CHAPTER 029
"That would be upsetting."
"Me...? Do you think I would be upset if you asked for help?"
"N-no..."
"Then who would be upset?"
Maxwell raised an eyebrow at Arabelle’s response. However, his voice lost its earlier chill and was now gentle.
His red eyes, round and filled with warmth, did not rush her and patiently waited.
‘Why are you so frustrating? Just speak up, speak!’
‘Why can’t you answer properly? You must be hiding something or have done something wrong, right?’
These were words Arabelle had heard since she was a child.
The reason she couldn’t immediately answer questions wasn’t because she was slow-witted or trying to hide something. She was very sincere and cautious.
She wasn’t trying to say what others wanted to hear, cover up mistakes, or make up beneficial words. She needed time to convey her true feelings.
People often misunderstood her cautiousness as frustrating and pushed her into a corner. If such misunderstandings happened repeatedly, how could anyone not become timid in conversations with others?
Just as the Emperor himself had misunderstood her in the forest earlier, people likely misunderstood and pressured her without giving her a chance to explain. Understanding Arabelle’s way of communication a bit better now, Maxwell waited without pressing her.
After some time, Arabelle clenched her dress tightly with both hands and carefully began to speak.
“When the competition is over, the Empress… the one who becomes the Empress will be upset.”
“The Empress?”
The Emperor was taken aback by Arabelle’s unexpected answer and asked again, not sure how to respond.
He had never been at a loss for words in his life, not even during diplomatic disputes with other kingdoms or disagreements with the council of senior nobles. Yet, in front of her, he often found himself speechless.
“The other candidates don’t know the real reason you brought me to the palace. They all mistakenly think that you favor me and chose me as a candidate for Empress…”
Blushing deeply, Arabelle lowered her head and continued.
“If you help me, the lady who becomes Empress will be very upset. If she finds out that I met with you privately, she will be hurt.”
The Emperor felt as though he had been struck in the head—or rather, the heart—with a hammer.
She didn’t ask for his help or think to contact him because she was worried the future Empress would misunderstand and be hurt by the Emperor’s affection for another woman. Despite the fact that one of those women tormenting her would become Empress.
As her small head lifted again, her kind eyes met his unwaveringly.
“So, don’t worry. I came here to help lift your curse, and I can endure whatever happens in the separate palace. And as I promised, I will not run away until the curse is lifted.”
The Emperor’s expression softened immensely as he looked down at Arabelle, then furrowed again.
Hearing her response, he felt relieved knowing she hadn’t avoided his help because she didn’t want to see him. However, for some reason, he now felt quite irritated. He glanced at Arabelle’s hand still held in his and clenched his jaw.
Her words implied she had no ambition for the position of Empress, the highest status a woman could aspire to.
Why? Because of me...? Because she doesn’t want to be my wife…?
Misinterpreting Arabelle’s words in his own way, the Emperor narrowed his eyes and looked down at her.
“Lady, you seem to misunderstand. I’m not trying to help you for your sake but for mine.”
The Emperor, uncharacteristically expressing his emotions due to his twisted mood, spoke curtly.
“If you are left defenseless, people will start to notice. They’ll say there must be a different reason why the Emperor brought you here if he’s leaving you unprotected. They’ll be desperate to find out the real reason I brought you here.”
“I hadn’t considered that.”
Understanding the Emperor’s words, Arabelle’s eyes widened with worry.
“So, if you need help, inform me immediately. Otherwise, our secret might be exposed.”
“Yes. I will.”
Arabelle nodded, accepting the Emperor’s warning without a doubt.
Although she agreed, she would still find it difficult to ask for help easily. The Emperor’s gaze, softened with pity, rested on her long eyelashes casting shadows on her cheeks.
“You know there’s a grand banquet for the eleven candidates in three days at the palace, right?”
When the Emperor deliberately changed the topic in a gruff voice, Arabelle nodded.
“I heard the dancers from Chatel gave a special practical class to the ladies for three days. Did you attend?”
Of course not. They must have intentionally left her out.
The Emperor thought, seeing her awkward smile as she tried to hide her discomfort.
“Do you know how to dance the social dances performed by men and women?”
“No. I haven’t learned how to dance.”
She hadn’t danced with a man or even held a man’s hand...
Arabelle shyly glanced at the Emperor’s hand still holding hers.
As expected.
The Emperor reached for the door at the end of the corridor,
“There will be many eyes watching at this banquet. If you can’t dance, there will be much gossip. I’ll say it again, I’m not helping you for your sake but to protect my secret.”
With those words, he pushed the door open.
***
“Now, Lady, place your right hand in my left palm… Yes, yes. Just like that, very good.”
Sir Theo, the empire’s finest dancer, praised the lady standing before him as he wiped the sweat from his forehead with a handkerchief. Even in the chilly basement, he felt sweat trickle down his back under the intense, prickly gaze he sensed.
