The day of the ball arrived. Amelia stood in the special drawing room for debutantes, feeling strangely uncomfortable. The room was flooded with light and resembled a giant nest filled with dozens of fluttery birds of paradise. All the girls, according to centuries-old tradition, were dressed in gowns ranging from pure white to milky cream. These colors were supposed to symbolize their purity, tenderness, and innocence—a blank canvas upon which their future husband could paint his picture of family happiness.

  Amelia's dress was a masterpiece of strategic illusion. Madame Giselle, true to her word, had performed a miracle. Her outfit of creamy milk silk was a work of art consisting of countless layers of the finest fabric. The bodice was adorned with a cascade of delicate ruffles, and the full skirt flowed in airy flounces. All this splendor was designed to conceal what the elderly ladies considered her main defect: the lack of lush curves.

  Standing before the mirror, Amelia felt not like a princess, but rather like a meringue cake—beautiful, airy, sweet to look at, but completely artificial.

  Due to her supreme status, Amelia had always been isolated. She studied separately, walked in a separate part of the park. And now, standing amidst this sea of lace and silk, she realized with a cold shiver: she was the odd one out. She knew no one, while all these girls seemed to be old friends, already broken up into tight-knit cliques bound by common interests.

  At one point, the Master of Ceremonies entered the hall and, in a strict voice, asked the debutantes to line up for a roll call. As he walked slowly along the row, verifying the name and title of each girl, Amelia, head slightly bowed, swept an appraising gaze over her "colleagues." And the first thing that struck her made her blink in surprise.

  Almost all the debutantes possessed incredibly lush, impressive figures. A C-cup or D-cup, at the very least.

  Are they... all like this? she wondered with scientific curiosity. Is this some secret aristocratic standard?! What are they feeding them? GMO cabbage? Why are they absolutely identical in this parameter? Are they really all sixteen?

  Her gaze slid over their outfits, and her internal grumbling only intensified.

  Aigoo..., their necklines plunge down to their navels! One awkward step in the Polonaise, and, damn it, all their 'dignity' will be on full display for the entire assembly. Is this the only argument they've prepared for the marriage market? Just dumping their... merchandise on the counter? Compared to them, with all these ruffles, I look like an underdeveloped teenager. Although, maybe that's for the best. At least nothing of mine will accidentally pop out.

  As soon as the check was over, the girls clustered together again. Amelia decided this was her chance. She was a Princess, and no one would dare refuse her company. Indeed, every group welcomed her with joyful smiles and flattery, vying to invite her to join. But the conversations they held shocked Amelia far more than their revealing outfits.

  If you stumble upon this tale on Amazon, it's taken without the author's consent. Report it.

  It was their first appearance in society, but they were talking not about music or dancing.

  "...my father said Count Ashford will settle all our debts, so I expect a formal proposal from him tonight," one sighed with fake sadness. "We have, of course, already met... several times. He gave me this," she casually displayed a heavy bracelet with large rubies.

  Another girl, fanning herself languidly, let out a quiet laugh.

  "Ah, rubies! Count Ashford, I see, has not wasted any time. Such a color is given not as a sign of hope, but as a sign of... gratitude."

  A third, adjusting a curl, added with the air of a connoisseur:

  "Everyone knows the language of stones, darling. First sapphires—as a promise of purity. But rubies—that is already a reward for boldness and proof that the treasury has been opened."

  The girls exchanged knowing, cynical glances and giggled quietly.

  "Girls, did you buy the new palace garden map from the gardener?" another chirped. "They say there's a wonderful grotto behind the waterfall now where no one will find us for sure! I've already arranged to meet the Baron there..."

  "Just don't go near the Rose Gazebo!" the third, the boldest blonde, announced loudly to the whole group. "That's mine for tonight!"

  Amelia, stunned by such a flood of revelations, couldn't hold back a caustic, knowing smirk.

  Did I... did I hear that right? Freshmen chatting before an exam? No, this sounds more like a logistics department meeting in a brothel!

  "I'm afraid you have an old map of the garden, ladies," she spoke calmly. "Only those wishing to be known as exhibitionists would want to go to the Rose Gazebo right now. After the recent trimming of the bushes, it's visible right through from all three main alleys."

  The effect was like an exploding bomb. The girls instantly surrounded her in a tight ring.

  "Your Highness, what about the grotto?"

  "And by the old greenhouse? Is it safe there?"

  "Princess, you must know all the secret places!"

  Scarcely had she fought off this barrage of questions, tactfully evading answers, when that same bold blonde approached her. She took her arm with the familiarity of a best friend.

  "Your Highness, since we're all friends here..." she whispered conspiratorially in her ear. "Who is the lucky one who plucked your flower? Who are you planning to sneak away with tonight? And anyway... rumor has it your Captain of the Guard is such a hottie... Have you two already?.."

  Amelia's face lost all softness. The sweet smile vanished, replaced by the haughty gaze of a Princess of the blood. She gently but firmly freed her arm.

  "Rumors concerning my person can cost heads," she said quietly, but in a way that made the blonde turn pale. "I advise you to remember that and refrain from speculation."

  At that moment, the doors to the ballroom swung open, and the Master of Ceremonies invited the debutantes to exit in a booming voice.

  What moral decay, Amelia thought with cold clarity, walking into the shining hall. Now I understand why those elderly ladies were so sarcastic about my figure. To them, a woman is just a commodity with specific physical specs. And these young ladies... they have already accepted the rules of the game and are trading themselves without even waiting for the official auction.

  Countless lessons from Madame Eloise, who spoke so much about the honor and dignity of a noblewoman, surfaced in her mind.

  Honor and dignity... she reflected with bitter irony. Do these words mean something else in this kingdom? What is 'honor' in a world where it is bought with a ruby bracelet? And what is 'dignity' if it is hidden in a dark grotto behind a waterfall? It seems that here, 'honor' is simply the skill of not getting caught.

  She mentally crossed out her entire carefully constructed plan of the "Perfect Debutante."

  My initial plan was too naive. I was preparing for a civilized corporate merger, but I walked into a hostile takeover in a pirate cove. This requires not just business analysis, but a full-fledged security department and reputation risk management.