As Rudeus and Sylphie watched, Hilda's chest heaved. She took a deep breath, her words coming out in a slightly jumbled order.
"We've covered the dance steps for the ball, and the etiquette for the final pose. Now… all that's left is… the etiquette for inviting a partner to dance. This part is simple, so I saved it for last…"
She tucked a stray strand of hair, loosened from the dance, behind her ear. She looked a bit weary, as if from the exertion.
"Extend your hand… before you, and bow to extend the invitation."
Eris looked at Hilda's downcast face, then followed her gaze to the floor.
There, on Hilda's shoes, were the fresh scuff marks she had just made, painfully obvious.
The young lady's face suddenly filled with panic.
"D-did I hurt your feet after all, Mother?"
Hilda smiled and shook her head.
"No, not at all. It's alright, Eris. Let me demonstrate the invitation for you…"
Eris quickly let go of Hilda's hand. Her red eyes darted left and right, then lit up as she saw Alan standing silently to the side.
She crossed the distance between them in a single step, grabbing Alan's hand before Ghislaine, Sylphie, or Rudeus could react.
"A-Alan knows the dance steps! I'll have him demonstrate! I can never even touch him when we practice swordsmanship! I definitely won't be able to step on his feet!"
She then turned and stared intently at Alan.
He looked down at Eris's hand on his, remaining silent for a moment before speaking.
"…Inviting a partner to dance? It is indeed simple. I have seen it done before… I can demonstrate. My form may not be perfect, so it would be best for Madam to correct it afterward."
"Great!"
As Eris cheered, Hilda froze for a moment. Then, with an air of perfect composure, she looked at Alan and Eris, gave a slight nod, and retreated to stand beside Sylphie.
Her steps were a little unsteady.
Everyone's attention was now on Alan in the center of the hall.
Including Eris, who stood opposite him.
Alan was silent for a moment before speaking, his instructions precise and data-driven, a hallmark of his Water God Style.
But his words carefully emphasized his position as an observer.
"The distance between the two partners should be about 90 centimeters, roughly one and a half of a normal person's steps."
With a twist of his wrist, Alan slipped his hand out of Eris's grasp.
He took a step back.
The distance was perfect.
"Then, bow. The angle is the same as a normal greeting."
He bowed at a 45-degree angle.
"Extend your left hand, palm open, at the same height as your chin. This makes it easy for the lady to accept the invitation with her dominant right hand."
He extended his hand, palm up, in front of Eris.
"Finally…"
"Place your right hand on your chest in a gesture of invitation."
He placed his open right hand on his chest.
Precise.
Methodical.
Impeccable.
Utterly elegant.
"It's roughly like this. Madam, if…"
Before he could finish, a grin suddenly spread across Eris's face.
She slapped her hand onto his.
"Okay!"
Then, she yanked the stunned Alan closer and eagerly began the 'Foxtrot' again.
The young lady hadn't had her fill of fun yet!
And besides, she wanted to dance with Alan!
A look of resignation crossed his face, but his eyes held a fond indulgence as he gently placed his hand on Eris's waist, accommodating the willful yet adorable little lioness.
Just like all the times he had given in on the rooftop.
They stepped, they moved.
They danced.
Their feet were in perfect sync.
No further verbal cues were needed; this was the rapport they had built from practicing swordsmanship together.
The tap, tap of dance steps echoed once more.
Rudeus watched with his mouth agape, marveling again at how much Alan spoiled Eris like an older brother.
Sylphie, however, watched the joyous expression on Eris's face under her mane of fiery red hair and also wore a look of helpless indulgence.
Though Eris was older than her, sometimes her willful moments made her seem just like a child.
But…
She's so full of life, isn't she?
She smiled softly.
Then, her expression suddenly froze.
Drip.
It was a tiny sound, completely masked by the footfalls of the dance, yet it struck Sylphie's heart with the force of a hammer.
Eris's steps were heavy, completely drowning out that 'raindrop' of a sound. By all rights, she shouldn't have heard it.
But Sylphie imagined it nonetheless.
Because…
That 'raindrop' fell right in her peripheral vision.
Though her eyes were on Alan and Eris…
She had been keeping a close watch on Hilda beside her.
Sylphie turned her head, stunned.
In her line of sight…
A silent tear escaped Hilda's eye, slid down her cheek, and dripped from her chin.
The tears formed a continuous line.
Hilda…
…was crying.
She stared blankly at Alan and Eris dancing, her expression dazed.
That simple etiquette for inviting a partner to dance…
Alan had 'of course' done it correctly.
Absolutely perfectly.
That was the unique invitation style of the Boreas family.
But…
It wasn't commonly used with other nobles.
A typical noble wouldn't place their right hand on their chest at the end, but would keep it behind their back.
Why?
Because…
Their family crest wasn't the 'Iron Heart.'
They had no need to offer the 'Heart' of Boreas to anyone.
A distant memory surged up from the depths of her heart.
The figures of the two dancers before her seemed to transform.
Her gaze traveled back in time, like an observer, landing on a moment thirteen years ago.
It was an ordinary evening.
And yet, an extraordinary one.
The two people dancing in this very hall…
Were Philip and herself.
"Why do you place your hand on your chest? It's a little strange, Philip…"
"This is the unique invitation etiquette of the Boreas family."
"Oh? Why this posture?"
The brown-haired Philip, just a boy then, raised an eyebrow. His eyes crinkled into a smile, gentle and filled with a fondness that she hadn't quite understood at the time.
He said.
"Because of the 'Iron Heart.'"
"The Iron Heart?"
"The Boreas family crest, Hilda. I invited you to this hall…"
Philip raised a finger above his head, pointing to the sky.
Her younger self looked up in surprise.
Before her eyes…
The sunset glow was magnificent, incomparably brilliant.
A silhouette against the flow of time.
The Iron Heart.
Beating its wings.
In her ear, Philip's words fell.
"…because I wanted to show you…"
"The 'Heart' of Boreas."
Her younger self looked down, stunned.
Philip, his right hand on his chest, was offering her his other hand.
He didn't put it behind his back.
Because…
He was offering the 'Heart' of Boreas to her.
Hilda stared blankly at Alan dancing with Eris.
She reached up and wiped the tears from her face.
The truth she had been subconsciously avoiding, filled with fear and uncertainty, unable to face head-on.
The truth whose possibility was infinitesimally small, yet undeniably real.
In a way that skipped all investigation…
In a completely unexpected manner…
With a stroke of immense luck…
And a heart full of hope…
It crashed into the sea of her mind.
Brown hair, deep gray eyes, a home tutor specially invited by Philip, familiar with the dances of the royal court and nobility.
And a dance invitation gesture exclusive to the Boreas family.
Could a 'normal' adventurer…
…also possess…
…the 'Heart' of Boreas?
Alan?
Alan Boreas Greyrat?
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