The Villain's Retirement-Chapter 43: Dance (3)

This time, the guests began to disperse—only to return moments later with new partners in tow. Of course, they alone remained unchanged. Elara’s eyes tracked the knights repositioning themselves in the grand hall, blocking possible exits. Even when she wasn’t, they were treating her like a criminal. However, she had already expected this.

"Lady Elara," Ard then said.

She turned to him with a practiced smile. But her eyes were almost hollow.

"Yes, my lord?" she replied evenly, her attention divided.

"May I ask you something?"

Without waiting for an answer, he continued, brows knitting slightly.

"What exactly is the purpose of this dance?"

Ard also had noticed the movements in their surroundings and the stares they had been getting. But he was thinking of something different.

’They are really eyeing me, aren’t they?’ He clicked his tongue inwardly. ’Even the knights had joined in. They even changed their positions to block the exits. I had enough of this gathering.’

Ard had totally misunderstood.

"The purpose?" Elara echoed softly. Her attention never fully left the crowd but her thoughts moved quickly. Truthfully, she was not entirely certain herself. More often than not, dances served as excuses—polite façades for networking, for exchanging words that were not meant to be overheard, for arranging conversations meant to continue later.

"It is usually for networking," she said calmly, "and for creating opportunities for private discussions... ones that make future meetings easier."

Elara gave her answer honestly.

’So that’s what everyone is doing. This won’t end until I danced with everyone?’ Ard thought.

Noticing the crease in his eyebrows, Elara felt baffled. In her position right now, it was better to stay with him. And now, for some reason, she also realized—somewhat unexpectedly—that Ard did not appear to be enjoying the dance at all. She hoped that was the case. Thus, she brazed herself and asked lightly, "Would you care to step outside with me for a moment, my lord?"

Ard gazed at her. Then he slowed his steps, the music dulling behind them.

"Is that... allowed?"

’...Oh.’

Elara arrived at a quiet conclusion. This man truly was far more innocent than she had expected.

The thought amused her—and, unexpectedly, relieved her. At the very least, one thing was certain: he had no desire to keep dancing.

"It is perfectly acceptable," she said smoothly, meeting his gaze. "However, many will still seek you out for a dance. In moments like this, it is important to make it clear that you prefer... a more private time with your partner."

Elara scarcely believed the words leaving her own lips. Yet if she wished to leave this place without incident—and continue her assignment—this was the only path open to her.

With a faint smile touching her lips, she was careful with her delivery, letting the meaning linger between each phrase. She stepped even closer to draw his full attention, well within his personal space, ensuring nothing else in the room mattered but her presence.

Ard looked at her. Elara’s head was level his neck and right now, he could see the ample, snow-white curves of her chest, causing Leylin’s heart to race.

"Lady Elara," Ard then said, voice low.

"Staying longer would only invite misunderstandings."

Elara didn’t wait. She began placing her hand lightly on his sleeve, just long enough to make him understand as she led them towards the exit.

"Follow my lead," she said softly. "When they ask, just tell them you need a moment of privacy."

They had barely taken a step toward the exit when a familiar man stopped them just before the door. Sir Faller and other knights stood in their path.

"Lord Ard."

Elara stiffened. Faller was one of the most powerful knights in the Duchy. To commonfolk, citizens, and to criminals, he is feared and respected. However, Ard met the knight’s steady gaze without flinching.

"Sir Faller," he said firmly, "I’m leaving with my partner. We need a moment away from the hall."

Elara’s looked down at the floor while her hand remained lightly on his sleeve. She didn’t need her eyes to look to the knights. They were looking at her. Even the nobles or at least those who recognize her. But now, they were all looking at Ard.

Faller studied Ard for a long, tense beat.

Now that they stood face to face to each other, the old knight replayed the scenes of his subordinates dying right before his eyes while he couldn’t do anything. On the other hand, this man who was also there only watched.

The knight who had survived with Faller was currently standing at the Hall too. Just like him, it was still fresh in his memory what kind of entity the black-haired young man. Moreover, they hardly know him and his tendencies.

’Captain, do not provoke him.’ He only thought to himself.

Fortunately—

Faller glanced upward and the Duke and Duchess met his gaze with a composed nod. They had already talked about this beforehand. Whatever would happen wouldn’t be inside the grand hall, it would be outside, and they had already prepared for it.

The knight slowly stepped aside.

"...Very well," the knight said at last.

As Ard and Elara departed, mixed reactions came from the crowd.

"How foolish," a noble scoffed quietly from the crowd. It was Ratsworth. "He doesn’t even realize what is happening. Just one dance and his low upbringing is already showing."

"He’s too young. I thought he was different but he was bewitched after just a single dance!"

"Did you see that?" A man nudged his friend and laughed together, "He left with the very first girl who approached him."

"Not even a glance at anyone else," the other replied, shaking his head. "A commoner’s heart is always predictable. And how could she fall for a traitor? His father is a fugitive."

Gradually, the Grand Hall also started to get empty. The sudden appearance of the traitor’s daughter had unsettled many, and now, with the gathering’s centerpiece gone, those who had lingered in the shadows began to disperse—some subtly, others openly signaling one another as they departed.

Above, at the balcony, they were discussing something.

"What will we do, Your Graces?" the Margrave asked cautiously.

The Duke’s eyes narrowed as he surveyed the thinning crowd. After a deliberate pause, he spoke, his voice low and resolute:

"We go to war."