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"Yet it often appears in court banquets, not so much in the kind of balls where performance matters—more in those where socializing takes precedence."
As the words fell, Hilda happened to be in a backward step, her hand "lightly" holding Eris', their eyes meeting.
Eris, however, was flustered, staring at the shoe print on Hilda's high heels. The young lady's face was uncharacteristically red.
"Don't mind your feet, Eris."
"Ah! But, Mother's shoes—"
Hilda smiled indifferently. When she first learned to dance, she had been just as clumsy. But now was not the time to let Eris feel embarrassed for stepping on her partner—that would only make her avoid dancing altogether.
The best way to divert her attention was to keep feeding her new knowledge while ensuring her body didn't stop moving to the rhythm.
Ignoring the dull pain on the top of her foot, Hilda gently cut Eris off with a smile.
"So, what kind of dance is more suited for banquets?"
"I-I don't know! Huh?!"
Before Eris could finish her response, Hilda tightened her grip and pulled the distracted girl toward her.
Her free left hand lifted slightly, slender fingers pressing together before settling firmly on Eris' waist.
A tug.
Eris was drawn into her mother's embrace.
Hilda lowered her head slightly, meeting her daughter's gaze.
Eris blinked, startled by her mother's sudden boldness.
At that moment, a very obvious, sharp inhale came from the side.
Hilda glanced over with amusement.
Sylphiette's entire face was red, her ears trembling as she covered her eyes—though not completely. Her fingers were slightly parted, her russet eyes peeking through the gaps, watching Hilda's dance steps with a mix of awe and embarrassment.
Her body, however, betrayed her.
She wanted to learn.
Nearby, Rudeus' lips curled as his gaze flickered between Allen and Sylphiette, clearly scheming something.
And what was Allen doing?
He simply watched Eris and Hilda quietly, a faint smile on his lips.
No complicated emotions—just pure appreciation for the sight of Hilda teaching Eris. The warmth of the moment even overshadowed his usual habit of stealing glances at Sylphiette.
As for the dance itself, he recognized it. It resembled the quickstep and slow waltz from his past life. With his natural swordsmanship talent and body coordination, he could perfectly replicate it after just watching.
He had never learned it.
But he could dance it.
And he knew the name of this dance—one filled with close embraces, hand clasps, and intimate waist-holding, exuding ease and passion.
Its name was—
"Asuran Ballroom Dance—the Foxtrot."
"Also known as… the Dance of Love."
Hilda's voice was light and teasing as she shifted her gaze from Sylphiette's flushed face back to Eris.
Eris looked flustered. She had seen Edna demonstrate it before, but she had bolted from the classroom to skip the lesson. Her memory of it began and ended at "seen it once."
"Why is it called the 'Dance of Love'?"
Hilda smoothly "glided" to Eris' side, her body guiding Eris' movements as her arm led the girl into a spin.
The first sidestep was wide and quick, but the follow-up step was gentle—just a light tap of the toes against the floor.
Their skirts swayed.
Eris' feet landed precisely on top of Hilda's shoes each time.
Yet Hilda acted as if she didn't notice, continuing without pause.
"Because among nobles, this is how many marriages begin. Most are just political alliances, but to outsiders, it looks like a symbol of 'love.'"
Eris wasn't listening—this was clearly meant for Sylphiette's ears. Though her body moved under Hilda's lead, her growing anxiety over stepping on her mother's feet made her stiffen, her posture twisting awkwardly.
Allen, Sylphiette, and Rudeus were watching.
Her pride as a noble screamed in protest.
Just as she was about to forcibly break free using swordsmanship, Allen's voice drifted into her ears.
"A quick, wide step—use the Sword God style as reference. 'Swing' your leg decisively, thigh leading the calf, landing exactly where you want."
Eris' mind sharpened instantly. Half a year of training under him had honed their synergy. Her foot, hovering just ten centimeters above Hilda's shoe, twisted mid-air as she stepped back instead.
Hilda's eyes flickered with surprise, but her muscle memory kept her in sync, following Eris' movement with a matching wide step.
Their bodies remained close.
Allen's voice continued, rapid yet clear.
"Now, a light step back—think of the Water God style's preparatory stance. Feel where you want to 'deflect' to, then place your foot there gently. This isn't a slash—it's a parry. No force, no rush."
Eris didn't need him to finish. The moment he linked swordsmanship to dance, she understood.
Her other foot's toes brushed the floor in a smooth arc before settling into a comfortable, elegant stance.
Because Allen's Water God style was elegance.
As he often said: "If a sword can be elegant, even death can hold beauty."
Hilda's foot landed beside hers this time—no overlap.
Only their skirts collided—black, white, and fiery red swirling together in a dazzling burst of color before settling.
The hems fluttered against their calves as they came to a halt, still holding each other naturally.
As if nothing had changed.
A single beat of the dance.
Under Allen's guidance, Eris' initiative, and Hilda's cooperation—
It was done.
So simple.
Eris' eyes blazed with realization.
"Sword God style!"
A wide, forceful step forward.
Hilda followed seamlessly.
"Water God style!"
A retreating step, poised and controlled.
Hilda matched her again.
Another beat.
Again.
And again.
No further instructions were needed.
Mother and daughter danced—still a little rough, but now undeniably correct.
Like two butterflies, one large, one small.
Their crimson hair shimmered under the stained glass's twilight glow.
Note: So far this story is published up to chapter 245 on my patreon, go check it out and remember that if we reach the goal of 40 power stones I will publish the next chapter.