At the same time, Yelodia was crossing the drawing room, clutching an invitation from the Emperor. She moved so quickly that her chemise dress fluttered dramatically.

Edward, seated on the sofa, couldn’t help but worry she might trip and fall.

“Be careful. You might fall,” he cautioned.

“Baron, His Majesty has invited us to a royal ball!”

Edward paused for a moment, choosing his words carefully.

“Wasn’t that something we already expected?”

“But the date is so soon! There’s only a week left! You need to master at least three dances by then!”

Edward finally understood why Yelodia had rushed down from the third floor without taking a moment’s rest.

Taking a deep breath, Yelodia exhaled sharply and said, “Learning one dance every two days? Even if Battista Hera came back to life, it’d be impossible!”

Battista Hera was a legendary libertine said to have seduced ten women in a single day and mastered every dance known to man.

A libertine? Seriously?

It was a startling comparison to bring up in this context.

Come to think of it, hadn’t his fiancée once called him a philanderer? Realizing Yelodia’s opinion of him wasn’t particularly high, Edward chuckled wryly and spoke.

“I may not be Battista Hera, but I’ll do my best. Will you help me?”

“That would mean coming here every day for a week. Are you fine with that?”

“It’s no trouble. I’ve already postponed urgent matters until after the ball.”

“Oh…”

Yelodia finally realized that Edward had come to her with a plan in mind.

Since their engagement ceremony, the two of them had been allowed to meet freely without restrictions. The Duke of Xavier had granted his permission, which meant meetings at the Duke’s residence no longer required a chaperone or risked stern reprimands.

“With so little time, bringing in a dance instructor would be more efficient,” Yelodia suggested.

“I agree. It would be best to meet every afternoon for practice. What do you think?”

Yelodia’s expression clouded over. She felt the proposed practice time was woefully insufficient.

“How about visiting tomorrow morning instead?”

“Do you have no other plans?”

“I’m free. Father understands the urgency, and, more importantly, it’d be disastrous if you were to step on my feet at the ball.”

“…”

Edward nodded seriously, as though he could already envision the embarrassment.

“Then I’ll visit tomorrow morning,” he confirmed.

Thus, the two agreed to meet at the Duke’s annex with a dance instructor.

Yelodia’s instructor, Fore Martin, was a wiry man with sharp features and a correspondingly strict demeanor. While he had helped Yelodia develop enough skill not to lag behind others, she didn’t particularly enjoy his lessons.

“We’ll skip the finer details due to time constraints. I’ll demonstrate the dance with the lady, and you’ll follow along,” Fore explained.

“That works for me,” Edward replied, while Yelodia sighed inwardly.

The demonstration began. Fore counted the beat aloud and led Yelodia through the steps.

“Relax your body and move to the rhythm,” he instructed.

Yelodia, her face stiff with concentration, moved as directed.

When the dance ended, she heaved a sigh of relief, thankful she hadn’t made any major mistakes. However, Fore looked at her in exasperation.

“You’re barely at the level where you won’t be laughed at. There’s no time for self-satisfaction.”

“At least I won’t be laughed at,” Yelodia retorted shamelessly, prompting Edward to smile. Fore shook his head.

“I’ve already given up on you, my lady. Let’s leave it at that,” Fore said before turning to Edward.

“Can you follow along?” he asked.

“The rhythm is rather complex,” Edward admitted. It wasn’t surprising, given that the dance at their engagement ceremony had been a basic 3/4 time minuet.

The dance they had just performed was far more intricate.

“If you’ve danced a minuet, this shouldn’t be too difficult. Think of it as a variation in 3/8 time. Shall we start by having you both face each other?”

“Me again?” Yelodia exclaimed, startled as she looked at Fore.

“In my opinion, the lady still has a long way to go. This is an excellent opportunity to practice,” Fore said firmly.

“But…”

Yelodia hesitated, biting her lip. While she enjoyed being in the same space as Edward, the thought of dancing with him filled her with unease.

The pressure of staying perfectly in sync was exhausting, and the possibility of making mistakes weighed heavily on her.

Above all, Yelodia didn’t want to be a distraction to Edward, who had to learn the dance in just one week.

