Chapter 66 : Pasodoble

“King Contrat is entering! Glory to the noble bloodline!”

As the last to make his entrance, Contrat did so in grand fashion, naturally. Dressed in extravagant attire, holding a staff studded with sparkling jewels, he radiated an imposing presence. The queen who appeared alongside him was equally splendid.

“Waaah!”

“Long live Contrat!”

The aristocrats’ cheers were especially enthusiastic.

Some welcomed him with genuine warmth, while others involuntarily tightened their jaws and swallowed hard.

The undisputed number one and supreme ruler of Arian—

And the cold-blooded man who had severed seventeen noble throats in just two days.

“Haha, such a warm welcome, indeed.”

Amid this ambiguous mix of voluntary and involuntary applause, Contrat began his opening address.

“First—after a difficult period, I wish to express my gratitude to everyone who has come to Niran during this glorious time as we welcome spring once more. Our Arian dynasty is…”

He briefly recounted the history of the Arian dynasty, emphasizing the significance of the event multiple times.

“…Once again, I say, this ball and festival will truly mark a new chapter for Arian. It symbolizes a vow for peace, rest, and a hopeful future. Especially, this ball holds a special meaning—”

His words paused as he gestured to someone nearby. Of course, the summoned person had no idea this was coming.

“Hmm?”

“Please come quickly.”

When Glenn showed signs of confusion, Isabelle quickly nudged him forward.

“Our ally and blood-bound comrade! By now, everyone worth knowing must be aware of the Grand Prince of the Lepent Republic, Ron Glenn Lepent. He has shed so much blood for us during those hard days!”

“Waaah!”

“Long live the Lepent Republic!”

As soon as the words left her mouth, the prepared applause burst forth, likely orchestrated by the spies stationed there.

Meanwhile, Glenn frowned.

Blood-bound again, after all this time?

Previously, they spoke of coexistence, or alliances formed only out of necessity.

Damn sly foxes.

He had known their kind since his past life, but some audacity must have limits, right?

Amid his displeasure, his eyes suddenly met Isabelle’s uneasy gaze.

She frantically tapped her mouth with her hand.

There was no need to ask what she meant.

…Tch.

Glenn clicked his tongue silently and smiled. Only then did Isabelle let out a sigh.

“Phew…”

He was no fool. He knew well that showing displeasure here wouldn’t help at all.

From her side, the murmurs of the surrounding nobles reached their ears.

“Is the king truly sincere this time?”

“Going that far must mean something’s changed. It’s quite unusual for a Lepent noble to attend this country’s ball.”

“That may be, but still, those Lepent barbarians—”

“Shh, your voice is too loud.”

That was enough.

The impression that something was changing had been successfully planted.

A satisfied smile appeared on her lips.

***

At such an official ball, the last to enter is usually the king or emperor, or a noble of equivalent rank.

Once their first dance concludes, the ball officially begins.

So, after his opening speech, Contrat skillfully finished the first dance. He only danced the first part briefly before yielding the rest of the stage to his attendants.

“Haha, that’s just because I’m getting old. Besides, isn’t it far more graceful when young men and women dance instead?”

As he spoke, Isabelle and Britani exchanged sharp glances. It was as if sparks flew in the air.

Contrat, who had been watching closely, smirked.

The enmity between Isabelle and Britani?

Of course, he knew.

But he had no intention to stop them. On the contrary, he planned to encourage them, at least to some extent.

Because through this process, a stronger rival would emerge.

“Shall we go with ‘Waltz Menuet’ for the song?”

Isabelle’s choice was a fairly safe one for the waltz—a moderate difficulty and elegance—which was also considerate of Glenn.

But Britani had other ideas.

“No, Isabelle. How about a different piece this time?”

Her eyes narrowed slyly, and Isabelle frowned slightly.

What low trick was she planning now?

“…A different piece?”

“Hmm, how about ‘Pasodoble’? It suits special occasions well.”

Pasodoble.

A difficult dance requiring fast tempo, precise footwork, and dramatic poses. Without strong harmony between lead and follow or emphasis on key points, its charm is halved.

In other words, the same dance varies greatly depending on skill.

“That…”

“Oh, Prince, is that too difficult a request?”

Britani smiled bitterly at Glenn. The intention was too clear, and Isabelle felt a sting of irritation.

Glenn, however, showed no reaction.

“No. I used to enjoy it, so it’s no problem.”

His confidence wasn’t arrogance but rather indifferent, as if it were nothing.

Britani’s expression darkened.

“…You ‘enjoyed’ Pasodoble?”

“Yes. Is that a problem?”

“Hmm? Then this works out nicely.”

What nonsense.

Britani thought the spoiled Lepent brat was bluffing. It made sense from her perspective—but how much could a Lepent noble actually know about the dance?

Britani walked toward the orchestra to request the song.

Even now, Glenn showed no reaction, but Isabelle looked startled.

“Is that so?”

“…It’s a difficult dance. Have you learned it before?”

She too assumed Glenn was bluffing, half-joking.

Understandably so… A grand prince from Lepent dancing? That didn’t seem to fit at all.

“Don’t worry. I can lead well enough.”

“…Are you serious?”

Isabelle was now bewildered by his confident attitude.

He had pride, but he wasn’t the kind of man to bluff recklessly. At least, that was what she understood so far.

