Chapter 12
“How does it feel, Olivia? Receiving your first oath?”
Though calling her name tenderly, Leopold’s lips twisted slightly at the corner—a telltale sign he always showed whenever something displeased him.
Whenever that happened, Olivia would always assume she’d done something wrong, carefully watching Leopold’s expression and doing her utmost to soothe his mood.
Out of habit, Olivia had started moving toward Leopold—but stopped short. She gently squeezed the Grand Duke’s hand, and his stiffening expression softened.
Leopold’s eyebrow arched crookedly as he watched this.
He’d been displeased with Olivia since earlier—when she pulled away from his hand, and now when she deliberately avoided his gaze.
This was utterly unacceptable.
Olivia should naturally have come to his side. They were surrounded by nobles. Yet here she stood, taking no action at all, as if daring to reject him outright in front of everyone.
His stomach churned violently. His eyes grew sharper as anger flared within him like a sudden blaze.
“Your Highness.”
The Grand Duke, who had shielded Olivia behind him, spoke with such gentleness it belied his fearsome nickname, “Demon of Slaughter”—the complete opposite of Leopold, who stood menacingly with sharp hostility.
“If you have no business here, please step aside. I was just about to share the first dance with the lady to whom I’ve sworn my oath.”
“My fiancée has just received her first oath, so I’d like to claim the first dance myself, Grand Duke.”
Despite his stiff tone, Leopold gazed at her with eyes softened into gentle curves.
“Come here, Liv.”
A tender voice called her nickname. In that instant, Olivia’s heart fluttered. It was the first time anyone had used her pet name since her mother.
Her heart pounded fiercely. Leopold beamed brightly—just as he had when he’d been her radiant savior at age eleven.
So Olivia nearly moved without thinking.
“You’ve always wanted to share your first dance with me, haven’t you?”
If only those words hadn’t sounded so much like charity, she truly might have.
The phrase “first dance” brought back memories of her debutante ball—herself standing dutifully beside Leopold, only for him to abandon her and take the hand of Lady Nordian instead.
And yet.
Leopold now stood brimming with confidence.
Olivia bit her lip inwardly as she watched him extend his hand so presumptuously without even asking, and call her by her nickname without permission.
…Am I really that easy to him?
Coming with Maria Etel yet calling her his fiancée, pretending ignorance about cards and flowers he’d never sent—though he’d surely heard from the steward.
Treating her as if she were nothing at all.
Her mood sank endlessly. Olivia struggled to steady her mind.
With no time to consider consequences, she slowly parted her lips.
“…This is a victory banquet honoring war heroes, Your Highness.”
“…Liv?”
Leopold called her name again, disbelief clear in his voice.
Olivia held her head higher than ever before. She didn’t care whether the storm swirling in Leopold’s blue eyes was anger at the situation or fury directed at her.
She was just too exhausted today.
“I’ll go dance the first dance with His Grace the Grand Duke first.”
As if on cue, the Grand Duke gently escorted Olivia away. One step, then two.
Ah—Olivia suddenly turned back toward Leopold as if remembering something belatedly.
With an arrogant, “I knew it” look in his eyes, Leopold stared down at her haughtily. Olivia bowed politely and said,
“Your Highness should go enjoy your first dance with Lady Etel over there.”
Leopold’s face twisted in displeasure. Olivia, still holding the Grand Duke’s hand, walked toward the center of the ballroom.
Her heart pounded as if about to burst.
For the first time, she’d pushed Leopold away.
An indescribable emotion filled Olivia’s heart completely.
.
.
.
“Isn’t it heavy?”
“Hm?”
“That sword.”
The Grand Duke gestured with a face full of laughter. Only then did Olivia realize she was holding the sword in one hand.
She’d assumed it would be heavy, studded as it was with jewels, but it felt lighter than expected. Olivia shrugged.
“True. I thought it’d be heavier.”
“If it’s not heavy, then we’ve just discovered an extraordinary talent! How about joining my knightly order?”
Olivia shot him a gentle glare, and the Grand Duke feigned innocence.
“Shall I hold it for you while we dance?”
Olivia nodded, and the Grand Duke took the sword. His knight came forward to receive it. A faint, muffled sound seemed to echo—“Ugh”—but amidst this, the Grand Duke bowed his head toward the Emperor.
“Thank you for your grace, Your Majesty. May I begin the first dance as one who has sworn an oath to this lady?”
“…Of course. It’s a joyous occasion. Let the banquet continue.”
The Emperor barely nodded, his lips pressed tightly together.
The orchestra resumed playing. Elegant melodies filled the ballroom once more with rich, colorful harmonies.
Meanwhile, the Emperor forced a smile. Dealing with his throbbing headache could wait.
