It's Too Late for Regrets - Chapter 9.2

“You did well, Miss Nabi. That guy is known for having a very unusual taste.”

 

“Maybe Lillian from Darc? Or did you just go dancing!”

 

The women around Ines burst out in cheerful laughter.

 

One of them placed a piece of honey-soaked fruit into her mouth, then held her hand and led her onto the floor.

 

A wave of joy and freedom swept through her body.

 

It felt like a part of her heart that had been trapped for a long time, and a breath that someone had forcibly blocked, was suddenly released.

 

She was laughing, but at the same time, she was crying.

 

‘Why… why do I feel like this…?’

 

It was much later that she realized her face under the mask was soaked with tears.

 

“I-I’ll just go to the waiting room for a moment.”

 

“Okay, unnie! But you have to come back, okay?”

 

“Yes, yes…”

 

Ines kept wiping away the tears that threatened to fall down her chin as she turned toward the entrance.

 

She was so happy she could scream from the tallest spire in the capital—so why couldn’t she stop crying?

 

As she lowered her head and moved through the crowd, she suddenly understood the reason for her tears.

 

‘Because it’s unfair…’

 

Then what exactly is so unfair?

 

Ines slipped out of the hall and squeezed into one of the empty waiting rooms lined up along the corridor. She sat in front of a fancy vanity, took off her mask, and wiped away her tears.

 

Her makeup was a little smudged, but the reflection in the mirror—Celia’s face—was still beautiful.

 

“…If it were the real me, I wouldn’t even be allowed into a place like this.”

 

Ines imagined her real face over Celia’s in the mirror.

 

And then she let out a hollow thought.

 

‘It doesn’t suit me.’

 

Her real self had no place in such a glamorous setting.

 

After a moment of hesitation, Ines put the golden mask back on, covering Celia’s face once again.

 

Even if she didn’t belong here, today she wanted to stay as herself a little longer.

 

Tomorrow, she’d have to pretend to be the beloved Celia once again. So maybe it was okay to be selfish just for today.

 

She murmured to herself like a vow.

 

“Don’t cry.”

 

That person told her—to enjoy today.

 

Just as she took a deep breath and stood up to return to the hall—

 

There was a rustling sound from the couch in the waiting room.

 

“…!”

 

Ines turned her head in surprise.

 

She thought the room was empty—but someone was already there.

 

For a moment, she panicked, thinking she’d interrupted a secret meeting between lovers. But what she saw next left her dumbfounded.

 

“Uh…”

 

The person on the couch wasn’t a young couple or a resting nobleman.

 

Black hair poked up over the top of the couch.

 

Beneath it, a light mask that only covered the eyes was visible.

 

It was a young boy, peeking over the couch, showing only his eyes.

 

 

A man in a black half-mask stood on the second-floor balcony overlooking the ballroom floor.

 

He had pulled his hat low, so his hair color couldn’t be seen from afar.

 

“Shall we toast?”

 

A young man from a noble family passed behind him, cheerfully raising a glass.

 

He politely raised his own. Clink—the glasses rang clearly.

 

“Aren’t you going down to dance?”

 

“…I’m looking for someone.”

 

“It would be easier to find them on the floor than from up here!”

 

The already-tipsy man, his nose red, happily patted him on the back.

 

When the man gave only a formal smile and said nothing, the other man awkwardly scratched his neck and walked away.

 

Rayan watched him descend the stairs and merge with the crowd.

 

‘Penellion Leches.’

 

That Leches scoundrel had no idea he’d just been within range of the Grand Duke—the very man he’d once mocked as insane.

 

No one except Duke Heselid knew that Grand Duke Eleanor was attending today’s ball.

 

Rayan had received an invitation but never intended to attend such a useless event.

 

That changed when his informant in Irope told him the woman would be here.

 

From the moment she arrived with the Countess, Rayan had been watching her.

 

It wasn’t quite spying—it was too open for that—but he still couldn’t bring himself to go down and approach her. Just following her with his eyes, watching the woman in the yellow dress, was overwhelming enough.

 

The men who briefly stopped by his side quickly figured out who he was so intently watching.

