The Second Dance

The dance tune was 《Lande Midsummer Night》.

Unlike the blood-pumping opening piece, the second dance tune was soothing and gentle, calming both body and mind, just like drifting off to sleep to the chirping of insects on a midsummer night.

After the grand and majestic opening piece, it was time to enjoy peace and tranquility. Unmarried couples gently held each other, swaying slowly to the rhythm of the music, feeling each other's warmth and heartbeats. Gaze met gaze, the tenderness in their eyes even softer than the crimson moonlight of a midsummer night.

【Hm?】

Alright, maybe not.

Lynch reined in the runaway thoughts in his mind. He couldn't help letting his imagination wander, as the count's daughter in his arms was truly too enchanting.

In truth, Miss Diana had done nothing at all. She merely wore a smile at the corner of her lips, quietly resting against Lynch's chest just like the other young women on the dance floor. Yet for some reason, listening to her soft breaths, the memories of every meeting over these past few months surfaced vividly in Lynch's mind.

From strangers to wariness, from hostility to friendship, sharing hardships, braving life and death together.

When they first met, who could have imagined that one day this favored daughter of a prominent noble family would be embracing him in a dance like this?

To have reached this point in life... Uh...

Miss Diana rolled her eyes slightly and flashed a meaningful smile. “Where is she?”

“Ahem, what ‘she’? I don't know what you mean,” Lynch coughed dryly, nearly losing his footing. “She went on patrol.”

“So that's why you came?”

???

Lynch felt as though another star had appeared in the night sky, and cold sweat broke out on his forehead.

Yet the count's daughter merely giggled, gave him a playful glare, and lightly hummed along to the music as she danced, her expression filled with amusement.

You can't play dirty like that, young lady.

The omnipresent reporters stood waiting just outside the dance floor. Whenever the two drifted near the edge, the reporters would fire off a barrage of photographs, refusing to let a single opportunity slip by.

This cast an imperceptible shadow over Lynch's good mood.

With a little thought, Lynch understood clearly. Without a doubt, this was a plot concocted by those whose interests had been harmed because of him. They aimed to spite and disgust him by striking at Miss Valente, making his life difficult as well.

Someone was pulling strings behind those two noble youths to make them seek revenge on him by aggressively asking Miss Diana to dance. If Lynch hadn't shown up, even if no rift formed between the two of them, things would have turned out just as Officer Natalie feared: both of them would endure endless gossip in the future. The eldest daughter of a count throwing herself at someone only to be brushed aside—such a reputation would follow Diana for a long time.

And this was the outcome of Lynch stepping forward: witnessed by everyone in the hall and frantically chased by reporters. Tonight it would likely spread across the entire city, and tomorrow it would go viral across the royal capital. In the end, the Valente family would lose all face, Miss Diana would be recalled to the royal capital, and she might spend the rest of her life submerged in gossip, unable to hold her head up.

It held no real destructive power, purely designed to disgust and humiliate.

“More than that,” Miss Valente murmured softly, leaning against Lynch's chest and listening to the vibrations within, her eyes comfortably narrowed. “Striking at the Valente family, stirring up discord between the high nobles of Norin and Rhine, widening the rift between nobles and commoners, deepening the hostility between the two, and undermining the aristocratic faction's popular support—this was definitely done by the parliamentary faction. They egged on those noble scions to lead the charge. It seems these people were provoked by the royal family's twenty thousand pounds in aid and won't miss any chance to score a point back.”

Guiding the count's daughter in a gentle sway, occasionally circling near the edge of the dance floor to deliberately show off their intimate dance to the reporters, Lynch asked, “You knew all along?”

Miss Diana wrinkled her nose playfully and said with feigned displeasure, “Hah, Mr. Lynch, although not every noble possesses sharp political acumen—or chooses to have it, like those two earlier—most nobles are political animals from the moment they are born. If one couldn't even see through a scheme like this, they should have been weeded out by the times long ago.”

“Yet knowing full well it was a trap, you still stepped right into it.”

“Because someone reached his hand out to me.” Miss Diana tilted her head up, her eyes crinkling into crescent moons with a smile, looking just like a little fox that had just snatched a chicken. “Stepping into a trap and being caught in one are two different things. I merely walked into the trap to eat the delicious bait. As for how to get out—hehe, my hero will rescue me.”

Lynch's mouth fell open, utterly dumbfounded.

“Princesses aren't the only ones locked in castles longing for a hero to rescue them, Mr. Lynch. Noble young ladies dream of such things too, and she whole-heartedly believes in her hero's promise.” Miss Valente's smile was exceptionally radiant. “So, I leave everything in your hands, my hero.”

Good grief, I can't take this. What do I do if I get a heart attack? Waiting online, urgent.

Lynch's heart pounded wildly and his eyes went wide. If the setting weren't inappropriate, he might have actually done something. But under the watchful eyes of the entire crowd, he could only conceal his mischievous gaze.

He thought he had hidden it well, but unfortunately, he overlooked one detail.

No one in the room was blind; everyone had eyes.

Among the onlookers gathered around the dance floor, many whispered among themselves, some rejoicing while others fretted.

The music gradually faded, and their dance steps slowly came to a halt.

In the music's final lingering notes, Lynch dropped to one knee like a true Lande gentleman, cradled Miss Diana's slender hand, and concluded today's second dance with a standard hand kiss.

Another burst of flashbulbs went off, and several reporters rushed forward, surrounding the two completely.

“Mr. Levive, you are a commoner, aren't you? Isn't maintaining an ambiguous relationship with a noble young lady inappropriate? What are your thoughts on this?”

“Mr. Levive, quite a few noble gentlemen looked displeased while you were dancing this dance. Are you at all worried about that?”

“Miss Valente, regarding your decision to dedicate your first dance today to Mr. Levive, will your father, His Excellency Count Valente, be displeased about this?”

“Mr. Levive, was your act of breaking taboo intentional or accidental?”

For a time, the two were boxed in the center by the reporters, every one of whom held up a notebook and stared expectantly at them.

Further out were the attending guests—some with sinister gazes and smirks, some watching cold and gloating from the sidelines, some anxious and worried—a vivid panorama of human nature.

Particularly behind the reporters, several sneering nobles stood closest, looking as if they couldn't wait to see Lynch make a fool of himself.

Especially the two he had clashed with earlier; Lynch could even clearly see the vicious smirks on their faces.

They sure hold a grudge; they really should take a page from Miss Valente's book.

Lynch scoffed and pointed at the reporters. “What do you want me to say? You just want to hear me spout some outrageous, controversial statements so you can publish a sensational headline. You lot are too young, your thinking is too simple, and sometimes naive. How could I think like that? You know the twelve major gods, right? You know the evil gods, right? They're on a level far above you, and I talk and laugh with them all the time.”

Lynch was having fun, but the reporters were left dumbfounded. Finally, someone couldn't hold back. “Mr. Levive, but what do you actually think?”

“Want to know?” Lynch's gaze swept over the reporters and the surrounding crowd of onlookers as he said with a smile, “Unfortunately, quite a few people are going to be disappointed. Heh, someone will be telling you very soon.”

A burst of enthusiastic applause suddenly sounded outside the crowd. Everyone turned their heads in surprise, only to discover His Excellency the Duke supporting Her Highness the Princess, accompanied by Viscount Moliere, the King's secretary in formal attire, walking over under the escort of a large retinue.