Battlefield on the tablecloth (1)
It was the first week of December when the school break began. A flat-tone three-quarters dance song was flowing through the living room of the Asel mansion. Its sound quality was poor, and the playback time was short as the gramophone was a new bit of technology. Of course, it was enough for Kleio’s pathetic dance skills.
“Raise your heels! No! Lead! Don’t rely on me! Ah, really!”
“Ah!”
Kleio stepped on Dione’s feet for the fourth time today before pulling back and bowing apologetically.
“I’m sorry, Lady Dione…”
Dione slammed her feet, commanding Kleio to get back into position.
“It’s still not very good, so you have to master it by turn today. If you can’t, you’ll be staying up all night.”
“Why…”
“Otherwise, you’ll never be able to dance in a ballroom for the New Year’s party! All Lundane has come to know you as my disciple, and I can’t tolerate being embarrassed!”
Already, invitations for New Year’s banquet began to pile up in the Asel mansion. Although Kleio was reluctant to socialize at all, he had to attend a banquet held by the Monk Merchant Association and a charity banquet hosted by the Defense Force to obtain information about the nobles and royalty.
‘If I knew it would be like this as soon as I told Dione, I would’ve just gone without consulting her…’
His regret was already too late. Behemoth spread out in the front of the fireplace and, yawning, looked over.
“Meoooow (From the view of this cat, this one has no prospects).”
Cel and Arthur, who had been sharing fresh wine, talked ill of him as well.
“Hey, Lei.”
“Is it too much to say that the basic steps are always wrong? You memorized them, right?”
In the meantime, the gramophone’s discs turned around. Exhausted, Kleio released Dione’s arm and fell on the sofa. He was too tired, even for a drink. Since Dione was such a great teacher, he quickly memorized the steps he saw. With the increase in narrative intervention, all of Promise’s functions had advanced a step, so it wasn’t even work on memorizing such simple moves. However, even the enormous power of Promise didn’t help put those memories into action with his body…
‘I knew it, but that’s how it is? Where is this body’s motor nerves?!’
“Cel, you try it. Is this easy?”
Seeing Kleio exhausted, Dione placed both hands on her waist and raised her chin.
“Ha, you’re weaker than me, but you want to live in this harsh world?”
“Yeah. This slender lady is dancing all night in those shoes. Lei, you have no guts! Lady Dione, how about dancing with me?”
Cel gracefully bowed to Dione as she asked to dance.
“The young Tanpet de Neju’s request is always welcome. Look, young master, you request a dance like this, don’t crouch at the waist!”
“Ah… Yeah…”
Arthur grabbed the handle of the gramophone and closed it as Behemoth jumped up and pushed the tonearm with his front foot to touch the record skillfully. With that fantastic collaboration, the music started again. After greeting Dione, Cel put her hand on the back of her dance partner in a textbook posture.
“Lady Dione, call me Cel.”
“How exciting.”
“Oh, this lady only speaks good words.”
They flowed according to the music, both their steps meshing together.
“What should I do? When I see Cel, you compare poorly to her.”
“…Why would you compare me to that socialite elite?”
Cel was one of the most popular socialites. Everyone knew that Cel was a woman, but none questioned the fact that she wore a suit and tailcoat and took the lead when dancing. She wasn’t from Albion, but a foreigner from Carolinger, so it would be strange to raise any objections.
‘If you told her to wear a dress, you’d be asked for a duel.’
“It may seem strange to you who hates dances, but Cel is expanding her network for a reason.”
“Ah, expanding her voting power…”
“Oh, you knew?”
He knew it from the last manuscript, but Kleio, now accustomed to it, picked a reasonable reason with a calm expression.
“I don’t know much, but… I don’t think that Cel will ever marry.”
She had been single to the end. In the future, the title she would acquire was ‘Thunder Goddess of Heaven,’ the same title as a saint who
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