The days went by. Sylene was busy with the etiquette classes conducted by Mavis. It turned out that being a noble was also hard…
You had to appear nonchalant, as if everything came easily, and still look elegant and beautiful even when it was difficult.
Like a swan—paddling furiously underwater while looking graceful above the surface.
"Be a swan. Graceful. Elegant. Sit up straight!" Mavis scolded, tapping Sylene's shoulder the moment he started to slouch.
"Quack," Sylene replied flatly.
Mavis stared at him—long, suffering, contemplating his life choices—before releasing a deep, defeated sigh.
"It's only two more days. We still have to finish this class, then get fitted. Madame Lancia is coming. We don't have time for you to turn into a duck."
Sylene exhaled heavily. He felt restrained, exhausted, but he had made a promise—to protect Sir Melchior from those nobles.
He couldn't embarrass him. He had to be the best he could be.
It's fine, he told himself.
