Chapter 121

Emily stood up from her chair.

“My lady. Watch closely.”

“Yes!”

“And when I say ‘Begin!’—would you clap for me on every beat? One clap per second?”

“Yes! I’ve got it! Begin!”

With the first clap, Emily began to move—fluid limbs swaying into a dance. She kept pace with my rhythm, calling out a low, rhythmic chant.

“Toon-toon.”

To the steady beat of my clapping, Emily performed something extraordinary: a dance that seemed to blend the flowing movements of a traditional fan dance with the sinuous undulations of a snake charmer’s art.

“Toon-toon.”

Woven throughout were sharp, precise joint movements—angular isolations that appeared at just the right moments.

It was fluid like water. It had clarity and intention. And it had a strangely hypnotic quality—the kind that made you unable to stop watching.

Magnetism. Stage presence. The complete package.

I stared, completely transfixed, and kept clapping. Something in my chest swelled—warm, buoyant, moved.

Emily made one slow, perfect rotation in place—and finished by pressing the tip of her index finger to her right cheek.

Am I not lovely?

That was the posture. That was the expression.

“There. It’s finished.”

I clapped enthusiastically, eyes shining.

“…Wow! Emily! What was that? You can really dance!”

“That is the Courtship Dance.”

“The Courtship Dance?!”

Emily sat back in her chair with perfect composure, as though she had not just been dancing. Then she explained the nature of what she had just performed.

“Yes. It’s a dance based on the movements male peacocks use to court females. Apparently it’s quite fashionable in the western continent at the moment.”

“Oh! A peacock! How fascinating—my husband is a duke, and the word for duke is written like peacock!”

“Quite. That’s what made it feel particularly promising.”

“Is the effect really guaranteed?”

“Enormously so. There’s even a legend that dancing this for the object of your unrequited love will completely bewitch them.”

“That’s extraordinary!”

I could barely contain myself.

“Reportedly, it’s powerful enough to reclaim a love that has already walked away. Performing it for an ex-lover is said to guarantee reunion—a hundred percent of the time.”

“Good heavens.”

“There’s a society among the imperial servants’ community—a group dedicated to hoping for reunion with former sweethearts. Every single member performed this dance and was reunited with their ex.”

“That’s incredible! Remarkable!”

“I know. I had my doubts as well, but there are quite a few living testimonials.”

“This is it! This is the one! I’m starting practice right now!”

I slammed the table with the flat of my hand, cheeks quivering.

“My lady—this dance is surprisingly difficult, though. It uses quite a lot of specific muscles. It took even me three months to learn.”

“Of course I can learn it! I was the lead dancer of Class One at my elementary academy!”

“Ah—that’s right, you were. Then you should pick it up quickly.”

I sprang to my feet and took the starting position.

The opening pose: cover your face with both palms, then release them in a sweeping wing-like motion—hands flowing in undulating waves.

“Emily. Is this right?”

“No—not like that. Like this—wave-like. Imagine your hands are riding ocean waves.”

“Oh! Like this?”

“Perfect.”

I learned each movement step by step, in careful sequence.

And then came the finale. The spin, and the cheek-poke.

The part where you drew a circle in place was the trickiest. Like ballet, it required pressing the tip of the shoe precisely to the floor and completing the rotation without losing composure.

I stumbled through several attempts. On approximately the fifteenth try—

“Spin, and—poke!”

“My lady. That was perfect just now.”

Emily’s approval.

“Wow! That’s surprisingly difficult. But a little more practice and I think I’ve got it?”

“A week should be enough.”

“Oh! Really, that little?”

“Actually—let’s say ten days. Let’s aim for the level where you can do it with your eyes closed.”

“Yes! Excellent! I’m confident!”

I drilled the Courtship Dance that Emily had taught me with fierce dedication.

Two to three hours a day—during Kai’s afternoon naps, and during the time spent waiting for my husband to come home—a slot I had no choice but to observe, since he became disgruntled if I wasn’t waiting in the bedroom when he returned.

And ten days later:

“You know, Emily—I really can’t do this with my eyes open.”

“Why not?”

“It feels like someone’s watching and judging, and when our eyes meet I keep getting distracted and losing my concentration.”

“Ah. That’s entirely understandable. The master does have a rather piercing gaze. My lady—what if you tried dancing with your eyes closed?”

“With my eyes closed?”

“Yes. You’ve practiced to the point where you could do it in your sleep anyway.”

A reasonable solution.

“Should I~? That actually is a wonderful idea! But it won’t reduce the effect, will it?”

“Not at all. The Courtship Dance is fundamentally about showing artistic expression through movement—inner vitality, strength, and physical wellness. The eyes have nothing to do with it.”

“Oh!”

“Dancing it well with your eyes closed would, if anything, make you appear even more formidable.”

“Wonderful! Today’s final practice will be eyes-closed!”

The last practice was a triumph.

Not a single stumble. Every movement flowed—seamless, natural, perfect.

“Yes! Emily! I’m going to go bewitch my husband right now! I am today the most magnificent male peacock in the world!”

“Go get him, my lady.”

I sprinted to my husband’s study.

Huu. Deep breath.

I gripped the door handle.

I am today the most magnificent male peacock in the world!

Three. Two. One.

Bang!

My husband was facing away from me, gazing out the window. He was leaning deep into the chair back, watching the view quietly—looking rather tired, and a little bored.

Perfect. May this moment serve as both a healing respite for my husband and the moment he is thoroughly bewitched by me!

“Ta-da! Darling! Ivelina’s here!”

The chair gave a loud lurch, followed by a muffled cough.

Papers scattered and rustled in all directions.

Heheh! My sudden entrance must have startled him!

“…Ngk.”

“Shh! Pay close attention from now!”

I squeezed my eyes firmly shut and took the starting position.

Both palms spread across my face—then, in a sweeping wing-like release, I let my hands flow into undulating waves.

“Toon-toon, toon-toon!”

I didn’t forget the chant.

Emily had emphasized it as essential for maintaining the rhythm.

Mid-movement, I added the sharp, deliberate joint isolations.

“Toon-toon, toon-toon!”

I thought: my hands are riding ocean waves. I flowed, soft and continuous, through the interweaving of the fan dance and the snake charmer’s art.

Ten days of practice meant my body moved on its own now.

Every muscle remembered.

“Toon-toon, toon-toon!”

The final movement.

I pressed the tip of my shoe to the floor and drew a perfect circle. Not a wobble. Not a stumble.

And then—the finishing touch. I pressed my fingertip to my cheek.

Am I not lovely?

The face. The posture. Everything.

Oh—it’s over!

I was suddenly, terribly self-conscious. My face went hot.

I kept my eyes squeezed shut and fanned myself rapidly.

“Oh, how embarrassing!”

Embarrassing—so I needed to get out of here immediately!

I covered my burning face with both palms and turned on my heel.

Thud.

“Eik! Ow…”

I walked directly into a hard, large wall.

The wall smelled like my husband. Why was there a wall here, in this completely random spot—?

I pressed one eye open through my fingers.

…?

And froze.