"Ah, so you were genuinely worried about my dancing skills. I thought you just didn’t like me."
"Oh, no, it’s not that. It’s just... I’m from a rural territory, so I’ve never really had the chance to dance before..."
Penelope trailed off, raising her hand to cool her flushed cheeks. She couldn’t shake the feeling that she was oversharing irrelevant details.
"I’m not confident, but I’ll give it a try. So, uh, what do I do now?"
"Just take my hand."
Placing her hand in Enrique’s, Penelope let him guide her. He skillfully placed his hand on her waist and began moving in time with the lively tune.
‘Ah...’
From the first step, Penelope felt her head spin. The tempo of the music was much faster than she had anticipated.
By the time they finished the piece, she was utterly exhausted.
‘I... somehow made it...’
Seeing the look of relief on her face, Enrique chuckled softly.
Penelope suddenly realized she was parched. Dancing had left her overheated and thirsty.
At that moment, she noticed a servant passing nearby carrying a tray of punch. The drink was a mix of lemon juice, ice, red wine, and syrup—perfect for parties.
"Could I have something to drink?" she asked.
"Of course. I could use something to drink myself."
Enrique signaled the servant, who brought the tray to them. Penelope downed a glass of punch in one go, the warmth spreading through her stomach. It must have been the red wine, even though it was diluted.
Enrique took a graceful sip from his glass, smiling again as he watched her.
Feeling her nerves dissipate, Penelope pouted slightly and asked, "Why do you keep laughing every time you look at me?"
"Because the Lady of Halo is so different from what I imagined."
"And what sort of preconceived notions did you have?"
"To be honest, I envisioned a shrewd and ambitious businesswoman."
"It seems my reputation in society paints me as a ruthless entrepreneur," Penelope replied with a wry smile.
Enrique laughed again, his reaction confirming her suspicions.
"If I’d known how charming you were, I would have sought you out sooner."
"..."
Penelope was struck speechless. Her face burned, turning crimson in an instant.
‘Charming? Is it really appropriate to say something like that to someone you’ve just met at a party?’
She opened her mouth to respond but hesitated, feeling her throat go dry again.
"May I have another glass of punch?"
"Of course."
Enrique motioned to the servant once more. Penelope accepted the glass and sipped it carefully this time, determined not to gulp it down too quickly.
Yet, despite her efforts, the glass was soon empty again after just a few small sips.
‘Strange. I barely drank anything, but the glass is already empty.’
A wave of confusion swept over her. Before she could dwell on it, the thirst returned.
Then, Enrique’s voice reached her ears.
"Would you like to move somewhere quieter to continue our conversation?"
"Oh, um... what?"
Penelope blinked, staring blankly at Enrique. His suggestion felt oddly loaded, yet something about it didn’t seem entirely real.
And her persistent thirst was becoming distracting.
‘Is it because I drank too quickly? My stomach feels strangely warm.’
"Forgive me, but Penelope has prior plans with me."
"...!"
Startled, Penelope flinched, her shoulders jerking. Rianel stood close by, watching the two of them with a calm but piercing gaze.
"Oh, you’re here?"
Penelope greeted him with a dazed expression, to which Rianel responded with a smooth smile.
"I saw you dancing. You did quite well," he remarked.
"...You’re teasing me, aren’t you?"
"With that level of skill, I believe you could dance with me as well."
When Rianel extended his hand to her, the chatter around them quieted. Penelope could feel the glances of noblewomen behind their fluttering fans.
It wasn’t surprising. Rianel, dressed in formal evening attire, stood out spectacularly in the ballroom. His broad shoulders, tall and lean figure, and handsome features made him a perfect fit for the outfit. His straight posture hinted at years of disciplined training as a noble.
Rianel spoke again.
"You danced with the young Viscount of Elrn, yet you won’t dance with me?"
"Well, um, you’ve already seen that I’m not great at dancing, haven’t you? I might step on your feet," Penelope replied, her voice tinged with nervousness.
Looking up at Rianel in a daze, she quickly shook herself from her thoughts and added cautiously.
Rianel’s lips curved into a smile as he lightly pulled her hand.
Before Penelope could react, she found herself being led back to the dance floor.
Enrique, watching them, shrugged and turned away, leaving Penelope awkwardly glancing at his retreating figure.
Rianel moved to block her line of sight, then asked, "What are you looking at?"
"Oh, um, the young Viscount of Elrn. He said he wanted to talk with me further, but I’m not sure what he meant by that."
Rianel’s expression turned incredulous.
"What do you think he meant, Penelope?"
"Well, it usually means interest, doesn’t it? That’s how it is in rural territories, at least. But this is the capital, so I thought it might mean something different..." she mumbled, trailing off.
Rianel stared at her for a moment before pulling her closer by the waist just as the music started.
"...!"
Penelope quickly moved her feet to match his lead.
After two turns and a sequence of separating and reuniting steps, Penelope finally regained her composure.
At that unexpected moment, Rianel spoke with an air of nonchalance.
"It seems the young Viscount of Elrn is quite interested in you. Am I perhaps interfering with something between the two of you?"
Rianel’s gaze pierced into hers. Penelope felt her words catch in her throat.
It was the first time she’d met Rianel’s eyes from this close, and it left her strangely flustered. Her cheeks flushed, and her entire body tensed.
Looking away from his intense gaze, she muttered, "No, it’s not that... If that’s his intention, then I should refuse. After all, it’s probably not me he’s interested in, but the Halo territory."
"It could be interest in you, Penelope."
Rianel’s voice was low, almost a murmur. His sharp, cold eyes gave no indication of his thoughts.
Penelope lowered her gaze and let out a soft hum.
"Falling for someone at first sight, especially a lady from a rural estate who just arrived? I’m not naive enough to believe that."
"You’re far too harsh on yourself, Penelope. You’re much more charming than you think. And, of course, quite adorable."
Penelope bit her lower lip, her entire face and even her neck growing hot. She was starting to feel lightheaded, likely from the wine in the punch.
‘Why does my body feel so out of sorts from just two glasses of punch?’
Normally, she could handle a glass or two of wine during meals without issue. This strange reaction left her bewildered and uneasy.
Perhaps it wasn’t the punch. Perhaps it was the way Rianel’s unwavering gaze seemed to bore into her.
"By the way... why do you keep calling me Penelope so familiarly?"
As Penelope raised her head, her vision spun. The room blurred, and her stomach churned.
Just as her legs gave out beneath her, a large hand caught her by the shoulder.
"...!"
"Are you all right?"
The low voice calling her name sounded distant.
Penelope looked up at Rianel before tightly shutting her eyes.
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"I feel... nauseous..."
The words barely left her lips before she retched. What came out wasn’t just the punch she’d consumed.
Covering her mouth with her hand, Penelope was overwhelmed by shame and confusion.
And then, the gasps around her reached a crescendo.
"Aah!"
"Call a doctor! Quickly!"
"Someone’s dying!"
The nobles’ panicked cries rang through the hall, and the waltz came to an abrupt stop.
‘Why are they all looking at me like that?’
Through her hazy vision, Penelope glanced down at her hand. It was stained dark red.
It wasn’t the punch.
It was blood.
‘Poison... This is poison... Who...?’