 

Rayan recalled what one of those bothersome men had said earlier:

 

<You noticed her, right? Celia Irope. The jawline is unmistakably hers, but something feels different.>

 

<…What do you mean?>

 

<She wasn’t someone who danced so cheerfully. She was once called the queen of social circles—always so proud and distant. I’ve never seen her smile so innocently, even if it is a masquerade.>

 

<Well, maybe she changed after nearly dying.>

 

The man wasn’t wrong. Celia, mostly hidden behind a golden mask, looked genuinely happy.

 

Her movements were light, and her lips under the mask were constantly curved into a bright smile.

 

As the tempo of the music picked up, she seemed to struggle, panting slightly for breath.

 

Watching her made Rayan thirsty.

 

He had spent over three hours in the same spot, silently drinking as he stared at her.

 

Of course, the alcohol couldn’t quench that thirst.

 

“….”

 

When the woman in the yellow dress, fluttering like a butterfly, suddenly disappeared from view, the thirst became unbearable.

 

‘Where did she go…?’

 

She probably went to a waiting room to rest, or maybe out to the garden—noblewomen often did when balls went long.

 

He was itching to follow her immediately.

 

Rayan held back the urge. He grabbed another glass of champagne from a tray carried by a passing attendant. He didn’t know how many drinks he’d had anymore. He downed it and muttered,

 

“Celia Irope…”

 

Two years ago, in the summer when Ines supposedly died. After attending her funeral and heading home, she had fallen into a coma from a carriage accident.

 

The missing Ines.

 

Two women with no memories.

 

Ines and Celia—both with completely changed personalities.

 

At some point, Rayan stopped relying on logic and started trusting his feelings. If anyone saw inside his mind, they’d think he was crazy.

 

But he was becoming more convinced of a theory he’d been obsessing over.

 

Their souls had switched.

 

He threw back another drink.

 

There was one reason above all for his certainty:

 

He would never be this drawn to a woman who wasn’t Ines.

 

The only person who had ever captivated him like this—past, present, or future—was his wife.

 

So how was this even possible?

 

But Rayan already knew—supernatural things happened more often in this world than people realized.

 

“….”

 

His hand let go of the glass over the balcony rail.

 

The crystal glass plummeted dangerously over the crowd below.

 

The few drops left inside scattered in the air like jewels, then shattered into countless black pieces that melted into the heated air.

 

Rayan stared at the scene for a while, then turned his back to the railing.

 

His clenched fist trembled slightly. His face twisted in a mix of strange joy and desperation.

 

He went down the stairs and exited the hall through a side corridor.

 

“Ha…”

 

His throat was choked by emotions that clumped like a lump. The impulses boiling inside made his breathing short and shallow.

 

Rayan chewed on his dry lips over and over.

 

‘Should I order someone to bring her to me?’

 

His body burned with the desire to send his knights to fetch the woman who left the hall.

 

He wanted to stand Celia Irope right in front of him—right now—and ask:

 

Are you really my wife, the one who died?

 

Ines. Is it really you?

 

Rayan took a deep breath and yanked off the black mask covering his face.

 

“Get a grip, you stupid bastard.”

 

He cursed at himself and quickened his steps.

 

He couldn’t make a scene.

 

What if she got scared and ran away from him?

 

‘After all the trouble I went through to find her…’

 

And in his current drunken state, even he couldn’t trust himself not to do something reckless.

 

Besides, today—today, his son was here, too.

 

He needed to approach Ines slowly, calmly. There would be other chances.

 

Rayan quickly gave an order to the knights of Eleanor who followed behind him.

 

“We’re leaving. Bring Caesar.”

 

“Yes, Your Highness.”

 

The boy couldn’t endure the heat of the hall and had gone to the waiting room with his nanny an hour ago.

 

Rayan did his best to maintain his expression as he waited for the knight to return with Caesar and the nanny.

 

But the moment he saw the knight burst back out of the waiting room in a panic, a terrible feeling swept over him.

 

Rayan’s face turned cold as he watched the knight rush between the neighboring rooms.

 

‘No way…’

 

His instinct was right. The knights began to panic as they searched the waiting room area.

 

“Where did he go? Not the next room?”

 

“She’s not here either.”

 

The child was gone.

 

Rayan’s face turned pale as he looked back at the noisy ballroom. The dance floor, filled with masked faces, could easily hide a small child.

 

If you lost a child in a place like this—

 

With the creeping dizziness of alcohol, fear began to rise uncontrollably.

 

Even before the flustered knight could return, Rayan was already sprinting back down the corridor.