Chapter 86

When I stepped to the left, Tessarion—hands clasped behind his back—stepped left, blocking me.

I reflexively stepped back and tried to move right. His long leg stretched out, blocking me again.

If I went left, he pushed me back. If I went right, he let me move just one step.

Before I knew it, our steps lined up like a square dance.

When I glared, Tessarion shifted aside, grabbed my waist, and turned me. Over his shoulder, he glanced at me—it was another dance move.

“…?”

What was he doing?

I frowned. His cold face curved faintly—it was a smirk. He was teasing me. Nervously, I looked at the people lined up around us for the group dance. Everyone looked tense and flustered.

At that moment, the conductor raised and dropped his hand.

“Ah, wait.”

The band began playing loudly. A lively group dance tune filled the hall. Men and women in rows bowed. Tessarion also bowed politely with them.

Damn it! I had to dance again?!

Yes, the ball was supposed to start with the group dance… but my partner should have been the boar from the snowy mountains, not this gray bear! Tessarion ruined the numbers. Where was my partner?

“Eh?”

Behind me, Merrill stuck out his tongue, waving.

Goodbye, brother. Bye-bye. Adiós.

I’m leaving. Dance well, and let’s meet alive later.

“You little…!”

But I was already pushed forward into the line of ladies. Two women touched hands and stepped back. I panicked, missing a beat, then looked at my new partner—Tessarion. He pointed his finger at me.

He wanted me to dance the woman’s part?!

He clicked his tongue, giving me a pitiful look. I lined up quickly. The woman’s steps weren’t hard—they were basic.

With my right hand on my waist and my left hand lightly raised, I turned with Tessarion, then touched hands with another partner.

When I peeked to the side, I saw him holding a glowing feather in his hidden hand.

“…When did he pick that up?”

My back itched.

The young lady next to me couldn’t even meet Tessarion’s eyes. Blushing, she peeked at my wings. My partners kept brushing against my shoulders, sneakily touching the feathers.

Finally, one gave in to curiosity and stroked it. I flinched, lifting a wing. Behind me, a lady winked.

“Oh dear, sorry. My hand slipped.”

But as she turned away, she whispered to her partner, giggling: “It’s real? I thought it was illusion magic.”

I stiffened, glaring at the wings that hadn’t disappeared.

In this world, with so much beauty and illusion magic, of course they’d doubt. If I saw someone with wings, I’d assume the same.

“Ugh, did you just step on my foot on purpose?”

“Ah, sorry. Not intentional…”

“You keep looking away, so—ouch! Please dance properly!”

“Yes, yes…”

Some baron’s son? I didn’t care. I couldn’t even remember his face. My eyes kept chasing Tessarion.

Even while doing the simple square step, he looked elegant, confident.

Our eyes met briefly. He smiled, and the feather in his hand shimmered with light.

I thought blankly.

Was Beriette telling the truth?

Is this really the last round?

Do I really have to love that man to stop the regression?

But… if I don’t regress, will I just die in four years? Will I die forever? Or return to my original world? How could I know?

I didn’t. My head pounded, my stomach churned.

I glared up at the Goddess painted on the ceiling.

‘Goddess. Since when did handsome and perfect main characters start falling in love with men?’

Roy Dover wasn’t inhumanly handsome, or a global sports star, or a celebrity. So why were the main lead, the “heroine,” and even supporting characters all after me?

Maybe because of the Holy Sword? Maybe it wasn’t divine at all, but cursed—sealed because it was a monster.

If Tessarion looked at my wings and believed I loved him, then yes, the sword was a monster.

“Haa…”

I scowled at the stubborn wings.

My current partner, annoyed from me stepping on his feet, moved away. Soon the last partner stood before me.

A blond youth, about my age, stared at my wings with sparkling eyes. I repeated the same line I’d told the others:

“It’s not illusion magic. If it was, clothes wouldn’t tear. So don’t touch them.”

“Yes, I know.”

The soft voice, with a hint of laughter, sounded familiar. I looked up.

“…!”

I flinched back in shock.

It wasn’t the blond noble I greeted earlier. In the blink of an eye, a man with sleek red-brown hair neatly combed back stood holding my waist, matching my steps.

In this glittering hall full of magic effects, the one before me was real—not illusion. A magician hiding his true self with illusion stood in front of me.

“…Ha. You scared me. Now even you, Altair, are surprising me?”

His appearance wasn’t the shabby scholar I knew. He wasn’t the quiet, gentle professor in dusty robes. Without glasses, dressed finely, he looked completely different. His long, thin eyes slanted slightly down, small pupils making his expression sharp, almost eerie.

Altair’s brows furrowed. He looked around nervously, then smiled awkwardly.

“Seeing the situation… I thought you wouldn’t be able to answer today.”

His cheeks flushed as he glanced at me shyly.

“Roy. I finished the draft of the charm spell.”

His glowing eyes, his flushed cheeks—I couldn’t look at them. I lowered my gaze with a sigh.

“Yes. I read your letter. But…”

Even though it was a heavy task, Altair still came to the ball. He had interviewed high priests, traveled across the continent to Moren, and gathered surveys—just to create the charm spell.

I had made him wait since dawn, claiming I was too busy. That was a terrible insult. I should be bowing, apologizing, praising him endlessly. My throat closed.

I felt deeply sorry. And ashamed.

I thought the main lead and “princess” were supposed to fall in love at first sight.

But that wasn’t it.

The one who had to fall in love—was me.

The one chosen by the Holy Sword.