“Then, place your left hand over my chest…”
“Ahem!”
As soon as the words left his mouth, a cough—more like a threatening growl—sounded from behind him.
“Higher than the chest, much higher, near the shoulder… Yes, just like that. Now, my right arm will go around your waist…”
Sir Theo’s right arm moved to wrap around Arabelle’s waist, but there was a loud thud as the scabbard of the Emperor’s sword hit the ground.
Startled, Sir Theo froze in place, his movement halted, as the ominous footsteps approached on the stone floor of the basement.
Standing between Sir Theo and Arabelle, the Emperor spoke in a low voice. He took both of Arabelle’s hands, which had been resting on Sir Theo’s shoulders, and lowered them while lifting his chin.
"Is physical contact absolutely necessary to teach dancing?"
"What...?"
Sir Theo’s eyes darted around in confusion.
His dream was to be the principal dancer of the Empire’s leading dance troupe, but he had gained fame for his bravery on the battlefield as the sole heir to the renowned McCair Baron family. He had been secretly participating in illegal dance competitions under a hidden identity but was dragged before the Emperor.
‘I don’t particularly like coercing people by exploiting their weaknesses. I prefer voluntary cooperation. So, let’s negotiate.’
The Emperor had promised to include him in the delegation to Chatel, where he could dance freely, in exchange for teaching the lady and keeping it a secret. Of course, if the secret got out,
‘These will be sent to your father and the knights.’
The Emperor had shown Sir Theo a set of sheer stage costumes. Sparkly stockings and a short crop top he had been wearing lay at his feet.
Naturally, Sir Theo had accepted the Emperor’s offer. Suddenly, his eyes were blindfolded, and he was dragged away by someone. When the blindfold was removed, he found himself in a dim basement.
‘Wait here.’
He heard a familiar voice that soon disappeared. It sounded like the Emperor’s deputy commander of the Imperial Guard.
As he looked around, the door on the opposite side opened, and the Emperor entered, followed by a small, cute lady who stood beside him.
‘At this rate, we’ll be here all night without making any progress.’
What he thought would be an easy dance lesson was hindered by a significant obstacle.
Teaching a social dance with men and women required physical contact. It wasn’t like they would be rubbing bodies together. Seeing the Emperor’s cold and arrogant red eyes looking down at him, the words he wanted to speak were swallowed back down.
He was already nervous and sweating every time he was in the Emperor’s presence. His legs trembled as the Emperor glared at him like a pervert.
“I-I’ll try without physical contact. So, once again…”
Now, with the Emperor standing with his arms crossed and watching, Sir Theo and Arabelle assumed their dance positions without touching each other’s fingers.
“Step to the right, then glide back while leaning your waist back like this… ugh.”
As soon as Arabelle’s chest brushed against Sir Theo’s during the backward lean, Sir Theo’s body was pushed back five steps. The Emperor’s long fingers, once called deadly weapons on the battlefield, had mercilessly shoved his shoulder.
“This won’t do.”
Running his fingers through his hair, the Emperor made a decision and stood in front of Arabelle.
“As I said, I dislike dancing, but to make progress, I’ll have to teach you myself. It seems Sir Theo is already exhausted.”
In the dim basement, Sir Theo looked at the Emperor with eyes full of injustice.
Come to think of it... Sir Theo’s eyes widened as he watched the Emperor politely extend his hand to Arabelle.
He had never seen the Emperor dance. The Emperor rarely attended banquets, and even on special occasions, he didn’t dance with ladies.
Many nobles were looking forward to the upcoming banquet where the Emperor was supposed to dance with each candidate. They would finally see the continent’s most distinguished man dance.
Looking down, Arabelle saw the large toe of a shoe, then a large, rough, calloused hand, surprisingly at odds with the refined face.
“My lady, would you do me the honor of dancing with me?”
The Emperor’s deep, resonant voice politely asked, and Arabelle looked up at him.
In the corner, Sir Theo, massaging his pricked shoulder, watched in astonishment. The Emperor was the only man who didn’t need to ask for a lady’s permission to dance at a banquet.
A list of ladies who would dance with the Emperor was always prepared. When the Emperor took to the center stage, the waiting lady would step forward and start the dance. However, since the Emperor never danced, this royal custom was meaningless.
But now, the Emperor, like any nobleman asking a lady to dance, bent slightly and extended his hand to Arabelle.
Not knowing what to do, Arabelle stood still. The Emperor reached out, carefully took her right hand, and placed it in his left palm.
Then he placed her left hand over his upper right chest and wrapped his right arm around her slender waist, pulling her close. Every gesture was exceedingly polite.
Arabelle’s eyelids fluttered as she looked at the Emperor before her.
Under the flickering lamplight, the Emperor’s face, smiling at her, seemed almost dreamy. His arm tightened around her waist, pulling her body against his without any gap.
The Emperor bent his head and whispered in her ear, his red lips brushing against it.
“Shall we dance now?”
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