Prelude to the Performance

"Actually, before we get into all of that. I wanna ask you first, where do you live?" asked the Countess, as she leaned back on her seat.

Dressed in her tight black suit, under which is a white undershirt, the curves of her figure were pretty discernible: whether it be her slim wait or the sudden protrusion in her slender body caused be her sizable bust, it left much to the imagination yet simultaneously revealed her enticing form.

I couldn't peek at where her waist met her hips because of our table blocking my view. But judging by what I've seen on our previous brief encounters, I'm guessing she's pretty loaded back there as well.

It really makes you wonder as to how did Damien not have developed an Oedipus complex yet, with how bangable his mother looks.

"Me? I live in the city with my family," I say, hiding my blatant ogling.

"Oh, that's good then. We're also staying in the city for the meantime, up in the northern district." the Countess replied, looking like she's already pieced together a plan.

For a few seconds, she turned her head to watch over Damien who's already found Mikael and were talking to each other, hopefully about their upcoming performance together in a few minutes.

"So what do you say?" she asked, turning back to look at me again. "I know you're not supposed to force a friendship but he really needs good company before he changes completely. He was so sweet back then but now he's getting dragged along with his friend's bad hobbies."

Although, I'm all ready to say yes, I still asked. "Can't the Countess do something about it herself? Surely, he would listen to his mother more than he would to me—someone he views as a lowly commoner."

"Sometimes, the messenger matters more than the message." she replied wistfully. "No matter what I say, he's presently at an age where he'll think 'Oh, mom's nagging again' and not consider my words carefully."

"Still, why me? If it's just outsiders, then there must be plenty of decent people from other noble families," I pressed.

"I trust the character judgment of your teacher," replied the Countess, crossing her arms in her chest which caused her breasts to be prompted up nicely. "Not to mention, does it really matter if you're a noble or not? A burst of his preconceived notions about noble superiority may do him good when he encounters a person as gifted as yourself, common birth or not."

"However, if you fear him mistreating you or abusing his power, have no concerns," she added. "I'll ensure it doesn't happen. And should anything occur beyond my sight, you need only inform me. I'll...see to it that you're appropriately compensated for any trouble."

I knew that there wasn't anything dirty or sexual with what she meant, but my rotten mind just keep interpreting it that way.

Exhaling a mouthful of air, I commented: "The Countess really seems to treasure her son, for you to go to such lengths for him."

After hearing my words, the Countess showed a somewhat sad smile. "Yes. I know his behavior and attitude is far from ideal, but he's my son. Ever since his father died, he lacked a proper male figure in his life. No matter how I try to discipline him, he won't listen to a woman telling him what to do."

Then I noticed her gaze fall regretfully to her own attire – men's clothes, worn in an attempt to appear more authoritative to her son.

Aside from being a single mother, she also has to fill in for the role of the Count who is currently too young to assume power. Is that why she dresses as a man? To seem like a more commanding presence to her rebellious boy? No, actually, not just to her son. As Regent ruling in her young son's stead, she had to maintain authority over their subjects as well in order to properly run their house and lands.

However, rather than commenting on it, I instead diverted the topic to another direction. "No wonder the Countess seemed to remind me of someone."

When she asked what I meant, I told her: "My mother was the same," I said gently. "She might not be a noble like yourself but she also had to raise me and my sister alone. She's strong and hardworking, taking on burdens herself," I exaggerated fondly.

The Countess's seemed surprised by my words.

"I thought surely, someone like you must've been raised from a perfect family," she then sighed, her shoulders slumping despondently. "If the lack of a father figure isn't the problem, then perhaps the issue lies with me after all."

Her eyes were filled with doubt, regret and worry towards her past actions.

"Not at all," I said kindly. "My mother did the best she could, as I'm sure you have. Your son's choices are ultimately his own, regardless of how he was raised."

The Countess gave me a wan but grateful smile. "Haa.. Your mother must be one hell of a woman," she said wistfully before sighing "At the very least, much better than I am. She likely doesn't have a fraction of my wealth yet she's raised finer children."

"Yes, she really is. The reason I'm so determined to succeed is so I can repay her efforts and help shoulder her burdens sooner," I say, trying to make myself look like the perfect son in front of her.

It seemed to have the intended effect as after hearing my words, she turned to me with a kind and charming smile on her face. She rest her chin on one hand as she leaned forward towards me.

"Make sure you do so," she said gently, twirling a few strands of her straight black hair around her fingers. "She will never say or ask for it herself, but you cannot fathom how greatly she requires reassurance, to be loved, or to have her efforts acknowledged. No matter how much your mother asserts that she does not require it or how powerful an image she puts up, believe me. She really needs it."

"Small gestures can mean the world to one's heart," she tacked on at the end.

I look at her meaningfully after she speaks, "Perhaps the Countess speaks from experience?" I ask gently.

The Countess pauses for a moment, her eyes lingering on mine as she lowers her hand. She chose not to reply but rather flash me a soft, knowing smile with her eyes instead.

After a while, the Countess gives me a weary but grateful smile. "Your mother must sleep peacefully at night, knowing her son is as capable and considerate as you," she says tiredly. "I'm even more convinced that you being friends with my son would be of great benefit to him. So.. do you mind?"

I give her a shy smile and honestly reply, "I don't see why I should refuse. The Countess has already asked me for this much. I'll try to befriend Mr. Damien as the Countess wishes, however, I can't guarantee anything."