The nobles were already murmuring. This commotion would likely spread among them in an instant—first to those uninvited nobles, then gradually even to commoners.
The Grand Duke had sworn a knight’s oath to the Crown Prince’s fiancée instead of the prepared Imperial Princess.
Both the Imperial Princess and even the Empress had already slipped away. Recalling the Princess’s pale face flushed with shame, the Emperor suppressed his killing intent as he stared at the Grand Duke.
His dog—who had always looked up at him with a blank expression—was now smiling beside the Crown Prince’s fiancée.
The traitorous cur.
How dare he.
How dare he, without knowing his place.
The Emperor barely managed to lift his tightly set lips.
No matter how much this brat provoked the imperial family, the White Quartz Mine—the very thing he coveted most—was still firmly in the Emperor’s grasp.
After all, this was the same man who had turned an entire war around just for that mine, claiming it was his late Duchess’s heirloom.
The Emperor began plotting how to rein him in. He couldn’t afford to let him go yet.
“…It’s time to consider the Imperial Princess’s marriage.”
At the Emperor’s quietly grinding words, the seasoned steward bowed his head.
In the center of the ballroom, Olivia exhaled lightly. Tension flickered across her otherwise expressionless face.
“Why are you trembling so much? You’re shaking even more than when you accepted my oath earlier.”
“Is there anything more nerve-wracking than a debut first dance?”
“The first dance?”
The Grand Duke echoed her words, sounding slightly surprised. Olivia smiled faintly—it was a little embarrassing, since Essela was the only other person who knew this fact.
The Grand Duke, who’d been looking elsewhere for no reason, suddenly blurted out,
“…Today is my first dance too.”
“Oh dear. That’s serious.”
Unaware that the tips of his ears, hidden beneath black hair, had turned red, Olivia added earnestly,
“But don’t worry too much. I’ve practiced a lot, so I won’t step on your feet.”
“Well, with heels like yours, I wouldn’t mind even if my feet got stamped on.”
“…Hm?”
Olivia, who’d been counting the beat, looked up at the Grand Duke.
“If my feet end up ruined, you’ll take responsibility, won’t you, my lady?”
The Grand Duke’s smile deepened. Before Olivia could discern whether he was joking, the music began.
The Grand Duke took Olivia’s hand effortlessly and led her. His natural movements made Olivia forget even the beat as she began to dance.
His leading was so excellent it was hard to believe he was a beginner. He even calmly met her eyes from time to time to check her tempo.
“…You said it was your first time…”
Olivia blurted out, then instantly regretted it. It was silly to sound annoyed at how skilled he was at dancing.
What was she even saying?
She hurriedly searched for something else to say. The Grand Duke narrowed his eyes slightly, clearly amused as he replied,
“I told you before—I’m skilled at anything involving my body.”
Well, that was true.
Olivia readily agreed, yet felt a tiny pang of pettiness. Still, she hadn’t expected him—unlike her own flustered self—to lead his partner so expertly on their very first dance.
“…I didn’t expect you to dance this well.”
“Well, I’m a bit disappointed myself.”
“Hm?”
“I was hoping your heel would stamp on me a little. I lead too well, don’t I?”
Olivia was momentarily speechless.
The Grand Duke spoke without the slightest change in expression, even letting out a soft sigh as if genuinely regretful.
His shamelessness was beyond compare. Unconsciously, Olivia relaxed her face and gave a faint smile.
Could this man truly be the Bicander Grand Duke, infamous as the “Demon of Slaughter”?
So carefree, and yet—
“Ah!”
Olivia gasped softly in surprise as she suddenly floated into the air. The Grand Duke lifted her effortlessly and spun her around. After landing lightly, Olivia’s eyes widened again like a startled rabbit’s.
Just as she thought the Grand Duke’s red eyes looked even deeper as he watched her,
he swiftly drew close and whispered into her ear.
“What are you thinking so hard about?”
He pulled back as abruptly as he’d come, smiling naturally. Olivia forced away the warmth creeping to her ears and smiled calmly.
“That I’ve received an incredibly precious gift.”
“To think you recognize my worth—it’s deeply gratifying, as the one who gave the gift.”
The Grand Duke lifted his chin, pride openly showing on his face. Wanting to tease him, Olivia pretended not to notice and changed the subject.
“I meant the sword—‘Ailauten.’”
“Oh? So you lift people up and set them down at will?”
“I’m the one being lifted, Your Grace.”
Perfectly timed, the Grand Duke grasped Olivia’s waist and lifted her upward.
She’d never known floating could feel this wonderful. She’d never guessed dancing a breathless waltz could feel so refreshing.
Olivia slowly fluttered her eyelids as her hair trailed gently behind her.
The Grand Duke, capturing every expression on her face, smiled faintly in return.
“…You’re quite good at banter.”
“Me?”
