Chapter 13
“Isn’t that over there Duke Valheim……?”
Only then did the dancers discover Lionel, and their laughter abruptly stopped.
The air instantly turned cold.
Those who raised their heads in surprise stood up one by one.
All with faces that had turned pale blue without exception.
The dancers were at a loss, having been caught badmouthing his fiancée to Lionel.
“Ah, th-this is, I mean, Your Grace. It’s a misunderstanding.”
The dancers mumbled with trembling lips. However, their words scattered messily at the end, unable even to finish their excuses.
What exactly is the misunderstanding.
Lionel silently moved his steps slowly.
Each time the matte military boots stepped on the marble floor, the friction sound from the boot soles rang out sharply like a blade.
The dancers were now barely able to breathe.
Lionel, who in an instant filled the lounge with intimidation, leaned back on the sofa as if tossing his body.
His long stretched fingers picked up the whiskey bottle on the table and filled a glass.
“I was getting bored with the banquet anyway. If there’s an interesting story, I’d like to hear it too.”
The dancers exchanged glances as if flustered.
They seemed unsure if it was really okay to speak.
Then, when Lionel smoothly raised the corner of his mouth, everyone blankly opened their mouths.
It felt as if the temperature in the room changed with just one smile.
Saying he was handsome was not enough.
Sharp jawline, deeply set eyes.
His gaze, relaxed yet dangerously sunken, was like a fresh shock.
It was an impression rare among the capital’s nobles.
The dancers each blushed at the sturdiness that could not be felt from the delicate young lords.
As if enchanted, they began to open their mouths one by one.
As if they had ever been consumed by fear.
“As Your Grace knows, Miss Agnes is quite famous these days.”
Soon after, another dancer spoke up.
“That’s right. We, we heard it too. Someone directly saw her trying to lobby the director of the Royal Ballet Troupe, they say?”
“It happens often. People who lack skill try to enter the Royal Ballet Troupe through improper means. Miss Agnes is that type too.”
Words that started timidly gradually gained flesh.
Since Lionel did not particularly restrain them, they assumed he was also agreeing with the gossip about Agnes.
The dancers, intoxicated with excitement, gained confidence.
Then they even brought up Agnes’s background.
“There was talk that her biological mother was of gypsy origin. Maybe that’s why she dances somewhat. But the level is obvious anyway.”
At that moment, the ice in the whiskey glass held in Lionel’s hand cracked with a clink and shattered.
Lionel, staring at the cracked ice, slowly tilted the glass.
“Is Agnes Bardo’s dance that bad?”
At the direct question, the dancers flinched and held their breath.
The answer came from an unexpected place.
From the principal dancer, Floris, who had been arrogantly fluttering her fan the whole time while others added their words.
“In fact, Miss Agnes’s dance is…… closer to seduction than art…… ah.”
Floris covered her mouth with an expression as if she had made a mistake.
The exaggerated gesture like in a play was quite a sight.
“Ah, was this too harsh?”
“Why. Go on. I’m curious.”
Floris narrowed her eyes and drew a soft smile.
“But any dancer who received formal education would know. Miss Agnes’s dance…… lacks foundation. Probably because her origins are humble…….”
Pretending to be troubled while trembling the corner of her eyes, Floris soon pronounced each word clearly.
Especially emphasizing the word ‘humble’ with force. To highlight Agnes’s origins.
Pretending to care for others, pretending to have no bad intentions herself. Skillfully speaking indirectly while belittling the opponent was Floris’s unique speech habit.
Floris, continuing her words as usual, suddenly felt Lionel’s gaze strangely sink.
As if trying to dispel the unpleasant atmosphere, Floris smiled slyly.
Then she skillfully changed the topic.
“By the way, I didn’t know Your Grace was interested in dance.”
Lionel laughed briefly.
It was dry. A habitual laugh without any response or emotion mixed in.
At that subtle reaction, Floris cautiously took one step closer.
Sticking close to Lionel’s side, she subtly began to lean her body against his arm.
“Since you’ve been on the battlefield all this time, you must have had difficulty accessing proper performances.”
Floris lowered the corner of her eyes as if regretting.
“But to return and the first stage you see is like today…… such a crude stage. It upsets me.”
“Originally, today’s lead was supposed to be you. Why didn’t you go on stage?”
“Well……. I wasn’t feeling well.”
Floris swept her forehead. Elegantly like a swan.
Lionel crossed his legs crookedly.
“You don’t look particularly sick.”
Floris’s eye corners instantly shot up.
However, hiding her embarrassment, Floris turned the words again.
“Ah, ahaha. By the way, if you like dance, shall I show you my dance?”
It will be far more beautiful than the dance of the Bardo illegitimate child.
Whispering that, her lips slowly approached him.
Lionel did not avoid it.
The calm space began to fill with precarious tension.
Principal dancer. Floris Loren.
She prided herself. Not only young and beautiful, but possessing dazzling talent more than anyone.
How many men had fallen head over heels for this kind of approach.
Even the great Marquis Guten’s young marquis, and Viscount Laden too.
All the young lords of the capital cherished the principal dancer of this Royal Ballet Troupe in their hearts.
Moreover, to the extent that everyone rushed to offer sponsorship.
Thanks to that, she had easily risen to this position.
Lionel too, she asserted, was just another young lord no different from them.
Thus, her actions became a bit bolder.
Without knowing how foolish that action was.
“It won’t even compare to Agnes Bardo.”
Floris whispered seductively, subtly placing her white hand on Lionel’s chest.
Softly pressing the spot where the heart beats. As if hoping for the tremor to be transmitted.
Lionel only slightly twitched his eyebrow.
Floris took that as positive.
Her red lips slowly approached Lionel’s face.
“I’ll dance a dance just for Your Grace.”
With the whisper, the two faces overlapped.
Lionel still did not avoid it.
Not avoiding alone could give the opponent sufficient delusion.
A silent thick atmosphere flowed in the lounge. In the thickened air, the dancers held their breath.
Soon, the distance close enough for lips to touch. It was that moment.
What Lionel murmured in a gloomy voice was.
“For mocking and insulting my prospective duchess, you all seem to be enjoying it too much.”
That voice was low and cold.
But the anger contained within was sharp like ice.
Floris opened her eyes wide as if surprised.
Lionel looked at her without a smile or warmth, as if viewing something worse than trash in a back alley pile.
“At least compared to you who sticks your mouth in first, Agnes Bardo’s dance seemed far more elegant.”
The lounge froze in an instant.
It was treatment she had never received before.
Floris’s face flushed red with humiliation, then turned pale with fear.
The expression changing every moment was quite entertaining to watch.
Lionel, leaning leisurely against the backrest, expressionlessly raised his hand.
Then mercilessly pushed away the back of Floris’s hand.
Thud, her hand fell from his chest.
“Here or there. Why are there so many who recklessly wag their tongues.”
Lionel lightly sighed.
The atmosphere in the room coldly cooled down.
“Y-Your Grace……?”
“You’re lucky, all of you.”
“Lucky, what do you mean by that……?”
“On the battlefield, I’ve seen countless bastards whose necks were cut for light speech habits.”
You should be thankful this isn’t a battlefield—, he murmured softly. Then Lionel took off his jacket.
“And shall I give one piece of advice.”
Half a beat slower, the jacket slipped from his hand.
“It would be good to fix that habit of touching anything.”
Clang-!
With an intimidating metallic sound, the jacket that Floris’s hand had touched was shoved into the metal trash bin.
“I’m in a very bad mood.”
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