Lathel had no idea what Alex had just done. He glanced toward the entrance and sighed internally. 'Protagonist's pissed. He's definitely gonna try something.'
He clicked his tongue. Of course Alex was interested in Catrina—he didn't want anyone near her.
'Well, at least this speeds things up. If he's jealous, he'll chase her harder.' Lathel felt oddly pleased with himself.
System: […]
"Thank you, Aunt Catrina," Lathel said with a smile.
Catrina sighed softly. "I'm truly sorry, Lathel. I've turned your birthday banquet into such a mess."
"Hahaha… It's fine. This was just a formality anyway. I don't really have any family here, only you and…"
He trailed off, glancing toward Arina—who stood with her arms crossed, glaring at him as though she wanted to reduce him to ashes.
Catrina's heart skipped. Her cheeks flushed, something warm flickering in her eyes.
Lathel frowned, confused. Then it hit him.
'Wait. Is she already in love with Alex?'
That made sense. Alex had been living at her house for two years. Feelings develop.
When she scolded Alex earlier, she was probably protecting him—making Lathel think she was on his side so he wouldn't retaliate.
'Classic heroine move. Always protecting the protagonist. She almost had me fooled.'
He wasn't mad. If anything, he was relieved.
The faster the heroines fell for Alex, the faster he could finish this damn script.
"Aunt Catrina," He said aloud, "I'm a bit tired, so I'd like to rest. Please, enjoy the party. Everyone, eat and drink as you wish."
He turned to leave—but suddenly, a soft, warm hand grasped his.
"Lathel!" Catrina called out, her face flushed, her eyes filled with a faint spark of hope.
Though confused, Lathel turned back and asked patiently, "What is it, Aunt Catrina?"
"Would you... dance with me?" The words came out barely above a whisper, like they'd taken all her courage.
Lathel blinked. 'She's really going this far to protect Alex?'
Watching her force herself like this—just to keep him from retaliating—made something twist in his chest. Envy, maybe.
He knew what she was doing—trying to make him forget what happened, to stop him from going after Alex.
Not that he would anyway. Alex needed to live. The heroines needed to fall for him. That was the whole point.
Only then could Lathel finish this script and move on.
Still... if she was offering, he wasn't stupid enough to refuse.
Lathel nodded. "But I don't know how to dance."
"I… I can teach you," Catrina murmured shyly. "It's simple."
"Mother!" Arina's voice cracked like a whip. "Why are you touching him?!"
Catrina's eyes flashed. "You and Alex ruined his birthday. The least I can do is apologize on your behalf."
"Since you clearly won't, I will. What's wrong with that?"
"But…" Arina faltered, unable to find a retort.
Catrina sighed softly. Holding the bouquet in one arm, she gently took Lathel's hand with the other and led him toward the balcony.
"Mother! You—" Arina's voice rose, but when she saw Catrina completely ignoring her, she stomped the floor in frustration before storming off, pouting in anger.
Catrina brought Lathel out onto the wide balcony. He looked at her, confused. "Aunt Catrina, Arina… she—"
Catrina smiled apologetically. "I'm sorry, Lathel. Arina's just upset right now. Letting her stay would've only made things worse. Have I disappointed you?"
"No!" Lathel smiled. "Not at all. It's just… are we going to dance here?"
Music from the hall below drifted up faintly, soft and distant.
Magic lamps glowed around them, casting warm light across the balcony.
Moonlight caught in Catrina's golden hair. She looked... radiant. Almost unreal.
"What are you staring at?" Catrina asked softly, her cheeks coloring.
"An angel." The word slipped out before he could stop it. "I mean—nothing."
He wanted to slap himself. Catrina was too beautiful—the kind of beautiful that short-circuited a brain that had been single for thirty-plus years.
Yeah. Thirty years. No girlfriend. Just him and his left hand, his most faithful companion.
Catrina's laugh was soft, musical. "It's quieter here. No prying eyes."
Lathel nodded; of course, he understood. After all, she was still one of the heroines destined to marry the male lead. If anyone saw her dancing with him now, how could the protagonist ever accept her again?
But Catrina's thoughts were different. She simply wanted this beautiful moment to belong to her and Lathel alone.
She gently set the colorful bouquet down on the table, then stepped closer. One hand took his, the other rested lightly on his shoulder. Her voice was soft and kind. "Let me guide you."
Lathel froze, realizing how close they were—close enough for him to catch her scent.
He breathed in without thinking. Her scent filled his lungs.
Wildflowers and morning dew, wrapped in something sweet—amber, maybe. It wasn't just perfume. It was... her.
Gentle. Elegant. Unforgettable.
Catrina's face turned red as Lathel leaned slightly closer, his face nearing hers.
She, too, could smell the faint trace of his cologne, mixed with the masculine warmth of his breath brushing against her skin.
"La… Lathel, you…"
"Ah!" Realizing how close he had gotten, Lathel hurriedly tried to step back—but she held him firmly in place, confusing him even more.
"Place your hand... on my waist."
Lathel froze. Alex probably hadn't even touched her yet, and here he was about to—
If Alex found out, all four limbs. Broken. Guaranteed.
Before he could refuse, Catrina took his hand and placed it on her waist herself.
Soft. Warm. The curve fitting perfectly against his palm. His fingers squeezed on instinct.
"Ah..." The sound escaped her lips—breathy, trembling.
Lathel's brain short-circuited. "I—sorry—"
Catrina bit her lip, her face crimson, ears burning red.
'Fuck. Is she mad?' Panic shot through him. 'What if she tells Alex to kill me?!'
Why did his hand squeeze? Why?!
"It's fine. Just... follow my lead." Her voice was barely steady as she started guiding him through the steps.
Her composure was incredible. Lathel couldn't help but admire it.
'Alex is one lucky bastard. Where else do you find a woman like this? Gentle, strong, willing to sacrifice everything for the guy she loves.'
The envy lasted maybe two seconds before fading. He followed her lead, clumsy but trying.
Under the moonlight, the two of them danced—bathed in the faint glow of the magic lamps that surrounded the balcony. The scene was so breathtakingly romantic that it almost felt unreal.
Catrina watched his face, eyes soft, wishing this moment would never end.
Lathel's thoughts were... different.
'Holy shit, dancing is hard. I've stepped on her foot like five times. Is Alex gonna break my legs tomorrow?'
He shuffled through the steps, half-dancing, half-surviving.
He knew the type. Protagonists like Alex? Insult them once, they wipe out your whole family.
The music stopped.
Catrina blinked, like she was waking from a dream. Her hand tightened around his. "One more?"
Lathel's legs were shaking. He forced a smile. "I think that's enough for today. You should head home—it's late."
Her smile didn't quite reach her eyes. "You're right. Rest well, Lathel. If you need anything... come find me."
He nodded and got the hell out of there.
Dancing with a beautiful woman? Great. Dancing with the protagonist's future wife? Death sentence.
He was not dying before finishing this script.
Catrina watched him go, something hollow opening in her chest.
She lifted her hand to her nose. His scent still lingered there—masculine, warm, mixed with sweat.
She sighed and walked to the bouquet, hugging it close, trying to fill the emptiness inside.
Then she froze.
Something was hidden in the flowers.
Her fingers closed around a small box.
"This is..."
She opened it.
Her breath caught. Tears spilled down her cheeks—but she was smiling, radiant and disbelieving.