Maylily - Chapter 2

In stark contrast to the brightly lit stage, the audience seats were shrouded in darkness. It was nearly impossible to read the expression on the face of the young man seated within it.

Martin, nervously glancing sideways at the face exposed beneath neatly swept-back black hair, cautiously opened his mouth.

“What do you think, Count Everscourt? If you’d like a recommendation…”

“One moment.”

Count Everscourt raised his hand slightly, signaling the approaching secretary as he listened attentively. Martin instinctively fell silent at the grace contained in that simple, refined gesture. The count’s expression grew grave as he listened to the secretary’s whisper.

No matter how genteel they pretended to be, in the end, what they were choosing was a woman to roll around with in bed.

When men came looking to sponsor singers and focused more on their faces than their voices, their dark intentions were obvious. That this young noble had joined the ranks of such debauchery was a bit surprising.

Hugh Skaard. Head of the Everscourt County and CEO of Skaard Enterprises.

A man who bore two radiant titles—one symbolizing the honor of long-standing nobility, the other representing the capital order of a new era. After inheriting the title, he had spent two years in the military, followed by a year abroad for business, and had returned to the country only a few weeks ago.

Even during his absence from high society, the media had tirelessly reported on his dazzling business achievements—and his even more dazzling looks. Thanks to that, his status in society had remained firmly intact.

A perfect noble. A born businessman. The ideal husband.

Despite all the praise that followed the count, it seemed that before being a noble, he was still a man—choosing a woman here like everyone else.

“The blonde woman in the sky-blue dress behind the sofa on the right.”

Martin let out a low sigh as he scanned the lavish party of nobles and courtesans on stage and identified the count’s selection.

“Ah…”

Of all people, Maylily.

A newcomer who hadn’t even set foot on the main stage yet—and a troublesome one at that, having already refused patronage twice. The amount of trouble Martin had gone through to appease the infuriated nobles whose pride had been hurt by her firm rejections was no small matter. Thinking of it still made him sweat.

“She’s a recent addition to the company, and I worry she might not meet your high expectations, Count.”

“That doesn’t matter. Call her.”

Faced with the count’s gentle yet firm order, Martin swallowed a sigh of resignation. All he could do now was hope that the count’s striking looks and overwhelming power would bring Maylily to her knees.

“Then I’ll bring her to the director’s room right away.”

***

The footsteps tapping sharply across the marble hallway floor came to a sudden halt. Martin Fritz, the director, turned to look at Maylily, who was following a step behind.

“Count Hugh Skaard Everscourt is asking for you.”

Maylily was bewildered by the situation, having been called out in the middle of rehearsal so suddenly.

“Count… Everscourt?”

“Yes. It seems he was impressed by you during the rehearsal and has expressed a desire to sponsor you.”

Maylily’s question was a request for clarification on the unfamiliar name, but the director continued speaking as if she should already know him.

“He’s not like the nobles you’ve seen before. If you upset him, I won’t let it slide.”

“Director, but…”

“But what! Unless you plan to stay in the chorus your whole life, stop talking and go along with him.”

In the opera company, singers were divided between soloists and chorus members. Soloists were the ones given lead roles, while chorus members appeared only in ensemble scenes or minor parts. With soloists making up only about twenty percent of the total, the competition to become one was fierce everywhere.

To survive in that competition, it was just as important to find a powerful sponsor who could support you internally as it was to have outstanding talent. That was why many singers, whether they liked it or not, accepted patronage.

“I trust you won’t be foolish enough to make the same prideful mistake again.”

With that stern warning, the sound of footsteps resumed. Maylily parted her lips slightly but, in the end, could not voice the words lingering on her tongue.

“This young lady’s name is Maylily Aile. In her first year with the Purdshire Opera Company, she already stood out by landing a lead role. We expect her to play an important part in the future of our Roden Opera Company as well. As you can see, she’s also quite beautiful.”

