Saori Part 2

“That was quite a show.”

Lost in thought, Saori somehow failed to notice the Lady standing next to her until she spoke. Saori jerks around too quickly, almost losing control of her tray, but skillfully regaining control of the platter just in time to prevent a spill. She composes herself as she notes the Lady’s appearance: she wears a simple black dress that matches her long black hair, which is arranged in an intricate plait. Her skin is darker than what Saori is used to seeing in Tokyo—a light chocolate color. Small silver earrings and a silver bracelet provide an accent to her ensemble.

Saori’s gaze is quickly drawn to the girl’s eyes, however—in stark contrast to her dark outfit and hair, they are an almost unnatural shade of blue. As bright as the sky and as clear as crystal, it’s as if her pupils are surrounded by rings of the purest ice. Despite looking to be the same age as Saori, the girl gives off an air of authority that makes her seem far older, helped by the fact that her heels give her a slight height advantage.

Caught off guard, Saori responds, “Show, your Grace?”

“Yes, I happened to overhear your entire exchange with Mr. Hughes just now. Threatening to ‘kick his ass’ were you?”

Saori’s face reddens. She hadn’t realized that someone had overheard her conversation with Clain. “With respect, your Grace, I didn’t say that.”

The girl smiles knowingly at Saori’s obvious embarrassment. “Well, you practically did, did you not? I do not think I have ever heard a serf talk back to a Lord quite like that.”

Turning her head away, revealing a large and intricately inlaid silver hair clip, the Lady regards the other side of the room. Saori follows her gaze. Clain can be seen laughing wholeheartedly with the other Lords and Ladies, including the girl in the turquoise dress. “Mr. Hughes is too nice for his own good.”

Saori meets her piercing gaze as she continues, “You are very lucky that you talked back to him in particular, anyone else would have had you removed from the dance.” The smile she gives now appears a touch more sadistic as she adds, “I know I would have.”

Saori’s embarrassment flashes to anger, but she controls herself in light of the girl’s comment. The girl was right, after all. “I understand, your Grace. I’ll be more mindful in the future.”

The girl seems to notice Saori’s tray of refreshments for the first time, carefully plucking a glass of orange juice from the assortment. She sips modestly from the glass, slender pinky extended, the picture of Ladylike grace. Never once does her imperious gaze leave Saori. When the glass is withdrawn from her lips, they are no longer smiling.

“I jest,” she says sincerely. “To be honest, I found your response to Mr. Hughes to be rather refreshing.”

“Really, your Grace?”

“Indeed.”

A pudgy Lord wearing a gaudy purple and gold suit approaches them, cutting the girls’ conversation short, “Well, if it isn’t the Institute’s golden egg!”

He runs his fingers through his greasy black hair, dark eyes drifting over Saori’s figure. Unlike Clain’s mostly skeptical look, this boy’s gaze makes Saori’s skin crawl. She struggles not to recoil when he smiles disgustingly at her.

The Lord recklessly snatches a glass of cola off of Saori’s tray, nearly causing the platter to capsize, if not for her quick reflexes. The as yet un-introduced Lady stares icily at the newcomer as he throws his head back and guzzles the drink. He finishes it in one go, releasing an obnoxious belch before setting the glass back on the tray with too much force. The tray almost falls again, but Saori manages to save it somehow.

He adjusts his collar, the fabric restricting his thick neck. With a twinkle in his eye, he asks, “Serf, I have a question for you.”

Saori suppresses her repulsion. “Yes, your Grace?”

“Your profile said you’re a C cup.” He wetly licks his lips. “Is that true?”

It takes a moment for his question to sink in, but when it does rage dominates Saori’s expression, despite saying that she would be more mindful of her temper only moments ago. She might have regretted how she responded to Clain, but she would certainly have no qualms about telling this pervert off, consequences be damned. But as Saori parts her lips, mouth locked and loaded with a heated retort, the Lady speaks instead.

“Enough.” she says commandingly, loud enough to attract the attention of the surrounding partygoers and a few chaperones. The glare she is directing at the Lord is absolutely glacial.

He drags his eyes away from Saori, looking disinterestedly at the Lady. “And who are you?”

“I will not disgrace myself by providing my name to a pig.”

He doesn’t seem to be bothered in the least by her insult, but as he continues to coldly regard her, he starts to recognize her. “Those eyes…” He smiles amusedly once he realizes who the girl is. “So, the prodigal son returns?”

“Leave us. Your stench is giving me a headache.”

The pudgy Lord hesitates, finally noticing the attention their conversation has garnered. “Whatever, Princess.” he turns away with a sneer, but not before shooting one more salacious glance at Saori. The girls stare angrily at him as he trundles off toward a table full of appetizers.

Saori takes a moment to get her anger in check. “Thank you, your Grace.”

“It sickens me that someone like that can be called a Lord.” she replies acidly.

After a pause, “If you don’t mind my asking, what is your name, your Grace?”

“It is not your place to ask that of me, serf.”

“Of course, Your Grace. My apologies.” Saori replies disappointedly, stung from the reminder of her status.

The Lady sips slowly from her glass of orange juice. She sighs, seeming to regret her reply, and answers Soari’s question anyway, “My name is Tatianna Van Dalen.”

There is a certain magnitude that the Lady’s words carry, but their importance is lost on Saori. Before she has the opportunity to think about it any further, Tatianna moves on. “But my name is not important. Despite what my earlier teasing might suggest, I actually have some important questions for you to answer.”

Over the next hour or so, Tatianna asks Saori questions about her weapons and fighting experience, with many of the questions being oddly specific. Saori answers as well as she can, but some of the questions are so radical that she can only give speculative responses. The entire time, Tatianna listens with rapt attention, completely uninterested in the dance happening all around her.

Far fewer Lords and Ladies approach Saori, obviously due to the company she is keeping with Tatianna. Between questions, she notices the looks that the other aristocrats are giving Tatianna behind her back, pointing and whispering covertly to each other. Those that do come near, either out of ignorance, curiosity, or genuine desire for a refreshment, receive a look of disapproval from Tatianna and quickly retreat. Saori regrets the missed opportunities for interaction that Tatianna’s behavior creates, but at the same time she doesn’t mind keeping the aristocrat entertained. It certainly makes her job easier. Plus, she doesn’t have to worry about dealing with any fat creeps.

Eventually, the music peters out, replaced by an announcement that booms throughout the ballroom.

“That concludes the Ito Institute’s Annual Graduation Dance! All of us here at the Institute would like to congratulate and thank you for attending tonight.” Saori and her fellows bow, curtsy, or otherwise defer themselves due to the platters they are carry. The Lords and Ladies deliver reserved applause. “We wish you all the best in your continued education. Please proceed to the entrance area—your automobiles will be prepared shortly. Goodnight!”

As the majority of the partygoers file out of the ballroom, another message plays over the speakers.

“For all those wishing to participate in tonight’s auction, please make your way to the auditorium. The auction schedule is now available for viewing—please check your AD to see when the lot or lots you are interested in purchasing will be available. Bidding will start in 30 minutes, at precisely eleven o’clock. All Ito Institute graduates, head to the backstage area of the auditorium immediately.”

Saori nods to Tatianna. “Please excuse me, your Grace.”

The Lady pauses for the barest of moments as she considers what to say, but quickly settles on a simple, “Of course.”

Tatianna grins as she watches Saori leave the slowly emptying ballroom, before heading to the auditorium herself.