“Besides, won’t the two of you be dancing together at the ball? It’s much better to start practicing your coordination now,” Fore said.

“…Fine,” Yelodia replied reluctantly, stepping hesitantly in front of Edward.

Fore clapped his hands sharply to regain their focus.

“There’s no time for formalities. One hand on the lady’s waist, the other hand clasping hers. Let’s go.”

When Edward placed his hand on Yelodia’s waist, she instinctively gasped. As the distance between them narrowed, a chill ran through her entire body.

‘This is exactly why I wanted to keep some distance for a while.’

During the engagement ceremony, Yelodia hadn’t felt uncomfortable dancing with Edward. There had simply been too many other matters demanding her attention.

By the end of the ceremony, all her energy had been drained, and her last memory of the day was collapsing onto her bed in exhaustion.

But today was different. Now that they were officially engaged, she couldn’t help but notice how close her fiancée stood—so close she could feel his breath.

Edward, looking down at her with concern, asked, “Are you uncomfortable?”

“N-no, let’s just start,” Yelodia stammered, snapping back to attention and straightening her posture.

Fore, as sharp as ever, didn’t miss a beat.

“No idle chatter. Baron, lead with your left foot. Lady, step back with your right. One, two, three—turn! Pay attention to each other’s movements!”

Fore’s instructions were as strict as ever, allowing no room for error. If anything, he seemed more rigorous than when Yelodia first started learning to dance.

It was only after repeating the first dance about eight times that Fore finally clapped his hands and called out, “Stop! Good. Let’s take a short break.”

“Huff, huff… What time is it?” Yelodia asked, catching her breath.

“A little past noon,” Fore replied.

Though it felt like they had barely practiced, two hours had flown by.

Fore, seemingly satisfied, turned to Edward and offered unexpected praise.

“Baron, your skills are far better than I anticipated. With this sense of rhythm, you should be able to match the lady’s level within a week.”

“Really?” Yelodia exclaimed in surprise.

Fore nodded solemnly, though he let out a sigh shortly after.

“That being said, why are you so sloppy, my lady? It’s concerning how much your skills have regressed.”

“It’s not that bad! I was just a bit distracted. Besides, I’ve told you—I perform better under pressure.”

“No amount of pressure can make up for insufficient practice,” Fore retorted, launching into his usual sermon on the importance of training.

According to him, while natural talent mattered, effort always outpaced innate ability.

Yelodia, however, felt this was unfair. She had never been passionate enough about dancing to devote her life to it. Moreover, her performance today had been hampered by the sheer tension she felt every time her body came into contact with Edward’s.

In short, it was Edward’s fault.

“Just focus on the Baron. I’ll handle myself,” Yelodia said, deflecting.

“The Baron is doing quite well,” Fore replied curtly.

“That’s it?!”

Yelodia was stunned. Receiving praise from Fore within a single day felt as earth-shattering as a miracle.

“Hasn’t it taken you a year or two to say something nice to me?” she asked incredulously.

“Did I really?” Fore asked, sounding genuinely puzzled.

Yelodia pursed her lips, choosing not to respond.

Unbothered by his student’s distress, Fore now looked at Edward as though he had discovered a rare gem.

“If you hadn’t become an officer, you could have made a comfortable living as a professional dancer,” Fore remarked.

“…Thank you for the compliment,” Edward replied, hiding his discomfort as he noticed Yelodia’s pout deepening.

Edward glanced discreetly at Yelodia’s earlobes, now slightly flushed. He had learned that her earlobes turned red whenever she was upset or embarrassed.

“Are you sulking?” he asked gently.

“Sulking? No, not really. I just remembered when we first met. I thought you might’ve been a dancer,” she admitted.

“A dancer?” Edward blinked, genuinely surprised.

Flustered, Yelodia pressed her warm cheeks with her hands. “If not a dancer, then maybe a scholar. That’s what I thought.”

“Well… that’s an amusing assessment,” Edward said with a wry smile, offering his hand to her.

Yelodia hesitated before cautiously taking his hand, sneaking a glance at his face.

“You’re not upset, are you?” she asked tentatively.