The director, usually stingy with praise, now busily flattered Maylily like a merchant eager to unload old stock. Feeling awkward in front of the guest, Maylily simply fiddled with the hem of her skirt beside him.

“I’d like to speak with Miss Aile alone.”

The voice of the man she had vaguely expected to be intimidating was, unexpectedly, low and gentle.

“Yes, of course. Please feel free to talk.”

The director yielded the room without complaint and withdrew, once again reminding Maylily of the high status of the man before her. Swallowing dryly, she bowed to Count Everscourt.

“Hello. I’m Maylily Aile.”

The man seated on the reception sofa looked to be in his mid-twenties. Leaning back with his legs crossed loosely, he appeared both arrogant and graceful. In a word—very noble.

The light gliding down his slicked-back black hair traced his smooth forehead and straight, high nose, casting a cool shadow over the sharp lines of his face. His blue-gray eyes, framed by long, slanted lashes, slowly scanned Maylily from head to toe.

Maylily felt uncomfortable under his sharp, lingering gaze, as though she were being appraised. She lowered her head slightly, and in doing so, the pale skin above her low neckline came into view. She hadn’t thought much of the courtesan costume while on stage, but now it felt newly embarrassing.

The heat of his gaze on her chest, rising and falling with each breath, pricked at her skin. A sudden urge to flee this place surged within her, and for a moment, she even felt like collapsing where she stood.

There was something in his eyes that provoked her shame—something she had never felt even under the most overtly lustful stares. She squeezed her eyes shut and reopened them, trying to shake the emotion.

“Come, sit.”

At last, the Count gave his command, his tone still gentlemanly, in stark contrast to the gaze that had so roughly rummaged through her. Sitting opposite him, Maylily quietly placed her hands together atop her knees.

“Do you know why I asked to see you?”

“Yes. The director told me you wished to discuss sponsorship.”

The Count nodded lightly and cut straight to the point.

“Do you have any terms in mind?”

“Ah, well…”

“If it’s difficult to say, I can offer terms from my side first.”

The director’s warning weighed on her mind, but it was better to reject an offer she had no intention of accepting as quickly as possible. Maylily clenched her hands tightly, bracing herself.

“Forgive me for saying so, but I do not wish to receive sponsorship. I’m sorry.”

As she clearly stated her position with a trembling voice, the Count let out a quiet chuckle.

“Interesting. I didn’t expect a refusal.”

As if amused, he sat up and placed a cigar in his mouth from a silver case. Lighting it, he seemed entirely unbothered by the breach of etiquette smoking in front of a non-smoker implied. But then, Maylily was neither nobility nor a lady.

The smoky haze briefly clouded the air and then faded, yet his expression remained unchanged. Still, Maylily instinctively sensed a shift in his mood. Swallowing her unease along with the coughs rising in her throat, she heard him ask:

“Are you content with your current position? Surely you didn’t leave Purdshire dreaming only of the chorus.”

“Even if it takes a long time, I want to rise by my own ability. A place earned that way is far more meaningful to me.”

“Naive.”

His voice held not a trace of scorn. Still, in this city, being called naive was rarely a compliment, and a bad feeling crept in. A faint smirk brushed the blue-gray eyes fixed on her darkening expression.

“Lately, the consumer base may have diversified, but you know well that opera has traditionally been the domain of the nobility. Their desire to exclusively enjoy high culture has fueled opera’s development and built the stage you now stand on. Do you really believe you can remain in this world and stand tall without their influence?”

“It may not be easy, but I don’t believe it’s impossible. There are people who’ve done so.”

“We’ll see.”

“……”

“Aren’t you past the age where you think the world works just as it appears?”

She had no desire to be understood by a man who mocked her values. All Maylily wanted was to end this fruitless conversation and return to rehearsal.

“Even if the world works differently from what I believe, my decision won’t change.”

The man, who had been drawing deeply on his cigar, exhaled a long stream of smoke and once again swept his gaze over Maylily’s face and body. As that degrading stare made her cheeks burn with shame, he offered a faint smile.

“You’ll regret it.”