Still holding hands, Olivia’s eyes widened in surprise.
“I’ve never heard that before.”
Among the many things said about Olivia, “good at banter” had never been one—perhaps “stiff” or “boring,” but never that.
“What about ‘witty’?”
“Not once.”
“My, everyone around you must be blind.”
At the Grand Duke’s serious expression, Olivia couldn’t help but burst into laughter.
It really was strange. Was it because this was the first time she’d laughed at a banquet? Or because of that man, who made her laugh no matter what he said?
Behind the Grand Duke, who was smiling back at her, she spotted nobles peering at them like spies. A chill settled in one corner of Olivia’s chest.
Only then did she realize just how significant the oath she’d received truly was.
From now on, her honor would be directly tied to the Grand Duke’s. Whenever her name was dragged through the mud—as it often was—his name would inevitably be mentioned alongside hers.
She’d even distanced herself from Essela to avoid this. The thought that kindness toward her might bring harm to others suddenly filled her with fear.
The Grand Duke observed Olivia’s vanished smile. In that moment, she murmured,
“…It’s fine if you take it back.”
“Take what back?”
“That… Your Highness. About the oath… you could… take it back…”
Olivia hesitated mid-sentence. The best course would be for the Grand Duke to reconsider her attire and thus nullify the oath.
But strangely, she found herself reluctant.
If he took it back now…
This tender coincidence would never happen again. It was obvious their brief connection would end right here.
Just as Olivia’s lips refused to move,
“I’ll confess a secret—I never planned to swear an oath to you from the start. I came with my own strategy, you see.”
Olivia held her breath. She had to keep a composed expression, no matter what he said next. Playfulness flickered across the Grand Duke’s face as he continued,
“But just as I was about to gift only the sword, it hit me—‘Ah, I promised to give the most precious thing as a gift. But this sword is merely valuable, not the most precious. So what should I do?’”
As if racing toward the end, the waltz’s melody quickened behind his words.
What exactly did he mean to do?
Before Olivia could wonder further, the music surged into its climax.
Still holding hands, Olivia spun and spun again.
Her red dress bloomed and folded like a flower. Her loose silver hair, unpinned, shimmered under the chandelier’s light, captivating every onlooker.
At last, the waltz ended. Olivia, catching her breath, placed a hand over her chest, gripped her dress, and bowed gracefully toward the Grand Duke.
Standing before her, the Grand Duke bowed his head to Olivia and gently guided her hand.
Then he lightly brought his lips near her gloved hand—not quite touching it. In the stunned silence that followed this bold gesture, he whispered to Olivia before leaving.
Left alone in the midst of the crowd, Olivia stared blankly at the Grand Duke’s retreating back. Then, eyes wide, she looked at him once more.
His departing words echoed in her ears.
“So what could I do? The most precious thing—myself—had to become your gift.”
.
.
.
The Grand Duke’s smile—once as bright as spring roses—vanished. When his usually striking face turned expressionless, it felt as if the surrounding air grew colder.
Baron Howard Interfield, the knight who’d followed the Grand Duke, handed him the sword. An icy aura emanated from it, cold enough to freeze everything.
“Your Grace. Here.”
But the Grand Duke—one of the few, no, now perhaps the only one who could calm this blade—ignored it entirely, murmuring instead as he gazed toward the center of the ballroom,
“Why on earth does a waltz have a set duration?”
Winstor Kalter, his brown hair tousled from rushing over anxiously, whispered just loud enough for the Grand Duke to hear,
“Because you’re supposed to change partners. Speaking of which, why did you do that? You said you’d humble yourself one last time—for the mine’s sake.”
“Why must I change partners?”
“What? And the mine, Your Grace?!”
As if not hearing Winstor’s flustered question, the Grand Duke simply stared toward the center of the ballroom instead of replying.
The Crown Prince strode confidently toward Olivia. His uniform, matching hers in color, caught the eye. At this display of partnership, the Grand Duke’s eyes darkened deeply.
Killing intent seeped into the sword.
Startled, Winstor stepped back a few paces, but the Grand Duke’s gaze remained fixed on one person alone.
“You don’t mean…”
Winstor muttered. Howard gave a small nod. Their easiest plan—to court the Imperial Princess, owner of the White Quartz Mine—had gone up in smoke.
But His Grace must have devised another strategy. After all, snatching victory from any situation was precisely what the Grand Duke always did.
The music changed once more. Olivia, standing in the center of the ballroom, straightened her back proudly. She’d always stayed near the walls at banquets—but not today.
“You seem to have enjoyed yourself.”
Leopold extended his hand to Olivia as if it were only natural.
“…Yes, Your Highness.”
Olivia placed her hand in his. Then, looking directly at Leopold, she asked,
“Did you enjoy yourself as well, Your Highness?”
