Chapter 31: You Dance like my Dead Grandma.
Belle’s laughter faded into a soft curve of her lips calm, confident, and faintly indulgent.
"Very well," she murmured, her voice smooth enough to make the orchestra’s strings sound clumsy by comparison. "Anything for my dear disciple."
I tilted my head, grinning. "You say that like you’re doing me a favor. You should be honored, dancing with the great me."
A quiet chuckle escaped her, so subtle I almost missed it. "Ah, yes, how could I ever forget? The privilege is all mine."
I placed a hand over my heart, feigning offense. "Finally, some recognition."
She shook her head, a ghost of amusement crossing her face as she stood. The motion alone drew half the room’s attention. Her black and silver dress shifted with her movement like a living shadow.
And then she took my offered arm.
That’s when the atmosphere changed.
The sound of conversation thinned, stretched, then faded entirely. The nobles who’d been laughing or whispering seconds ago went quiet, eyes snapping toward us. It wasn’t just curiosity. It was the kind of silence that comes from instinct, the kind that says it’s better to stay quiet.
As we began to move toward the dance floor, couples already mid-dance hesitated. A count and his wife stopped mid-spin, bowing awkwardly before backing away. Others quickly followed, their jeweled shoes scraping against the marble as they retreated to the sides like obedient servants.
Within seconds, the entire center of the hall was empty.The lights seemed to dim, the music suddenly too delicate to fill the space between us and the crowd.
Every noble eye in Velkaris was on us.
Belle didn’t react. Her posture stayed straight, calm, untouchable. Like the world itself would rearrange rather than inconvenience her.
Me?
I noticed everything.
The flicker of admiration in the younger nobles’ eyes.The bitterness twisting on the lips of the older ones.The unmistakable envy that clung to the air like static.
Exactly as it should be.
I glanced at my reflection in the polished marble floor, a perfect match to the legend beside me, and let a slow, satisfied smile spread across my face.
This wasn’t just a dance.
It was a statement.
A performance of dominance so effortless it didn’t even need words.
Let them whisper. Let them stare.
Let them feel small.
Because right now, standing beside her, I didn’t want to think of anything except her.
---
Belle’s hand slipped into mine warm, steady, grounding.
Her lips quirked slightly. "Tell me, Sebastian," she said, tilting her head up toward me, "do you even know how to dance?"
I froze.
"...Define know."
Her smile widened just enough to make me nervous. "So that’s a no."
"Hey, I didn’t say that." I straightened, trying to salvage what little pride I had left. "I just... don’t usually waste my time doing things that don’t involve hitting people with swords."
She gave a soft laugh, low and musical. "Then consider this training."
Before I could reply, her hand pressed lightly against my shoulder, her other settling at my wrist.
"Just follow my lead," she whispered.
Easier said than done.
The music swelled, a waltz, fluid and deceptively simple. Belle moved first, graceful as drifting flame, and I... stumbled. My boot caught the edge of my own heel, and for a horrifying second I almost took both of us down.
Belle’s hand tightened on mine. "Relax, Sebastian."
"I am relaxed," I muttered through clenched teeth.
She arched a brow beneath the blindfold. "You sound like someone about to be executed."
That got a quiet laugh out of me, and somehow, that broke the stiffness in my shoulders. I tried again, matching her rhythm, counting her steps one, two, three, one, two, three—letting her guide me through the motions.
At first, I was clumsy. A beat late. Too rigid.But Belle never faltered. Her movements were liquid precision, each turn and glide pulling me along until I stopped thinking about where my feet were supposed to go.
And then, something clicked.
My body began to move on instinct, not imitation.Our steps aligned perfectly, each motion flowing into the next as if we’d practiced this a hundred times before.
The world around us blurred, the nobles, the lights, the murmurs, all fading into the rhythm of her pulse against my palm and the faint scent of lilac and steel that clung to her.
The music spun higher.
We turned, pivoted, and crossed the floor in perfect synchrony.Every movement felt alive like mana coursing through veins, like power made elegant.
Belle’s hair caught the chandelier light as we moved, a dark halo in motion. I caught myself staring, not at her rank, not at her legend, but at her. The person who made even stillness feel like movement.
Five minutes.
Five minutes that felt like an eternity and a heartbeat at once.
When the final note rang out, I realized I was smiling—genuinely, uncontrollably. My chest felt lighter than it had since I first woke up in this damned world.
It wasn’t victory or glory or power that I felt.
It was something simpler. Something dangerously close to peace.
The music faded into silence, the echo of the last note hanging in the air like the afterglow of magic.
Then—applause.
A wave of it crashed across the hall, nobles rising from their seats, hands clapping, voices spilling praise like confetti.
"How marvelous!""Such grace! Such harmony!""I haven’t seen a performance like that in years!"
Someone near the front dabbed his eyes with a handkerchief. "It reminded me of my late grandmother..."
I blinked.
What.
Did he just compare me to his dead grandmother?
My smile twitched. That bastard.
Belle, ever the composed one, gave a polite bow of her head, accepting the applause like a queen descending from her throne. I followed suit, trying not to visibly seethe at the world’s strangest compliment.
Then, above the noise, a deeper sound rang out, measured, commanding.
Clap.
Clap.
Clap.
The hall fell silent as the King himself rose from his throne.
Alios von Velkaris, tall, broad-shouldered, white hair streaked with authority, clapped his hands once more, the sound sharp and deliberate. The nobles instantly quieted, anticipation rippling through the air.
His expression was unreadable, regal and distant, but the weight of his gaze was enough to make the room straighten in unison.
"Now then," he said, his voice carrying easily across the hall, "since it seems my daughter’s celebration has turned... entertaining, perhaps we should address the matter that has captured everyone’s attention."
The murmurs started again, hushed and eager.
Belle’s smile didn’t waver.
And beside her, I straightened my coat, heartbeat steady, grin returning.
Showtime.