Chapter 999

The second dance unfolded with far more freedom than the first.

Yuder moved with the music, caring little for anything else. Though his dancing wasn’t particularly refined, it hardly mattered—his partner was someone who could match his every step, no matter how he moved.

Unlike during the lancha, now their legs tangled, and there were moments when their faces came so close that their breaths brushed and tickled against each other's skin. Yuder found it pleasant. He leaned back into the hand supporting his back without hesitation, tilting his head. In the moment their eyes locked, his gaze captured an unexpected warmth and depth—like springwater glistening in sunlight—that left him feeling strangely full, a kind of satisfaction he rarely experienced.

Yuder opened his lips, speaking quietly enough that only Kishiar could hear.

“You may have already guessed, but you were the one who first taught me this.”

“...Yes. I thought so.”

Kishiar had noticed it long ago—how Yuder’s smallest movements, even during their very first dance rehearsal, resembled his own. Yuder himself hadn’t realized it at the time, but in hindsight, it was natural. After all, it had been Kishiar from his previous life who first taught him how to dance.

“I did learn the formal gestures and etiquette used when offering a dance... but I’d never once used them with anyone before.”

Kishiar’s ~Nоvеl𝕚ght~ expression changed for a moment.

Yuder gave a faint smile.

“So this... is the first time.”

He had once danced with Kachien, yes—but that had been for the sake of a quiet conversation, hidden from others. It hadn’t felt like this. He hadn’t used the formal etiquette then.

His previous life had been even bleaker than this one. There hadn’t even been someone like Kachien to use dancing as a means of connection.

He had been an Omega, treated as neither man nor woman, scorned for being a lowborn commoner, feared for rumors that he could—and did—kill people with terrifying strength when angered. Who would want to dance with a monster like that? Even if he had extended a hand, no one would have taken it.

There were times when he was required to participate in dances by Emperor Kachian’s order—group lancha sessions where he was paired at random—but those were brief, impersonal.

When the dance ended, he would immediately leave. No one ever offered him a dance, and he never returned the gesture.

Well, he thought, I did offer plenty of solos.

At official gatherings that required a partner, he often brought the deity’s envoy or Deputy Commander Ever, neither of whom danced. In time, once Yuder’s position solidified, the Emperor stopped caring whether he brought a partner at all.

The spot most familiar to him in those days was the one where he could protect Emperor Kachian from assassins—beneath the podium, in the shadows.

He never once wanted to join the dancing.

He had never, until today, formally asked someone to dance.

Until now.

“You were curious about who I’d choose for my second dance... because you were confident I’d dance the first with you.”

It was natural to assume the first dance would be with Kishiar, especially after he publicly declared Yuder his official partner. But the second... that was a different story.

“In truth, for me, there’s no difference between the first, second, or third.”

Yuder whispered, putting into words the most sincere truth he could offer.

“Unless something extraordinary happens... or even if it does... I don’t think I’ll ever extend my hand to anyone else the way I just did. That’s what I believe.”

For a moment, the hand on his waist tightened. So much so that Yuder’s muscles twitched with surprise.

But the grip loosened just as quickly, as if it had never been there.

Kishiar wasn’t the type to do anything unintentionally. The momentary loss of control was rare—and entirely genuine.

There was no longer any trace of a smile on Kishiar’s face.

“Was my question too frivolous for such a serious answer?”

“...No. Not at all.”

As Yuder tried to get a better look at him, Kishiar’s leg hooked around his ankle, pulling him in close again. Their shoulders brushed, and Kishiar leaned down, exhaling a warm, shaky breath.

“...What do I even do now.”

That breath carried an awkward tangle of emotions: surprise, embarrassment, joy, longing—an overwhelming mixture barely kept in check.

“If I were more composed, I’d have laughed and told you not to take my second-dance question seriously—it was half a joke. I’d have said it was an honor to be your first official dance partner.”

“...”

“But I can’t. I can’t say it like it means nothing. My head and my body feel completely disconnected. I used to think no one could outdo me in shameless confidence, but today I’m not even sure I can speak.”

Because the feelings he’d tried to suppress were becoming too much.

When he finally lifted his head again, his eyes were flushed with color. And though it wasn’t the right time or place, Yuder couldn’t help but recall how Kishiar looked in bed that night.

Kishiar closed his eyes for a moment, breathed deeply, and opened them again. It was enough to rein in the emotions on his face and return to his usual composure. But it was only a surface calm.

In the depths of those red eyes—what the world could not see—was a heat Yuder could feel, burning in silence.

“Can I ask just one thing?”

“Yes.”

“While we were dancing... did you enjoy it, even for a moment?”

That’s the question? Yuder thought.

He looked at the man who was still dancing with him and gave his reply.

“You’re asking a question that doesn’t even need an answer.”

“...”

“For the first time in my life, I enjoyed dancing.”

And with those words, Kishiar smiled—a smile unlike any he’d shown before. Brighter, fuller, and impossible to mistake.

—

The dance between Yuder Aile and Duke of Peleta, Kishiar la Orr—so far from fiery or dramatic—nonetheless stirred profound emotions in those watching.

The fact that so many more people joined the Abitan dance after their performance was proof enough.

Duke Mayra’s succession ceremony ended with a tone completely unlike those of the past—but in no way was it a bad thing.

However, for one person, the end of the party marked the beginning of a nightmare.

“Megdolgen Mizelskhan. You’ve got a lot of nerve—stealing an invitation and committing those disgusting acts. Who gave you that fake invitation?”

“I told you! I won it off someone at a gambling den! Whoever it was, what does it matter? If I had the invitation, I should’ve been allowed in! I even threw away all the stuff that was in my pocket!”

After the party ended, Megdolgen was dragged into a basement beneath the manor, bound and already under interrogation. Though terrified, he tried to keep a defiant face—especially in front of Kachien Bollenvalt, who watched silently from a distance.

“Stuff in your pocket? You make it sound like someone else put it there.”

“Seems you’re still not grasping the situation,” another voice cut in coldly. “House Hern kept exact records of where every invitation for this succession was sent. The one you brought doesn’t exist—it was never printed by House Hern. And yet... the paper, the handwriting, everything is perfectly replicated. Now, how did you get your hands on that?”

“...What?”

“If you don’t give a proper answer, you might not live to regret it.”

“W-wait. What did you say?”

Megdolgen may have been slow, but he wasn’t stupid. He understood now that his life was at stake.

“I-I swear it’s the truth! I really won it in a card game! There was this fifth son from Baron Vireun’s house... or was it some guy from Aeyar? I—I don’t remember! I beat him, and—!”

“...”

“He says he was too drunk to remember... but we've confirmed that none of the people he mentioned were even there that night,” Kanna said flatly, standing beside Kachien with a blank expression. “There’s clearly some external force at play.”