After following him to the middle of the dance floor, it happened that the previous song had just ended. The noble bowed slightly and extended his right hand toward Freya, who took it.
As a new, soft melody began to play, the noble took a step back and gave Freya a gentle tug as if to lead her. However, for Freya, this sudden movement caught her completely off guard. Combined with the fact that she was still not used to wearing high heels, her reaction was a bit too large.
Clack—
In her effort to maintain her balance, she took a step that was far too wide, landing squarely on the noble’s toes.
“Hiss—” The noble’s eyelids twitched. Though it was painful, he didn’t let it show. Instead, he continued trying to lead Freya in the dance. But Freya hadn't been lying; she truly didn't have the slightest clue how to do this.
As thirty seconds passed, she had stepped on him at least four or five times. At one point, her thin heel landed right on his toe.
In that moment, Freya saw his entire body stiffen. She quickly said, “I’m... I’m so sorry. Maybe we should just stop? I really don’t know how to dance.”
The noble took a deep breath, gritting his teeth against the sharp pain. “It’s fine! Who leaves in the middle of a dance? We’d be the laughingstock of the room.”
Freya replied, “But I saw your eyes rolling back just now...”
“That... you must have been mistaken,” the noble insisted. “I was just admiring the patterns on the ceiling.”
If Freya’s initial refusal to dance would have been an insult to him, then stopping halfway through would be an insult to Freya. Therefore, the noble sternly rejected her request to stop.
Then, a second later:
Clack—
“Hiss—!”
Normally, this kind of social dance between nobles involved a lot of physical contact and should have felt quite intimate. However, Freya felt none of that. Her entire focus was on her feet. Despite her best efforts to avoid it, she continued to step on him an uncountable number of times.
It was much the same for the noble. He felt as if he weren't dancing with a beautiful young lady, but with a hammer that was relentlessly pounding his toes.
Finally, the three-minute song ended. As soon as the dance was over, the noble quickly let go of her hand and wiped the cold sweat from his forehead. “You danced very well,” he said.
Hearing those words, Freya almost couldn't hold it in; she nearly burst out laughing.
The noble cleared his throat. “Anyway, before I go, may I ask your name?”
“My name is Freya Russell,” she replied.
“That is a lovely name,” the noble said. “Well... I have other matters to attend to, so I shall take my leave. Until next time.”
Freya nodded, and then she watched as the man practically fled from the area.
...
Once he was out of Freya’s sight, the noble quickly made his way toward a round table. Although it was located near the center of the palace—an area that should have been the most crowded—it was currently a small dead zone.
Only one person sat at the table. Other nobles, even when passing by, would deliberately steer clear of the area, keeping as much distance as possible.
The noble limped over to the table and sat down across from the man. He immediately began to complain. “Trig, you’ve really done me in this time. I’m starting to wonder if she has a grudge against me and was doing that on purpose.”
“She stepped on me twice at the start, and I thought she was being malicious, but then I realized she really, truly has no idea how to dance! Ow, my feet...”
Trig Hurst, the current Prime Minister of the Kingdom of Tarapaca, was arguably the most powerful man in the country besides the King himself. He was also General Jerome’s collaborator and the supplier of the Devil and War Pathway potions.
In the timeline ten years into the past, this same Trig was known by titles such as the Usurper, the Regent, and the Demigod of Law.
Trig’s expression remained unchanged as he took a small sip of hot water. “Damian, you know I don't like meaningless chatter. So, did you find out anything else?”
“Fine, fine,” Damian grumbled. “Her name is Freya Russell. She’s a friend of the Holmes girl. She’s not a noble, just a commoner. So, what exactly are you investigating her for? What, does the Prime Minister have a thing for her type?”
Damian couldn't deny that Freya was incredibly beautiful, but there were many pretty girls. For Damian, temperament and grace were more important, and Freya didn't have a shred of noble air about her. If Trig hadn't requested it, he never would have asked her to dance.
“I just felt like she looked a bit familiar,” Trig said. “Don’t worry about the rest.”
“Hah, even if you wanted me to keep tabs on her, I wouldn't,” Damian said. “You have no idea how much it hurt when she stepped on me. I don’t think I’ve ever sustained such a major injury even when fighting other extraordinaries.”
...
Time passed slowly. By the time Freya had snuck another batch of food and had nearly eaten her fill, the gathering was reaching its climax. A man wearing a crown, appearing to be in his forties or fifties, entered the palace surrounded by a large entourage. This was the King of the country.
His gaze swept across the room. Even though he didn't look directly at Freya, she felt an inexplicable pressure weigh down on her shoulders. The previously boisterous gathering grew quiet in an instant.
“Is this the Law Pathway ability called Coercion?”
Freya immediately recalled the knowledge Euphy had shared with her. But to be able to exert such an effect with a Rank One ability, the King’s rank was likely quite high.
A high-rank extraordinary of the Law Pathway?
The King then offered some standard pleasantries, essentially welcoming everyone to the gathering and stating that the country’s prosperity and strength were thanks to everyone present.
Freya let his words go in one ear and out the other; she didn't care at all. She was more concerned about where the potions were.
Finally, as he finished speaking, two soldiers pushed a display case into the room from behind the King. Inside were thirteen bottles of potions.
Rate on N.U.
