Moonlight through the window was the only thing cutting through the darkness of the cabin.
"Who is it? Can't a guy get some sleep?"
Wayland fumbled for the switch to the ceiling light, then pulled open his door.
Before him stood Elena, dressed in a stunning evening gown.
It was a vibrant, multicolored piece, dominated by shades of pink and blossoming with intricate, three-dimensional fabric flowers. The hem of the soft petals was trimmed with delicate white-gold accents.
She carried a rose-pink satin clutch and wore a coral necklace that draped gracefully over her collarbone.
She was radiant, elegant, and noble.
...And still remarkably flat-chested and short.
"I'm not dreaming, am I?" Wayland muttered, reaching out to give his own arm a sharp pinch.
"Wayland!" The dignified aura instantly evaporated. Elena stood on her tiptoes and glared at him, her voice dropping into a dangerous warning. "What exactly is that supposed to mean?"
"I mean... you look so beautiful it feels like a dream," Wayland said, his expression remaining perfectly calm.
"That's more like it." Elena's anger vanished into a bright smile. "Come on. To celebrate the success of the mission, we're holding a gala tonight."
"A gala?" Wayland suddenly remembered Max mentioning that the Ocean Phantom had a ballroom.
"Exactly. And I came specifically to get you."
"I think I'll pass." Wayland shook his head. In his previous life, he'd been an average high school student; in this one, he spent every waking moment obsessing over magecraft. He didn't have the time or the inclination to learn social dancing. "I don't know the first thing about dancing, and I don't have anything to wear."
"I've already taken care of the clothes." Like a magician performing a trick, Elena produced a finely tailored suit from behind her back.
'Asking a shut-in to go dancing... now that's what I call a truly constructive idea.'
Wayland instinctively took the suit. The fabric had a subtle, silky sheen and felt incredibly comfortable to the touch.
He let out a long, resigned sigh. "You're really making things difficult for me, Captain."
"It's fine! I can teach you the steps. And even if you don't dance, you still have to eat dinner, right?"
Elena patted her chest, the coral necklace clinking against her collarbone. She looked utterly confident. "Just trust your Captain. I'm practically the social butterfly of the Clock Tower. Waltz, Rumba, Tango, Cha-cha--pick one. If I haven't taught you the basics in thirty minutes, I'll consider it my loss!"
Since she'd gone to such lengths, Wayland found it impossible to refuse. He closed the door and changed into the suit.
He stretched his limbs, testing the fit. It wasn't restrictive at all.
It seemed she'd chosen the size with meticulous care.
When he opened the door again, Elena's eyes lit up. In the formal white suit, Wayland looked like a completely different person. His natural good looks were amplified tenfold, though his sleep-mussed hair ruined the overall aesthetic slightly.
"Hey, your hair!"
"It's fine." Wayland simply ran his fingers through it to smooth it down.
As they entered the ballroom, the first thing that caught Wayland's eye was the long buffet table in the corner, laden with an array of aromatic delicacies.
Following the sound of a soft piano melody, he glanced up at the small orchestra on the second-floor balcony.
Max, dressed in a sharp black suit, was seated at the grand piano. His eyes were closed, his fingers dancing across the keys as his body swayed in time with the music. He looked completely entranced, though to Wayland, it looked a bit like he was having a seizure.
Behind him, seven other musicians were tuning their instruments, creating a slightly chaotic cacophony.
The gala hadn't officially begun yet.
Wayland smelled the food and realized he was starving.
"Can I go eat now?" he asked.
"Of course not! We're starting your lessons first."
Elena hiked up her skirt with one hand and performed a graceful, shallow bow, her other hand extended toward Wayland.
"Fine. But I'm warning you... I really am a terrible dancer."
"A walk in the park!"
Elena hadn't yet realized the gravity of Wayland's warning. She practically dragged him onto the dance floor and began her instruction.
Thirty minutes later, she stood there, mouth agape, staring down at her white high heels. "I... I admit defeat..."
Wayland gave her an embarrassed smile and whispered an apology. "I'm sorry, Captain. I didn't mean to keep stepping on your shoes. I just can't seem to control my own feet."
Wayland felt that learning to dance was significantly more difficult than mastering the spear techniques of the Shadow Country.
His mind and his muscles were in a state of total disagreement.
Whenever he tried to step with his left foot, his right foot would move instinctively. Instead of becoming more fluid with practice, his body only grew stiffer, as if he were fighting an invisible constraint.
Eventually, he lost all sense of rhythm and direction, his arms and legs flailing in a confused, uncoordinated jumble.
Elena was forced to admit her first defeat of the night.
She gave up on the lessons entirely, leaving Wayland to beat a hasty retreat toward the buffet table.
He grabbed a glass of red wine and downed it in one go.
He smacked his lips, unimpressed. It wasn't nearly as satisfying as the 'liquid happiness'--a cold can of soda--he'd favored in his previous life.
Setting the glass aside, he turned his full attention to the food.
Across the ballroom, dozens of couples were drifting gracefully across the floor, but Wayland was perfectly content to spend his evening in a one-on-one battle with a mountain of delicacies.
The joy of a true foodie was boundless.
In the month he'd spent in this world, this was the first time he'd experienced the pinnacle of Western cuisine. It was surprisingly diverse, easily rivaling the complexity of the Sichuan dishes he'd grown up with.
The styles were vastly different, but the level of mastery was the same.
In his opinion, a gathering like this was much more enjoyable when everyone was focused on eating and drinking--like a massive hot pot party.
"Whoa... why are you standing here all by yourself? Feeling lonely?"
[Translated and Rewritten by Shika_Kagura]