The Protagonist’s Party is Too Diligent – 118
EP.118 Memory (4)
Right, it’s true that I almost never wore dresses.
I considered Alice’s expression for a moment as the thought crossed my mind.
“Does it not suit me?”
So, I asked her directly.
I didn’t have much confidence in my fashion sense. I wasn’t someone who dressed particularly well in my previous life, either.
Back then, I didn’t trust my instincts, so I’d usually just buy whatever was displayed on mannequins at stores and wear those combinations as-is. Whether those outfits suited me or not was another matter entirely.
Still… isn’t there a saying that the ultimate accessory to fashion is one’s face? Or, not just the face, but the figure too.
The appearance of Sylvia Fangriffon was undeniably stunning, even from an objective standpoint. Rather than merely being adequate, it was more fitting to call it beautiful.
So, unless the outfit was outrageously strange, I figured it should suit me reasonably well.
The dress I wore was light blue.
It wasn’t overly decorated, nor did it expose much skin.
I thought the design had just the right level of elegance… though I wasn’t sure how it would appear to Alice, who had grown up in the royal court.
“Uh, no, it suits you well. Really.”
I couldn’t tell if that statement was genuine, or if she was simply trying to compliment me because the outfit was unbearable to look at and she couldn’t bring herself to say so outright.
Alice always managed to read my expressions, no matter how hard I tried to conceal them.
It was unfair.
Still, I had no intention of being upset with her. Instead, I asked again, this time with measured composure.
“Would wearing this to meet Baron Grace and his wife be considered inappropriate?”
Personally, I didn’t think so. Wearing dresses was a standard practice among nobles, and this one wasn’t exactly cheap. I’d bought it before entering the academy, just in case, though I’d never had a chance to wear it until now. Considering its price, it shouldn’t violate any notions of propriety.
“Ah, well—”
Alice seemed like she was about to say something but then abruptly shut her mouth.
For a moment, her expression hardened.
I resisted the urge to tilt my head in confusion.
If this outfit was truly so hideous that it alone breached proper decorum—
Well, I supposed that could be possible.
You know, like attending a fashion show as a spectator but showing up in something so glaringly bad that it felt intentional. That might be considered improper. Or going to a funeral dressed extravagantly or trying to outshine the bride at a wedding. Maybe there were similar unspoken rules among nobles—where a guest shouldn’t dress more lavishly than the host.
“—No.”
But Alice’s stiff expression soon softened.
Then she spoke quickly, almost too hastily from my perspective.
“No, it’s not inappropriate.”
Her demeanor struck me as suspicious, so I asked again. Alice nodded enthusiastically.
“Yes, it suits you perfectly. And it’s not against any etiquette. If someone criticizes you, it’ll only be because they dislike the outfit for personal reasons.”
“……”
For a brief moment, I wondered if her words were just a roundabout way of saying, ‘It really doesn’t suit you.’
But I decided to take her words at face value.
Alice wasn’t the type to lie about things like this. That much, I’d learned for certain over the past ten years.
If she ever had a grievance with me, Alice would challenge me openly and honorably—just as she had when we were children.
“I understand.”
Seeing me nod without further protest, Alice seemed to relax, looking visibly reassured.
*
Alice realized she had almost blurted out, “Maybe so,” and her face stiffened visibly.
Her poker face was nowhere near as refined as Sylvia’s practiced ability to mask her expressions. Naturally, Sylvia could easily observe the raw awkwardness of Alice’s reaction.
Yet Sylvia’s own expression remained calm, with only a faint flicker of curiosity crossing her features.
Even so, Alice couldn’t bring herself to ask, “Why are you suddenly dressed like that?”
For nobles, royalty, and aristocracy, words often carried layers of implied meaning. Sylvia, having spent ten years in the imperial palace, would undoubtedly understand this.
If Alice had asked such a question, Sylvia would have picked up on the undertones hidden in her words. “Suddenly” would imply “Why here, of all places?”; “dressed like that” would carry the unspoken “Why not something simpler?”; and “Why are you wearing it?” would inevitably hint at “Are you trying to impress someone?”
When strung together, these underlying meanings boiled down to a single, unmistakable sentiment: jealousy.
And that, well… wasn’t that just a bit childish?
