"Are you not surprised?" Cecilia asked as we moved across the floor, the grand hall's lights casting a soft glow over us.
"No," I said simply, leading her in a smooth turn.
She had chosen , as I knew she would. It was obvious, really.
Cecilia studied , her crimson eyes gleaming with mischief. "Your acting is really good, you know," she mused. "If I wasn't as good at reading people as I am, I'd never be able to tell what's really going on in that head of yours."
I twirled her, the hem of her gown sweeping the polished floor like a crimson wave. Her smile never faltered.
When I first arrived in this world, I had been careful with Cecilia. Not because she was an enemy—no, she was always ant to be a major character on the side of good—but because of how she operated.
Cecilia Slatemark crushed people. Not out of malice, but because it was fun for her. She enjoyed the ga, the power, the way people struggled under her influence. She was a princess, after all. That ant she had the leverage to get whatever she wanted, and most people never dared to defy her.
And if they did?
She crushed them harder.
Back then, I couldn't afford to stand against her outright. Intelligence and knowledge ant nothing in the face of sheer, overwhelming power. Knowing the future only got you so far when soone like Cecilia could dictate yours with a single command.
So I played along. I manoeuvred carefully, dodging her traps, using Rachel whenever possible to keep myself from being cornered. I played into her whims just enough to stay afloat, but never enough to drown.
But now?
Now, I didn't need to do that.
I led her into a sweeping dip, her blonde hair cascading down, her teasing smirk never wavering.
"I want your eyes only on , Arthur," she whispered, the weight of her words pressing into the space between us. "Not just for tonight, but always. Look at , only ."
She pulled herself closer, her breath warm against my neck.
"Forget the rest of the world," she murmured, her voice barely louder than the whisper of music weaving through the air. "Just this once."
And for a mont, I did.
The weight of expectation, of battle, of everything beyond this dimly lit ballroom—none of it mattered. Not when Cecilia stood so close, the scent of sothing soft and elusive lingering in the space between us. Not when her hand rested lightly against mine, her fingers cool, yet firm, as if holding onto sothing fragile.
I didn't resist. There was no need to.
Because in the end, Cecilia had never tried to hurt .
Thus, this—whatever this was—was okay.
Her eyes glead with sothing unreadable, sothing almost hesitant, yet she smiled. Not the teasing smirk she always wore when she toyed with others, nor the sharp glint of mischief she so often directed at . This smile was quieter, sothing softer beneath the layers of arrogance and power.
"Arthur," she said, voice steady despite the way her grip tightened, "I'm glad you're coming to the Tower of Magic."
A pause.
"I… want to spend ti with you."
It was strange, how easily she could unsettle —not with her usual antics, but with sincerity.
I exhaled, letting my hand settle properly against hers. "I thought you were the one always running off and doing your own thing."
"That's different." She tilted her head, a lock of golden hair slipping over her shoulder as we moved together in a slow turn. "That's for fun. This is…" She hesitated. "This is sothing I actually want."
The music swelled around us, each note asured and deliberate, echoing the unspoken tension in the space between us.
We moved in sync, her leading sotis, leading others, but neither ever truly taking control. It was like a negotiation in motion, each step testing the limits of the other, seeing how much the other would yield.
For all her wit and charm, Cecilia was a warrior in spirit. A scher. A tactician. She didn't submit, not truly.
And yet, she trusted enough to match my pace.
I let my grip on her waist tighten just slightly, guiding her through a turn. Her breath hitched almost imperceptibly before she caught herself, her smirk returning in full force.
"I see you've been practicing," she mused, twirling back into my arms with a grace that made it look effortless. "Trying to impress soone?"
"Just keeping up with you," I replied evenly.
"You flatter , Arthur," she purred, but there was an edge of real amusent in her tone.
The song reached its final asures, the last few notes lingering as I slowed our movents. Her fingers curled slightly against my palm, lingering in the mont as the last echoes of the music faded into silence.
The world settled around us again, heavier than before.
Cecilia sighed, her gaze flickering downward for the briefest mont before she t my eyes again.
"I ant what I said," she murmured, her voice losing its teasing lilt. "I'll never hurt you, Arthur."
I blinked. "I know that."
"No," she said firmly. "Not just that. I won't let anyone else hurt you, either."
Sothing flickered across her expression, sothing dangerous and unwavering.
"If they try," she said, voice dropping to sothing softer, darker, "I'll crush them."
I stared at her for a long mont, unsure whether to take her words as a joke or a declaration.
