DED 14

Chapter 14

Bartolomew didn’t know how to react when he saw Lucy’s clear, innocent face.

Long eyelashes fluttering naively.
Cheeks tinged with a warm blush.
Eyes shining softly with light.

“Your Highness…”

Bartolomew cleared his throat.

“You have a talent for saying absurd things as if they were true.”

“I didn’t lie even once in what I told you, Lord Bartolomew.”

Bartolomew shook his head as if dismissing it.

“You need not worry about my illness.”

“Then that means…”

“It’s not fatal, nor is anyone trying to harm me.”

Lucy let out a relieved breath.

Even if he was a supporting character, Bartolomew had been the person she had spent the most time speaking with since she was possessed into the game.

It would have been sad if someone as close as a first friend were to disappear so quickly.

No, more precisely… he’s someone I want to be friends with.

Unlike Lucy, Bartolomew wouldn’t consider her a friend.

It was obvious he was interacting with her out of obligation, because she owed him a favor.

“By the way, you’ve chosen the wrong partner.”

“Excuse me?”

“I can’t dance.”

Bartolomew tapped the book slowly with his index finger.

“I’ve never learned social dancing.”

Lucy was momentarily at a loss for words.

For nobles, learning social dancing was one of the basic etiquettes.

What Bartolomew was saying meant he had grown up without learning even the most basic etiquette.

Is it because he’s frail?

Still, wouldn’t someone teach the basics? A duke’s family, no less.

Come to think of it…

Lucy had never seen any family visit Bartolomew when he was ill.

He always seemed alone in this vast temple, and appeared accustomed to it.

Lucy studied him quietly.

At the moment she sensed the loneliness shadowed across his profile:

“He’s handsome, so what does it matter?”

Bartolomew slowly turned to look at her.

His face reflected sheer bewilderment.

Lucy covered her mouth belatedly.

Again.

Without her will, another embarrassing comment slipped out.

She recalled the Aestheticist skill she had forgotten.

It seemed this skill only activated with Bartolomew.

Otherwise, it was impossible to explain why, whenever she tried to have an honest conversation with him, an awkward or embarrassing comment would always escape her.

If it’s a skill, shouldn’t it at least have some effect?

What kind of ability is spouting nonsense?

Even the shameless Lucy couldn’t help feeling embarrassed.

Her cheeks flushed slightly at the thought, which ironically made her words seem even more sincere.

“I can’t dance either.”

Lucy broke the awkward silence.

“I’ve never had the chance to learn social dancing.”

Naturally. Before being possessed, she hadn’t lived in a world where social dancing was a basic necessity.

But to Bartolomew, her words struck differently.

It sounded as though she, too, had grown up without proper care—just like him.

Though Lucy sometimes seemed unpredictable, Bartolomew felt a strange sense of kinship in her words.

At this point, he even wondered if others might think he was from another world too.

And it wasn’t entirely wrong.

He felt like an object with an expiration date rather than a living person.

Something meant to be set aside when the time came.

He thought maybe Lucy could understand this lonely feeling, floating without a place in the world.

Perhaps he had met someone for the first time who could share the same loneliness.

…But what does that matter?

Bartolomew steadied the faintly swelling hope in his heart.

He needed to live as indifferent as possible.

So that when the time came to disappear from the world, it would hurt less.

As if I can’t feel anything at all.

He must not be shaken by Lucy now.

Bartolomew hardened his expression.

Then he spoke in a calm voice:

“If neither of us can dance, what’s the point of dancing at the imperial banquet?”

With poor dance skills, they would not catch the Emperor’s attention but only become a laughingstock.

“Then we should learn.”

“Learn? From someone else?”

Just practicing together would be awkward enough—now they had to show others their disgrace?

Reading the faint dissatisfaction on Bartolomew’s face, Lucy shook her head.

“We just need to follow the basic steps to this folk rhythm,” she said with a smile.

“And that much can be learned from a book.”

Lucy clenched her fists and grinned.

“Let’s learn to dance from a book together!”

Bartolomew visited Lucy’s room to practice dancing.

After familiarizing themselves with the basic steps from the book the day before, they would now try syncing together.

Bartolomew had no idea how to learn dancing from a book, but the basic steps were surprisingly simple.

There were designated steps for men and women, repeated from the start to the end of the music.

Not as hard as I thought.

Bartolomew thought so, but Lucy didn’t.

She had memorized the steps, but…

“Ah! Sorry!”

Lucy didn’t know where to place her feet as she stepped on Bartolomew’s foot again.

Her mind knew the steps, but her body didn’t follow.

Is it my low stats?

Ding!

[Tip: Dance skill is not affected by stats.]

The system message appeared as if reading her thoughts.

Lucy felt embarrassed by the confirmation.

If she continued to mess up in front of Bartolomew, who moved freely regardless of stats, it simply meant she was naturally clumsy.

I didn’t expect this.

Blushing, Lucy scratched her cheek as she looked at him.

Bartolomew buried his face in one hand, resting the other on his waist, letting out a small sigh.

If she stepped on him again, his feet wouldn’t survive until the imperial banquet.

Moreover, he might give up entirely.

“Let’s go slowly.”

Bartolomew removed his hand from his face.

“Let’s stretch the rhythm and try slowly.”

“Lord Bartolomew…”

Lucy clasped her hands, looking at him with gratitude.

“You’re not giving up on me.”

“I just want to return to my room and rest,” he said firmly.

Lucy resolved to do her best this time.

But the result was the same.

When she finally corrected one part, she faltered in another.

Cornered, Lucy had to think of another approach.

“Why don’t you lead me, Lord Bartolomew?”

Because she kept making mistakes, Bartolomew ended up memorizing her steps naturally.

“Also, while practicing, we haven’t touched each other at all.”

Lucy pointed out the awkwardness.

Keeping hands in the air while dancing might have confused them further.

“When we dance at the banquet, our arms and bodies will naturally touch—why not practice that way?”

Bartolomew could not argue.

He reluctantly nodded.

“Fine. Let’s try again.”

Lucy, determined, placed her hand on Bartolomew’s shoulder.

With the other hand, she clasped his.

“What are you doing?”

She gestured to her waist.

Bartolomew slowly wrapped his arm around her waist.

He naturally pulled her closer, and their bodies aligned.

Now it feels right.

Feeling that it might finally work, Lucy smiled and lifted her head.

Her eyes met Bartolomew’s as he looked down at her.