* * *

If Lady Pamela, who first taught me ballroom dancing, had witnessed this, she would have cried out in despair at seeing such a stiff, awkward performance from someone so physically impressive.

“Stop laughing.”

Hernan, evidently mortified, trembled slightly as he lowered his head.

Who would’ve thought that the composed Duke had so many weak points?

Catching my breath, I wiped my eyes and stood.

“Alright, alright… I’ll stop. You won’t need to do turns at the ball anyway.”

Turns were strictly for the female partner.

With the basic steps covered, I motioned to the musicians to restart the piece.

“Now, let’s switch directions. Since you’ll be taking the male partner’s role, let’s practice that position.”

Having been led through the dance once, Hernan performed much better this time.

Though still slightly awkward, his hand on my waist felt more natural, and he was no longer gripping my hand like a vice.

“Yes, one step at a time, as if drawing a line.”

The improvement was noticeable.

As we danced, I hummed lightly to the melody.

Hernan, now more relaxed, even managed to guide me with confidence.

“……”

But something about this piece felt unusually long.

The awkward silence grew, and I began to notice the sound of my heartbeat—though I couldn’t tell if it was mine or Hernan’s.

And then, that scent. I had tried to ignore it, but it tickled my senses again. I

t was the same fragrance that always made me falter.

Despite my protests about Hernan using pheromones, he insisted he never had and claimed I shouldn’t be able to sense anything as a beta.

I wasn’t gullible enough to believe his excuses.

Yet, by his logic, why could I alone detect his scent?

Even when I’d asked other alphas, like Irina or Anton, they’d only offered vague responses.

“It’s not a scent, exactly… It’s just unpleasant when another alpha gets too close.”

Anton also gave the same answer as Irina.

Even when he asked omegas from outside, like merchants visiting the castle, the responses were just as vague.

“The Grand Duke is very meticulous about managing his pheromones… I don’t think I’ve ever noticed them before. Sometimes I catch a hint from the knight by his side, though. But even if you could sense it… someone with such potent pheromones as the Grand Duke would likely affect your body before you could analyze it….”

A scent only I can detect, imperceptible to alphas, omegas, or even other betas.

I had tried to dismiss it as a figment of my imagination, something unscientific, but being close to him again made it impossible to ignore.

The clamminess between our clasped hands, the subtle tension in the hand resting on my waist—it was too much.

I blurted out anything to break the silence.

“Usually, a single piece isn’t this long—”

Our voices overlapped at the worst possible moment.

“Have I done something wrong?”
“Oh!”

Right then, the seemingly never-ending melody came to an abrupt end.

“Seriously, after dragging on forever, now it decides to stop out of nowhere?”

Internally grumbling, I realized it was no use crying over spilled milk.

“Please, go ahead,” I said quickly, stepping back to give him the floor.

But Hernan shook his head.

“No, Viscount. You first.”

Ugh. Insisting on “no, you go first” would only make things more awkward.

Relenting, I nodded and spoke.

“Usually, a single piece doesn’t last this long. They typically end much sooner.”

I gestured lightly as if to say, “Your turn now.”

“You’ve seemed distracted for a while now, so I was worried I might have made a mistake.”

Had I laughed too much earlier?

It seemed like needless worry, so I shook my head firmly.

“No, you didn’t make any mistakes. Just keep doing exactly as you did this time.”

Anyway, anyone who stood this close to Hernan and faced him directly wouldn’t be able to stay composed for long.

As long as he didn’t stride around so self-assuredly, no one would notice anything unusual.

“Is this the end?” Hernan asked, carefully releasing the hand he had been gripping so tightly.

For someone who had been visibly impatient for this to be over, he now seemed oddly reluctant, his expression tinged with regret.

What was he even thinking?

For that matter, what was I thinking?

My mind was a jumbled mess, and before I knew it, words I didn’t mean escaped my lips.

“How about we practice one more piece?”

My chest thudded as if I’d had a drink.

Hoping it was just my current condition acting up, I signaled to the musician to begin again.

As the new melody started, I focused intently on the floor, avoiding his gaze.

I felt like something inside me was malfunctioning.

---

“Hah…”

Returning to his office after their grueling dance practice, Hernan looked more exhausted than ever.

A man who could endure relentless campaigns and grueling overwork without so much as a complaint was now utterly drained by one dance rehearsal.

Watching from the corner of the office, Anton barely suppressed a chuckle.

If he laughed here, he might be banished to some remote mountain again.

Anton, who had been relishing the joys of city life during his rare breaks, wouldn’t allow that to happen.

He had been methodically touring Velon’s best bakeries and restaurants—from Gregory’s Bakery to Wind and Wander Tavern—but there were still so many places left to visit.

Hold it in.

Laugh where the Duke can’t see you.

Biting his lip, Anton held back as Hernan sighed, brushing his hand over his forehead.

“Once again, I’ve shown a pitiful side of myself.”

Everything had gone more or less according to plan—until that mishap at the end.

The composure Hernan had so painstakingly maintained while luring Jurgen to Velon was nowhere to be found. Now, it was full-blown damage control.

He had been systematically quelling political unrest within Velon using the resources of Yudenet, but he hadn’t expected Jurgen to suggest attending a ball.

Really?

Of all things, a ball?

A place teeming with people and devoid of any practical benefit or entertainment?

He had wanted to refuse outright, but Jurgen had been adamant.

“No. For the sake of our future endeavors, we need to manage our public image starting now. If anything, it’s already overdue.”

Just as Jurgen had proven his worth on the battlefield, he argued that they needed to solidify their place socially and politically.

His firm stance left no room for negotiation, so Hernan had no choice but to accept.

His only small victory was convincing Jurgen to get a suit made alongside his own.

It had taken considerable effort to make him accept even that.

The man who usually balked at gifts had reluctantly taken it, leaving Hernan feeling oddly grateful.

It was a pathetic triumph, a pleading from someone not even yet in a romantic relationship.

If Jurgen wanted, Hernan would give him the entire duchy.

And yet the gift that had brought him the most joy was a humble snowberry pie from a rustic village home.

A man harder to win over than any who desired wealth or power.

Hernan’s first strategy to capture Jurgen’s heart had been to earn his sympathy—presenting himself as a helpless, forlorn boy-king stranded on a lonely cliff.

But Jurgen’s resistance had been far stronger than expected, forcing him to abandon the plan altogether.

* * *