Yustia Banquet (15)
“Serena.”
Zeke knelt on one knee before her.
Serena lightly placed her hand on his fingertips.
With that, Zeke rose to his feet, his expression as impassive as ever.
Thump.
Thump.
One week earlier.
Serena recalled practicing social dances with Zeke.
No matter how much they rehearsed, his dancing never improved.
When he first suggested performing a sword dance together, she’d been utterly dumbfounded.
So, she’d asked him right back.
“A sword dance?”
“Indeed. A martial performance with swords.”
That’s not what I meant!
“I know what it is. But it’s a dance where you swing swords around.”
“True enough.”
Zeke nodded with a perfectly straight face.
She’d known he lacked common sense, but this was beyond excessive.
Serena’s head throbbed.
“...So you’re telling me to go out there in front of the Yustia nobles, pick up a sword, and dance with it? That’d ruin me in high society!”
“Hm? No need for swords.”
“A baguette won’t work either!!!”
Serena shouted in exasperation.
Of course, the two of them wielding baguettes in the middle of the banquet hall for a sword dance would be quite the spectacle.
The Yustias would be baffled, and it’d certainly draw all eyes—perhaps even more than intended.
Just imagine: solemn faces flinging breadcrumbs as they moved. How ridiculous it would look.
But that wouldn’t be the end of it. The whispers in high society afterward would be the real problem.
Serena shuddered at the mere thought.
She’d probably end up with nicknames like “Slice-of-Bread Princess” or “Baguette Lady Serena Yeasty.”
All her efforts to publicly declare him her savior would be overshadowed by the absurdity.
There were ways to attract attention that suited the occasion—and ways that didn’t.
Swinging baguettes at a ball was utterly beyond the pale by any standard of decorum.
“Baguette? Why bring up bread all of a sudden? Hungry?”
Zeke asked in return.
“Yes, hold a baguette instead of a sword. No nobles to offend there.”
Serena’s face hardened as she mimicked his voice in a dry tone.
“That’s not what you meant!?”
“Hmph. The Yohayden youngest lady has quite the imagination.”
Zeke replied with a look of utter disbelief.
No, you’re the one carrying a baguette instead of a sword everywhere! I don’t want to hear that from you!
Already bruised from countless stepped-on toes, Serena was on edge.
She puffed out her cheeks.
Judging that more explanation was needed, Zeke spoke in a soothing tone.
“I heard your plan. Our goal is to provoke the Yustias, no?”
Her cheeks deflated with a hiss as her mood lifted slightly.
Am I really this easy? she wondered, but she listened intently anyway.
“...Yes, that’s true.”
“A normal dance won’t do. It must overwhelm spectators with beauty, hold their gaze without falter, and reveal movements impossible to underestimate. That’s why we dance.”
“Right...”
“A sword dance fits perfectly.”
“Even so... now, at this point...”
Seeing her hesitate, Zeke dangled bait she couldn’t ignore.
“And a sword dance ties into the Heavenly Flow Sword you’ll learn going forward.”
“Heavenly Flow Sword!”
Serena’s eyes widened.
“Yes. It’s founded on the principle of softness conquering hardness. Yielding suppleness overcomes rigid strength. It’s a sword that beguiles and overwhelms with beauty. The opponent, entranced by its flow, never notices the blade at their throat.”
This was the first time he’d spoken to her about the sword itself.
“Thus, the Heavenly Flow Sword’s essence is the Illusion Sword. It’s intimately linked to dance.”
She was tempted, but her face soon stiffened again.
“...Instructor. Do you remember I’ve never properly learned the sword...?”
As she said, she’d only just begun sensing and emitting mana. Swordsmanship? Not once.
And now, teach it with a week left?
Can I even keep up?
“Yes. So we’ll accelerate.”
“H-how?”
“I once said your body doesn’t suit the sword, so you must wield mana to control it.”
“Yes.”
Unlike during their social dance practice, Zeke brimmed with confidence.
“This time, I’ll control your body directly.”
“My body?”
“Not easy, but in a week... we can mimic it well enough.”
“Th-then what do I do?”
“Trust me.”
That seems simple enough?
As that thought crossed her face, Zeke warned gravely.
“Don’t take it lightly. You’ll learn how hard it is to trust someone completely.”
I’m not great at it myself.
Zeke, ever distrustful of others, figured this might be harsh for her.
But she had a kind soul. A pushover, simply put.
She’d surpass him in trusting those she bonded with.
And controlling her body directly would make her a tool—like his sword.
Once she surrendered full control, no matter how intimately he moved her, his instincts wouldn’t see her as a threat.
Finally, escape from social dance hell.
With profound relief, Zeke began drilling her.
Gulp.
And now, one week later.
Serena had accepted Zeke’s words and trained in the sword dance.
Only through practice did she grasp what he meant by trust.
Entrusting yourself wholly to another was, as he said, no simple matter.
Like walking a strange path blindfolded, relying on their hand.
Stones ahead, enemies lurking.
Suppress your defenses. Trust Zeke.
Kill your instincts. Absurd.
Every glance, breath, fingertip—surrendered to him.
No reclaiming control. Abandon everything. Terrifying.
Like a doll stripped of senses.
Yet Serena succeeded in that daunting act.
A sword dance bare-handed.
No blade, no baguette.
One might question if it even qualified.
But all who saw it would call it a sword dance.
Inevitably so.
“Instructor.”
“Yes.”
“I’ll trust you.”
“I won’t harm you, Serena.”
His assurance eased her heart.
As Zeke and Serena stepped to the ballroom’s center, nobles subtly yielded space.
It felt like enemy territory, just the two of them.
But Serena found strange comfort there.
The instructor’s by my side.
She felt his mana envelop her.
Clear, pure mana.
Linking delicately to her body, gently urging it.
Serena closed her eyes, yielding her will entirely.
The sword dance began.
Like a ritual salute, hands extended in mirrored poise.
Fingertips quivered gracefully.
Softly beginning, they parted domains, then intertwined.
Sharp, dazzling, beautiful.
Amid unfamiliar motions, Serena felt exhilarated.
Why does this feel so good?
She moved as he swung, her body bending to his intent.
Powerless, yet deeply reassured.
It’s like the instructor’s fully dominating and conquering me.
Passive, yet not.
Her will utterly quelled—but by her own choice and courage.
A thrilling taboo sense soaked her mind.
No weapons in their hands, yet an illusion of blades at their fingertips.
Nobles, paired and dancing, froze to watch.
Movements blooming at the banquet’s heart.
An unseen dance—novelty gripped them.
“Wh-what is that...?”
“A dance... I think...?”
“I’ve never seen it. Why that...?”
Fluid motions like flowers unfurling against the music, petals scattering brilliantly.
All were captivated, unable to look away.
“Oh my...”
“What dance is that...?”
“So beautiful...”
Ladies sparkled, entranced.
Iriel was no exception.
After Serena, will he do this with me?
That unity, that beauty—can he create it with me?
Envy stirred, but the promise of her turn quenched it.
“Beautiful...”
Iriel murmured unconsciously, watching Zeke and Serena.