the carriage.

Mumuno whispered to Dio, "Look at Jojo. He must be impatient. Erina is probably already waiting for him at the ball; he’s completely distracted."

Dio listened to this, a thoughtful expression appearing on his face.

Mumuno watched him quietly. This guy was usually uninterested in Jojo’s affairs, but the moment he saw an opportunity to cause mischief, he became more active than anyone.

Dio hummed, "Stop looking at me like that."

Mumuno was not offended by his rudeness and smiled. "Dio, you’re sure to be the star of the ball today. That’s not bad at all."

Dio replied offhandedly, "You look quite beautiful yourself."

Mumuno narrowed his eyes and sighed, feigning helplessness. "Not everyone appreciates my face, though. They don't think I look particularly remarkable. Besides, as you said, many people prioritize money. I am currently penniless; no one will have their eye on me."

Dio had been distracted, but upon hearing this, he tightened his fist, his expression darkening as if someone had insulted him personally.

Mumuno himself didn't care.

Jojo said, "It doesn't matter, Mumuno. There will surely be a young lady who doesn't care for such superficial things. She will see the shining qualities within you—those that cannot be changed or easily discarded."

Dio added from the side, "Jojo is right."

Mumuno hadn't expected Dio to say something human for once; it was a rare sight indeed.

His look of surprise was not lost on Dio. The latter deliberately draped an arm over Mumuno’s shoulder, pulling him close as if they were the best of brothers. "Fool, you don't actually believe Jojo’s nonsense, do you? Aren't you, at your core, just lazy and dull? What young lady would be foolish enough to jump into your pit of fire?"

Mumuno gnashed his teeth in anger: "Dio! You bastard—!!"

They were about to bicker, but fortunately, the carriage came to a stop, neatly putting an end to the farce.

This was a ball hosted specifically by a Baron, whose daughter had come of age. He had organized the event to find her a suitable husband.

If one party wasn't enough, he could simply host more.

For an aristocratic family with vast wealth, hosting a ball was the equivalent of a modern person eating out at a restaurant.

However, for nobles who kept up appearances while their inner coffers had been hollowed out, relying solely on their status and the remaining property of their estates to survive, even hosting a single ball was a great struggle.

In such times, they had to constantly attend balls hosted by others, dress themselves up, and marry into wealthy families—even if those families were the merchant-class ones they had once looked down upon.

As long as it allowed them to continue their life of decadence, anything would do.

Mumuno surveyed the castle where the ball was being held. It was tall and beautiful, imposing, and surrounded by thorns and roses. Outside, the grounds were filled with circular groves of trees, perfectly manicured by gardeners; it would be difficult to be spotted if one were to hide inside at night.

One had to admit, it was the perfect place for a secret rendezvous...

Dio turned his head to look as well, a mysterious light flickering in his eyes.

*

The invited orchestra was already playing a magnificent melody. Since the ball hadn't fully begun, the music was soft and elegant—like the light chirping of a nightingale, or perhaps a solo by a violinist.

Mumuno remarked, "Once the ball begins, I suppose I’ll have to invite a girl or two to dance, or else people will think I’m too arrogant and rude."

He looked left and right, clicking his tongue in wonder. "There are so many young ladies here."

This was normal; young ladies could rarely inherit their fathers' wealth. If they wanted a good life, they had to choose the path of marriage.

This was the undeniable and painful reality of the era.

Mumuno looked away and noticed that many people were watching Dio, but the latter had been looking around since entering, wondering what he was thinking.

Jojo had followed Erina as soon as she arrived, eager to chat with her—what a passionate, excited young man.

Mumuno guessed he would likely spend the entire evening asking Erina to dance; any discerning person could see they were in the throes of a whirlwind romance.

But the reality caught him by surprise.

Jojo was actually asking other young ladies to dance as well, and one of them even looked vaguely familiar.

Mumuno narrowed his eyes as he watched. Out of sheer surprise, he abandoned his own intentions of asking any ladies to dance for the moment.

Dio, meanwhile, didn't care at all if he was considered arrogant for refusing to dance. He wasn't interested in flirting with young ladies, nor was he willing to indulge their subtle provocations or hints.

Even if talking to them wouldn't have hindered his plans much.

Mumuno pondered for a long time, and a flash of inspiration crossed his mind; he was on the verge of remembering where he had seen the girl Jojo was dancing with.

Just as his thoughts were at their clearest, his wrist was suddenly gripped.

The strength was all too familiar. Mumuno turned his head and asked, puzzled, "Dio, what is it?"

Dio said, "There's no telling when this dance will end; it will likely go on for a long time. Do you really want to stay here and be the center of everyone's attention? Come away with me! There’s a small grove outside—weren't you interested in it? Come and see it with me."

Mumuno: "Eh... wait...!"

...It’s clearly you who wants to see it, you guy.

Mumuno was dragged off without a word. Dio was flamboyant and arrogant; he didn't care about the opinions of others at all. Even if every eye in the room were on them, it wouldn't matter to him.

He could even feel everyone watching them with curiosity.

At that moment, the orchestra's music reached a climax. The saxophone and drums erupted in unison, interspersed with the sounds of other, indefinable instruments. The melody grew more intense, soaring higher and higher.

It was as if they were in the middle of a battle.

Even the movements of the men and women dancing in the center of the hall became more frantic. The crisp, rhythmic tapping of their shoes against the floor masks the sound of their escape from the castle.

As Mumuno and Dio stepped out of the castle together, a flash of realization crossed his mind—

He remembered where he had seen that girl!