Alice, who had never claimed to be Sylvia’s sister before, had only recently started insisting on that title. It had begun when Claire started calling Sylvia “sister.”
Sylvia didn’t seem to have given it much serious thought yet, but if Alice pushed the boundaries just a little further, Sylvia might begin to connect the dots. She’d realize Alice was jealous of Claire.
Not in a dark, obsessive way—nothing like that. Alice’s jealousy wasn’t malicious; it wasn’t clinging or suffocating. It was just… Alice’s way of wrestling with thoughts and feelings she couldn’t bring herself to voice aloud.
It was something like this:
‘Does Sylvia resent being brought to the imperial palace after being kidnapped by Lucas?’
Was there, beneath Sylvia’s carefully controlled expression, some faint trace of lingering resentment toward Alice?
Perhaps Sylvia had never truly thought of Alice as her sister. Maybe Sylvia saw Alice merely as a tool—someone to help her ascend to the throne, shape her desired future, or avoid an unwanted one.
Such thoughts gnawed at Alice. She couldn’t tell if they were rooted in paranoia or reality, but they refused to leave her mind.
The fleetingly visible emotions—could they have been fabricated solely to deceive Alice?
“Time is running late.”
Sylvia’s voice cut through Alice’s spiraling thoughts, snapping her back to the present.
Alice blinked at Sylvia’s words. Beyond her blinking gaze, Sylvia appeared as calm as ever. Perhaps it was the oddly incongruous sky-blue dress that made her seem even more serene.
Of course, Sylvia was beautiful. She could probably make almost any outfit look good.
But something felt… off.
Sylvia’s shoulders were stiff—unnaturally so. Thinking back, her shoulders had always been rigid like that whenever she wore her uniform.
Now that Alice noticed, it wasn’t the uniform’s fault. It was just Sylvia.
She had been so accustomed to moving like a soldier that it had become second nature, even in her posture.
As Alice realized this, the tension drained from her own shoulders, leaving them slack. She barely managed to stifle a wry laugh.
Sylvia was… Sylvia.
If Sylvia looked different in Alice’s eyes, it was only because Alice herself was choosing to see her differently.
“It’s probably time to get ready.”
Sylvia suggested again.
“Before that, Sylvia.”
Alice stood from her seat, taking deliberate steps toward Sylvia. She didn’t walk casually like she would at the academy but instead carried herself with the poise of a princess.
The sight might have seemed strange to an outsider—someone walking with such regal grace while still in their pajamas—but in this room, it was just the two of them. Just like old times.
“You’re holding too much tension in your shoulders.”
“……”
Sylvia didn’t reply, but her dark eyes focused on Alice. In their depths, a fleeting flicker of curiosity passed, which oddly reassured Alice.
“It might be fine when you’re wearing a uniform or formal attire.”
Alice continued, lifting her hands to tap Sylvia’s stiff shoulders lightly, almost playfully, like their etiquette tutor had done to Alice when she was younger.
“But when you’re wearing a dress, walking around with such rigid shoulders will make you look far too tense.”
“Is that so?”
Sylvia’s question was pure and sincere.
“You really don’t know anything, do you?”
Alice sighed unconsciously. That sigh carried the remnants of her earlier doubts and hesitation, melting away as she exhaled.
Once those thoughts were out, she felt unexpectedly lighter.
“Alright then. Wait here until I’m done freshening up. I’ll teach you the basics of moving gracefully in a dress.”
“…Are there specific movements for wearing a dress?”
Sylvia’s thought of changing back into something else was almost tangible, lingering unspoken in the air.
It was a near miracle that Alice didn’t burst into laughter right then and there.
How could they have learned from the same tutor and yet end up with such differing knowledge?
“Got it? Stay right here. You’re representing the imperial family; we can’t afford any embarrassing moments.”
Alice gave Sylvia a firm reminder before turning toward the bathroom. Halfway there, she realized with a jolt of horror that she wasn’t carrying any undergarments or a change of clothes.
Feeling flustered, she hurried back to her bed, her expression tinged with embarrassment as she crouched to rummage through the trunk beneath. She retrieved her clothes and, without another word, dashed back toward the bathroom.
…Really, it was a relief that she was sharing the room with only Sylvia.