…Could it really be true?

“Of course. It’s one of my best skills. Besides, it’s not a dance led by women, is it?”

Glenn had once learned Pasodoble.

Not just learned—he had practiced it to exhaustion because it was popular in his previous life’s empire.

“Never thought that damned experience would come in handy here.”

Memories of life in the empire briefly surfaced.

Countless balls, and the dances he had to master to survive the most important ones. Pasodoble, which was especially popular then, was notoriously unforgiving.

Only after endless practical experience did it finally become second nature to him. Who would have thought that would help here too?

“…In that case—let me lead the role itself, and I’ll let you control the overall flow. Is that alright?”

In social dances, the lead and follow roles are usually distinct. But it’s not uncommon for the follow to adjust the flow, especially if the follow is as skilled as Isabelle.

“Sounds good.”

Glenn had no objections.

To be honest, he only learned enough not to embarrass himself in real situations. Nothing compared to Isabelle’s passionate, combat-like dedication.

“Don’t worry. I’ll guide you at a comfortable pace… can you trust me?”

“I always trust the princess.”

That laid-back attitude—it was impossible to read his thoughts. Somehow, it annoyed her.

“…You talk a good game. Fine.”

“Looking forward to it.”

His shamelessly confident smile softened some of Isabelle’s anxiety.

***

Boom—!

With a powerful rhythm, the atmosphere of the ballroom began to shift.

Anticipation, jealousy, cheers, envy, fascination, rivalry—

A mingling of emotions unfolded.

Isabelle quietly savored the mood.

The introduction was fairly long, so there was no need to rush preparation.

“Lady? Shall we dance?”

A teasing voice.

Looking up, Glenn smiled and extended his hand. Thankfully, he didn’t seem nervous.

…Is this really not a bluff?

Isabelle was conscious of the surrounding gazes.

So she put on a haughty expression and gracefully took his hand.

“With pleasure, gentleman.”

Dun-dun—dun-dun!

The intoxicating song began.

Facing each other, they sharply struck the floor with their feet. The distinctive Pasodoble opening move, like two swordsmen drawing their blades—the Appel (4061).

Isabelle immediately brightened her steps and led Glenn. Amid her skillful moves, her gaze remained fixed on him.

Three more steps, then a turn.

Everything went smoothly.

“Not bad?”

She looked relaxed from the start. She wasn’t struggling to remember steps or order at all.

“You’re skilled.”

“Of course.”

“…Hmm.”

Isabelle’s playful side surfaced as she subtly increased the tempo.

More dramatically, more challengingly.

“Keep going.”

But Glenn followed easily, as if he had been waiting for this moment all along.

Before long, Isabelle was fully immersed in the dance.

While dancing, she whispered quickly to Glenn.

“Left, straight Temple Line—is that possible?”

“By all means.”

On her request, Glenn straightened his body and pushed her forward.

“And now, Volta!”

A quick turn around each other.

Glenn’s shoulder brushed hers naturally as the music swelled again.

“One tempo late, shaping—and then Debray to the right.”

(Shaping: a graceful motion creating a posture line,

Debray: a turn step changing direction by opening or closing the body toward the partner.)

“…You ask a lot.”

Glenn chuckled softly at her complete immersion. Although Isabelle’s demands were immediate, they were all patterns he had encountered in his past life.

In other words, all manageable requests.

Their grand dance lines and quick directional changes flowed flawlessly.

The crystal chandeliers in the ballroom sparkled in time with their movements. Every step brushing the marble floor created flashes of light.

As the music intensified, their breathing matched the beat. The more the dance reached its climax, the hotter the atmosphere became.

“Lebreta—maximally intense.”

After a few more commands, the words stopped at some point.

No need to say more.

Is that what it means to communicate with just a look?

Isabelle gazed quietly at Glenn’s face, beginning to feel an unfamiliar emotion stir strongly.

“Hm?”

A rather strange feeling.

What was clear was that, looking into Glenn’s gem-like eyes, it was growing stronger.

It was as if—

“I want you…”

The words slipped out unconsciously.

Of course, her body was still dancing.

No—now that she was fully aware, the dance was nearly over.

“Princess?”

When Isabelle’s gaze momentarily blanked, Glenn chuckled.

“…Finish with an Appel.”

Snapping back to reality, Isabelle ordered without hesitation. Glenn nodded with a smile.

As they prepared for the finale, their clasped hands reluctantly separated.

Isabelle felt a sudden pang of regret.

So clear, so vivid, even to herself.

Tang.

Unlike those random thoughts, her body moved skillfully. As they stamped their feet simultaneously, the music stopped cleanly.

The ballroom was momentarily cloaked in silence before the cheers exploded.

“Waaaah!”

“Bravo!”

“Phew—this is quite challenging to follow.”

A soft laugh.

Despite the teasing tone, his face remained relaxed.

Isabelle stared at him blankly for a moment.

For some reason, she couldn’t hear the noise around her well.

…A strange phenomenon—or rather, an emotion.

“Princess? Are you alright?”

He approached, slightly concerned.

Isabelle quickly unfurled the veil draped over her belt to cover her face.

“Of course.”

Perhaps because her face had unwittingly flushed.

It was a feeling she had never experienced before.

A moment when she could clearly hear the pounding of her own heart.