Chapter 47
“Practice?”
You practiced…?
At my words, Arden nodded, looking a little embarrassed.
I widened my eyes and asked,
“Why did you practice by yourself?”
“Huh?”
“If you were going to practice, we should’ve done it together. Why did you sneak off and practice alone?”
Didn’t we agree that neither of us knew how to dance? And now you show up having practiced by yourself so you can dance just fine while I flail around?
“Wow. I can practice too, you know. So you practiced alone, Arden.”
“……”
“That’s really underhanded.”
I’m hurt. I grabbed the hand Arden had offered and used it to wipe my tears.
“Senpai, that’s—”
“No excuses.”
“……”
“I’m really sad, so can I wipe my tears with your hand?”
“……”
“Tears… and snot too… sniff!”
Shivering dramatically like a block of tofu shaking, I dabbed under my eyes with the back of Arden’s hand. My cheek brushed against his knuckles, and I couldn’t stop the grin creeping up.
“Senpai!”
Only then did Arden realize I was teasing him and protested.
“Ah, seriously!”
“Sorry, sorry.”
Still, it is true that I can’t dance.
“So since you practiced, you’re going to teach me?”
Giggling, I took both of Arden’s hands.
He’d been frowning, but when he saw me smiling, he muttered something and shut his mouth.
Like everyone else, I placed my hand on Arden’s shoulder.
‘Is his germophobia going to be okay?’
Only then did it hit me—Arden, who hates being touched, had asked me to dance first, and was even holding my bare hand.
‘Well… he’s not telling me to let go, so it must be fine.’
Arden’s bare hand, which I was holding for the first time, was large enough to envelop mine completely. True to his tidy nature, it was cool and dry, the inside of his palm hardened with calluses.
And it was trembling slightly.
His face was as cool as ever, but his hand was shaking like crazy.
“You’re not shaking because you hate holding my hand, right?”
“I can’t even tell I’m holding it. Your hand’s too small.”
“I might not remember washing my hands after going to the bathroom.”
“Liar!”
“Heh heh heh.”
“…Really?”
Even as he kept asking “Really? Really?” over and over, he never pulled his hand away as we stepped onto the dance floor.
The very center—the spotlight spot—was empty.
But we…
“Should we stand at the edge?”
“Yes. The very corner.”
“Good idea.”
Perfect agreement. We settled near a pillar, out of the way.
“Shall we?”
After glaring fiercely at a young couple already there and sending them off to the center, Arden swallowed visibly.
Then he placed a hand at my waist.
It was so light that I could barely feel it—more like a feather than an embrace.
Arden’s shoe brushed the hem of my dress.
Lowering his head, he whispered,
“When the music starts—”
“Yeah?”
“Turn to the right.”
“Spin around?”
“Yes.”
“And then?”
“That’s it.”
“Oh.”
Did you really practice? I didn’t even have time to check before the music began.
And the moment it did, I realized:
‘He totally didn’t practice!’
While everyone else stepped closer and farther apart in rhythm, we were the only ones just spinning in place like idiots.
I accidentally made eye contact with a flustered neighboring couple.
“You didn’t practice, did you?”
When I protested, Arden replied shamelessly,
“How exactly was I supposed to practice this dance? It requires being this close to another person.”
“Oh, come on.”
Then why lie?!
“It’s fine. They’ll just think we’re a pair of people who can’t dance.”
“That’s ridiculous.”
Suddenly, the whole situation struck me as funny.
Here I was—a complete commoner—at an imperial ball I’d never even dreamed of attending, dancing in a shimmering silver dress.
In stories like this, the partner is usually the crown prince.
But mine was Arden.
A germaphobe, two years younger than me, nearly bankrupt from buying handkerchiefs.
My strange junior.
And that wasn’t all.
My life had changed so much lately.
Ordinary old me had become a holy maiden of magic, running across moonlit rooftops at night. Helping people. Seeing their grateful smiles.
Swinging a toy hammer and casting spells alongside a dog that insists it’s a divine beast.
Even if only three times a day.
“You really do live long enough to see anything,” I murmured to myself.
Apparently Arden heard me. He shook his head.
“You’re not ordinary.”
When I looked up, his face was right in front of mine.
His hand tightened around mine.
“There’s only one person in the world who thinks like you and acts like you.”
“……”
“That’s why you’re absolutely not ordinary. At least, not to me.”
For a moment, Arden looked unbelievably handsome.
I mean, I knew he was good-looking—but right then he seemed to be glowing like a star.
And it felt like that star was crashing straight into me.
My reply came a beat late.
“Tha—thanks…”
“And,” he added.
“Hm?”
“You’re probably the only person who’s stepped on their partner’s foot twenty-nine times in a single song.”
“Oh.”
“A remarkable achievement.”
“I’m sorry……”
You’ll have to scrub your shoes clean after this.
“Take this!”
If I’ve already stepped on them twenty-nine times, might as well make it thirty!
Arden noticed my intent instantly and slipped his foot away.
I aimed. He dodged. I aimed again. He dodged again.
We were so focused on that game that we didn’t even realize the music had ended.
“You’re really good at avoiding it!”
“Because I practiced.”
“Liar!”
“This time, I’m serious.”
It was childish—but fun. We were grinning like idiots when—
The room suddenly felt quiet.
I looked up.
Everyone was staring at us.
The dancing couples. The people chatting on the sidelines. The musicians. The attendants.
A group of elderly ladies in the distance caught my eye and grinned knowingly.
“Such a lovely age.”
“A lovely time indeed.”
“It really is.”
“My husband and I were just like that forty years ago. Ho ho ho.”
Eek!
I jumped away from Arden.
The problem was—
We missed the timing to let go of each other’s hands.
Our bodies separated, but our hands were still tightly clasped.
Why won’t this come apart?!
“Sh-should we… let go?”
“Y-yes… that would be…”
We were both flustered, faces burning red.
“…Why aren’t you letting go?”
“What about you?”
“It’s just—!”
I couldn’t remember how to let go of a hand!
Do you lift the fingers? One by one? Thumb first? Index finger?
No—!
“Should we let go on three?”
“Okay.”
“O-one…”
“Two…”
“…Three.”
Snap!
We recoiled like we’d been burned, immediately clutching our hands to our chests.
“I—I need water!”
“Yes! Hydration is important!”
“Right, right!”
“In a clean cup!”
“Let’s go!”
Bumping shoulders, we fled the dance floor like fugitives.
I gulped down the ice water an attendant handed me—who looked like they were holding back laughter—and scolded myself.
‘Get it together. Why is your heart racing?’
Stop it. Right now.
‘It’s because Arden is too handsome.’
And because the palace is too beautiful.
The ceilings are three times taller than my house, everything gleams gold, the air is warm despite the open windows…
And the scent of strawberry champagne is way too sweet.
That’s why.
Pull yourself together.
I handed the half-finished glass to Arden, trying to act calm. Like a proper senior.
“Arden, you should drink some too—”
That was when—
“This is bad!”
A trainee knight of the Imperial Guard burst into the hall, shouting.
“There’s a fire!”
