Five days later, upon returning to her quarters, the manager told Ilse that a “package has arrived” and she received three gift boxes.
The sender was Count Kallenberg.
This was the result of sending him a letter to the effect of, “I do not have the money to buy a dress to wear to the ball.”
The accompanying letter made her instantly irritated, as it said something along the lines of, “Be grateful, a kind brother has provided this for you.”
Even so, when she opened the gift boxes, her heart was uncharacteristically fluttering with anticipation. A few seconds later, that anticipation turned into disappointment.
“… I was a fool for having even the slightest hope to think that brother would prepare something new for me….”
Dresses worn by the upper class were typically one-of-a-kind, created from a design sketch. This was especially true for evening gowns, which were tailored precisely to the wearer’s figure.
However, the dress she took out and spread from the box was clearly not Ilse’s size. In particular, the chest was too large. It was undoubtedly a hand-me-down from her niece, Josea, who unlike Ilse that she had large breasts.
It seemed her heart had been a little too excited about her first-ever ball. Was this what they called a contradiction?
“Ugh… I guess I’m just a girl after all…”
Crushed by a mysterious sense of defeat, she stood alone. Come to think of it, no one had come to take her measurements or asked any questions, so this outcome had been inevitable.
Besides the large box, the other two held matching shoes and accessories. Evidently, since it was a Royal Ball, he had made enough preparations so that she wouldn’t be completely disgraced.
Even so, as a dress worn by Josea before her marriage, it was slightly out of fashion. Ilse borrowed fashion plates from a colleague and decided to update the puffiness of the sleeves to the current trend while taking in the bustline.
Ilse had been taught sewing at her boarding school and even sewed her own work clothes to save money, so this was easily manageable. Days flew by as she altered the dress during her breaks, and the day of the ball arrived.
“The makeup should be a little bolder to match with your dress.”
“What should we do with the hairstyle? Should we use this illustration for reference?”
“I think this one is better.”
It was her off-duty colleagues who were doing Ilse’s hair and makeup after she put on the dress. They knew Ilse was attending the ball as a daughter of the Kallenberg Count family.
They were as excited about the extraordinary event of attending the Royal Ball as if it were their own, and all their recent conversations had been focused on her look for the day.
“I’ll lend you the perfume I bought the other day.”
“Given the atmosphere today, I think my perfume is better for today’s vibe.”
“Which lipstick color should we use? I’m torn between these two. ”
They argued back and forth, mostly ignoring Ilse herself. They were simply having too much fun getting her ready.
“Ilse, make sure to hide a small vial of water in your pocket.”
“Why?”
Ilse looked suspiciously at the tiny vial in her palm, and her colleague began to explain with a smug look.
“If things start going well with a gentleman you dance with, secretly dab some water in your eyes. That glistening look makes you appear more captivating. Then you can make him fall for you in one go.”
“I see…”
Ilse nodded in earnest at this completely new piece of information.
“So, Ilse, you’re staking everything on this ball too, aren’t you?”
Her colleagues squealed with excitement behind her.
“No, it’s not like that…”
Since Ilse’s departure for Rheitis was being kept secret until the last minute, only Beate knew the truth.
Her colleagues seemed to assume that she was using Heidmarie’s marriage as a turning point to seriously embark on a husband hunt.
Completely absorbed in the excitement, they gave her bold makeup and an elaborate hairstyle to match the bright red dress she was wearing (Josea’s taste).
“All done~! Yes, you look beautiful.”
“…Wow. What a transformation.”
She stared at her reflection in the mirror. When she blinked, the elegant lady with hazel eyes in the mirror, Ilse, blinked too.
Her usual plain, unadorned face felt like a lie. The current Ilse had clearly defined features and looked quite pretty. She felt like the heroine of a story.
“Thank you, everyone, for helping me get ready.”
“You can thank us by introducing us to the friends or subordinates of the gentleman you meet tonight!”
Ilse left the room, sent off by the voices of her colleagues, whose true intentions were hilariously clear.