But when I looked into her eyes, I realized—she wasn't joking.
Cecilia twirled out of my grasp, her scarlet dress catching the light in a shimr of silk and magic. The mont she released my hands, I let out a breath I hadn't realized I'd been holding. Dancing with Cecilia was like balancing on the edge of a blade—thrilling, dangerous, and requiring absolute focus.
I watched as she sauntered off with a smirk, eyes gleaming with sothing between amusent and satisfaction. It was hard to tell if she'd been enjoying herself or simply enjoying my discomfort. Maybe both.
'She's terrifying,' I thought, rolling my shoulders to shake off the tension. 'But… it's nice to have her at my side.'
The music shifted, flowing into a softer lody, and before I could even take another breath, a warm, delicate hand slid into mine.
Rachel.
She looked radiant under the festival lights, her golden hair woven into an intricate braid, sapphire eyes shimring with sothing I couldn't quite na. Unlike Cecilia, who danced as if she were leading a battle campaign, Rachel moved with effortless grace, a natural rhythm that made feel like I belonged in the mont rather than fighting to keep up.
"You seem relieved," she teased, her lips curling into a playful smile.
"Dancing with Cecilia is like trying to navigate a battlefield," I admitted, letting her guide through the first steps.
Rachel laughed, the sound light and lodic. "She is a battlefield, you an."
I huffed a quiet chuckle, letting her spin under my arm before catching her waist again. "You're a much better partner."
"Oh?" She raised a brow. "You an I don't make you feel like you're about to die?"
"That too."
She laughed again, but this ti there was sothing softer beneath it, sothing warm. We moved together, the dance easy, effortless—like breathing.
I caught the way her gaze flickered across my face, like she wanted to say sothing but thought better of it. Instead, she just held on a little tighter as the music slowed, the last few steps dragging out longer than necessary.
"Thank you for this," she whispered.
And then, just like that, the song ended, and she stepped away.
I barely had ti to process the shift before another hand reached for mine, smaller, cooler—like a whisper of frost against my skin.
Seraphina.
She looked up at , expression unreadable as always, but there was a quiet softness to her silver eyes, sothing calr than the usual stoicism she carried. Her dress was a shade of blue so pale it was almost white, flowing like mist with every movent.
"You don't like crowds," I murmured as I took her hand.
"No," she admitted, allowing to lead. "But I don't dislike this."
That was as close to a complint as I'd ever get from Seraphina.
She moved with precision, each step calculated and controlled, as if she were performing a sword form rather than a dance. There was an elegance to it, an underlying strength hidden in the fluidity of her movents.
"You're tense," I noted, guiding her through a slow turn.
She blinked, looking almost startled before lowering her gaze. "I… don't do this often."
"Dancing?"
"Being close to people."
I didn't press her on it. Instead, I just adjusted our pace, making it easier for her to follow, letting her settle into the rhythm at her own pace.
After a few monts, she exhaled, the tension in her shoulders easing. And for the first ti that night, she moved with instead of rely beside .
The song ended, and she hesitated for just a second before stepping away. "Thank you," she murmured.
I gave her a small nod, watching as she retreated into the crowd.
One left.
I turned just in ti for Rose to step forward, her usual gentle smile in place. Unlike the others, she didn't wait for to extend a hand—she simply took it, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
"You look exhausted," she said, eyes twinkling with amusent.
"Cecilia happened," I sighed.
"That explains it."
Rose's dance was different from all the others. She didn't move with the precision of Seraphina or the confidence of Rachel. She simply flowed, like a quiet river, moving to the music in a way that felt entirely effortless.
"You're good at this," I noted.
"Mm. I grew up in a noble house, rember?" She smiled, though there was sothing distant in her eyes. "Lots of banquets. Lots of dancing. It's expected."
The way she said it—like it was more obligation than enjoynt—made frown slightly.
"Do you like it?"
She blinked, surprised by the question, then let out a soft chuckle. "With the right person, maybe."
I didn't know what to say to that. So I didn't say anything at all.
We just moved together, the dance slow and steady, a quiet rhythm that didn't demand anything beyond the mont itself.
And then the music stopped.
Rose stepped back, looking at for just a second longer than necessary before letting go.
"Thanks for the dance, Arthur."
And then, like the others, she was gone.
I exhaled.
The festival continued around , the energy of the crowd buzzing with celebration, but for a mont, I just stood there, feeling the warmth of the past dances lingering like echoes.
This world, this life—it wasn't what I had expected.
But maybe, just maybe, it was better.
Right, Emma?
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