"That's kind of you. I'm truly grateful," she replied. "I'll see to it that you're well compensated for your troubles."

A brief silence then befalls our table. Taking a final sip from her glass, she glances at her watch and remarks, "Feel free to go. I've already taken up too much of your time. You wouldn't want to waste the remainder of the banquet with an old lady like me, would you?"

It was already 9, a full hour after the beginning of the banquet, and as such there's only another hour remaining. All around us, people of all ages—mostly younger—were talking, socializing, and building connections with each other. Food had become secondary as they were all out of their tables and were standing around in the ballroom.

Many had even built up so much rapport and chemistry with each other that they were at the center, dancing to the rhythm as the band played a lovely tune.

"Madame, you'd be surprised by how much I enjoyed getting to know you.. and your son, just now." I reply politely. "But I'm sure there are others who wish to speak with you this evening, so I'll graciously take my leave."

"Uhm.. If I may, with your permission," I stop just as I was about to stand up from the table, before continuing hesitantly yet eagerly, "Would you mind if I write to you occasionally? If y-you don't mind the thoughts of a commoner."

"…?"

Out of all the things I've said so far, she looked most surprised and taken aback by the words that I've just spoken. It was as if it took her a second to properly process my words due to either shock or the sheer audacity of someone like me to actually suggest that.

Eventually, she politely put a hand over her mouth as an amused lock came upon her face. Without removing her hand, she replies, "For your age and background, you're pretty well spoken. I'll give you that. Perhaps a little private exchange could be... interesting, for both of us. You may write to me, we'll see if our letters continue."

"Just write it to–"

She provides her address, and I quickly commit it to memory. I would be lying if I said I wasn't thrilled at the prospect secretly of staying in touch with someone so far above my rank, and my future "friend's" mother no less.

Then with a wave of her hand, we bid farewells as I made my way back to my teacher who was still standing on the same corner I had left her earlier. She had an eyebrow raised when she saw me coming back towards her.

Before I could say anything, she gestured with her chin that we both go the dark, empty balcony for more privacy. As soon as she left the ballroom, I quickly followed suit.

"Did I do good?" I asked with a proud smile on my face.

"I thought I told you to go make some friends?" Aerin retorted playfully. "Damien looked like he had eaten a bug when you were sitting with him at the table."

"It seems that he's not too fond of people like me," I say awkwardly as I scratch my cheeks.

Hearing my words, Aerin chuckled lightly. "I was so worried when I saw that, out of all people, you chose to approach the Rosenthal family's scion first. I was gonna step up myself had he done anything untoward you in public. But you handed it better than I thought you would. I expected that you would be trembling in your shoes the moment he started spouting with that spoiled mouth of his"

"I really was nervous!" I exaggerated with my hands. "I approached him because I remember him from the backroom earlier. I was just trying to be friendly and then he snapped back at me as though I killed his pet hamster or something."

Aerin patted my shoulder reassuringly. "You cannot please all. What matters is you acted with good intent. Some hearts are closed to certain people; do not take it personally. Besides, it's his loss for turning you away."

I was just about to nod in gratitude when Aerin suddenly bent forward, lowering herself to my level. "Though, I must say, you lingered on that table a little too long, don't you think? Damien ran off minutes earlier but you seemed to have had a fun time talking with his mother," she eyed me suspiciously.

At her words, I chose not to say anything, cheeks flustered, as though I was embarrassed.

Seeing my silent admission, Aerin pinched my cheeks and ignored my reaction before continuing. "That's all anyone can do really. You did well for a first attempt. So, on to the next thing—your performance later on. You haven't forgotten, haven't you?"

"No. Of course not. I haven't forgotten." I shook my head the best I could with her holding it firmly on her hands.

"Consider your earlier interaction with Damien as practice." Aerin says. "In retrospect, it might've been better that you've chosen to interact with such an elitist snob from the get-go, rather than mingling with the other, more humble and sensible peers of yours. As they say, adversity helps you grow."

"Don't worry though," Aerin continued. "I haven't forgotten about my words earlier. I'll be even more generous, considering you held your ground earlier better than I had expected."

Aerin's head then turns towards the door, where the stage could be seen from a distance. From here, we could see that a certain pair of boys were now standing upstage. "Oh, it's their turn now," I say as I look at Mikael and Damien.

Though, when compared to the other events taking place, it could be said that they were merely a sideshow or in the background as everyone else were busy trying to maximize the 2-hour period where in they're at the presence of so many high-ranking personnel by socializing as much as they could.

That doesn't mean they don't have an audience though.

As mentioned before, the highest ranked personages weren't caught up in the game of social politics and merely chatted with their friends and acquaintances. Since they were also coincidentally the people closest to the stage, they actually paid attention to the performers.

The royal family, the ducal houses, and the other individuals of illustrious backgrounds and status—these are the people that are paying attention.

"I wonder if they feel any pressure at all," I murmur to myself as I recalled their big words.

Weren't they saying something about showing off how classy and cultured they were to the princesses? With such arrogant claims, I wonder what kind of a show they'll put on to back it up.

"Do you want to move closer?" asked Aerin. "Seeing how bad other people are is one way to motivate yourself," she said with a mischievous look in her face.

I couldn't help but chuckle at those words because I knew they were true. Too often, when people put themselves down, they underestimate just how bad and stupid other people could get. Like if you're considered average, then consider that approximately 50% of the population is somehow worse off than you.

That's an idea that I always used to comfort myself with back then.

"Sure," I answer. "I want to see just how good these young masters are."