Chapter 15
Lucy swallowed hard as she looked up at Bartholomew.
It was the first time she had seen his face this close.
And it wasn’t with a furrowed brow or a scowl.
Lucy felt a sense of wonder.
Bartholomew was a man who naturally exuded an untouchable aura.
It was astonishing to her that she had acted so friendly toward him, and even became his dance partner.
“I wonder if I’ll look like the most impressive dance partner at the royal banquet?”
Considering her usual position as someone often disliked, it was truly a stroke of luck for her.
“And on top of that, he lets me move and speak freely, regardless of stats.”
He was, in every sense, a blessing that had fallen right into her lap.
As Lucy’s gaze lingered, lost in thought, one of Bartholomew’s eyebrows rose.
Then, with a slight tilt of his mouth, he spoke.
“Are you going to say something strange again?”
From past experience, Lucy always said something odd whenever she looked at him like that.
She had meant it as a joke—but her audience was Lucy.
A complete fool, perfected by her aestheticist skill.
“Bartholomew Gongja, your hair resembles a calm night, and your eyes are like a beautiful sea.”
As Lucy spoke, seemingly entranced—
Ding!
[Your Aestheticist skill has increased by 2.]
[Flattery Level: 30]
The system notified her that her condition had worsened.
Bartholomew stared at Lucy, completely speechless.
She had no intention of teasing him.
She was serious.
In the end, Bartholomew, as if admitting defeat, looked away from her.
“Shall we begin?”
Lucy nodded firmly, determination in her expression.
Counting the beat with her lips, she moved cautiously.
The moment she stepped toward Bartholomew,
“Ah.”
Her mind counted the beat perfectly, but her body threatened to step on his foot again.
At that moment, Bartholomew tightened his arms around Lucy’s waist and pulled her slightly.
Following his lead, Lucy turned half a circle.
Her eyes widened.
She looked up at him.
“I didn’t step on you!”
Joy flushed her cheeks.
Seeing Lucy’s innocent delight, the corner of Bartholomew’s mouth lifted slightly—without him even realizing it.
Lucy, noticing, raised her eyebrows.
“Bartholomew Gongja, so you do know how to smile.”
Even if it was faint, for Lucy, who was used to seeing his lips tilt only in that crooked, serious way, it felt refreshing.
Bartholomew stiffened.
As if nothing had happened, he fixed his lips back into their usual rigid line.
“I did not smile.”
Lucy tilted her head.
“You did. It looks much better when you smile.”
“Have you never considered that the princess might smile too much?”
Bartholomew asked, recalling Lucy’s always-beaming face.
“Well, I think that when you smile, no one can bear to spit at you.”
Lucy spoke calmly, though a little embarrassed.
It had been a habit of hers even before possession.
A smile was the simplest way to be kind to others.
And it didn’t cost anything.
“Does it look strange?”
Bartholomew didn’t answer immediately.
He pondered why Lucy kept smiling.
She was rumored to be a princess abandoned by all.
Surely she hadn’t received warmth from the emperor, nor from others.
Yet she did not lose her smile. He thought perhaps it was a survival strategy, chosen to avoid being hated by people.
Bartholomew felt an odd sensation.
Until now, he had thought of himself as someone carefree—but contrary to appearances, Lucy might also have a restless heart.
“It is not strange.”
He said this, straightening his posture.
Lucy readied herself to continue from where they had paused.
She matched her stance to his movements.
The distance between them grew remarkably close.
Bartholomew suddenly became aware of Lucy.
He realized he had never closed such a distance with anyone before.
He had lived alone without proper friends, never debuting in society, and had no experience interacting with others.
He had never danced socially, making Lucy his first partner.
“Women are all….”
Bartholomew furrowed his brows slightly.
“So soft…?”
To him, Lucy’s body felt unusually tender.
If he exerted too much force, he might hurt her.
Finally, the tension in Bartholomew’s arms around her eased.
But his waist remained firm and straight.
As his shoulders stiffened, tension set in.
“This is a problem.”
He felt a sense of unease.
It was as if Lucy’s own tension had transferred to him; he, too, became awkward.
He worried that he might step on her foot. A cold sweat ran down his back.
If he, a man, stepped on Lucy’s delicate-looking feet, she might not be able to continue their dance practice.
Lucy noticed Bartholomew handling her so carefully and became puzzled.
“Why are you acting like that?”
“No… cough!”
Bartholomew shook his head and coughed.
He quickly released her and turned away.
He tried to suppress the cough, but it was difficult.
“Bartholomew Gongja?”
Concern crept into Lucy’s eyes as she looked at him.
“Was dancing too much for him?”
He had said it wasn’t serious.
Even if it wasn’t terminal, his condition seemed like a chronic ailment.
“I thought dancing a bit would be fine.”
Lucy felt guilty, thinking she had imposed too much without considering his health.
“Are you alright? Shall I get you some water?”
Bartholomew seemed preoccupied with his coughing.
Worried he might start coughing up blood, Lucy gently patted his back.
After a few more coughs, Bartholomew looked at her.
His complexion had turned pale.
Then—
Ding!
[Due to your Aestheticist skill, you feel anger toward obstacles that ruin beauty.]
What was that sound?
Soon, Lucy understood the system message.
A strong urge to eliminate the illness troubling Bartholomew surged through her, filling her chest.
“I’m fine.”
Despite his words, Lucy’s serious expression did not waver.
Seeing her, usually smiling, suddenly so serious, Bartholomew felt uneasy.
It was somewhat unpleasant.
She seemed to wear a mask that didn’t suit her; he wanted to see her smile instead.
“Really. Let’s continue dancing.”
Suppressing another cough, Bartholomew spoke.
At last, Lucy’s expression softened a little.
“If it’s too hard, you don’t have to push yourself. I don’t want you to be in pain, Bartholomew Gongja.”
Bartholomew blinked slowly.
“She doesn’t want me to be in pain.”
It was the first time someone had shown such concern for him.
Lucy was claiming his first experiences, one by one.
Feeling an inexplicable sense of crisis, he grabbed her arm.
The two danced in a subdued atmosphere. Bartholomew, about to cough, missed the timing to lead her.
He quickly pulled her toward him, but his steps tangled, and he lost his balance.
He spun Lucy over himself and fell backward.
For a moment, Lucy ended up on top of him.
Bartholomew, more than feeling the sting on his back and head, was flustered by the sensation of her pressing into him.
“Are you alright?”
Lucy steadied herself with her hands on the floor.
Her hair brushed against his cheek.
Bartholomew looked up at her, eyes wide, with concern.
He parted his lips to say something, then swallowed hard.
Avoiding her gaze, he finally said,
“Let’s stop here for today.”
Lucy nodded and stepped back.
Bartholomew, using his poor health as an excuse, left first.
His ears were slightly flushed, though Lucy did not notice.
