The second day of the week followed the same routine, packed with history and etiquette lessons. But this time, there was an unexpected twist.
To the players’ collective surprise—and dread—they were introduced to dancing lessons.
"Oh no," Evan groaned, slumping dramatically into his seat. "I knew this day would come. I could feel it in my—"
"Don’t you dare say ’dancing shoes,’" Lei interrupted, shooting him a warning glare.
The instructor clapped his hands sharply to grab their attention. "Focus! Dancing is an integral part of etiquette at formal events.
While no one expects you to perform like professionals, you must at least avoid tripping over yourselves—or worse, someone else."
"Define ’worse,’" Zack muttered under his breath.
"Falling into the dessert table," Pierre deadpanned, earning a few snickers.
Luckily, almost everyone had dancing experience since it was common to dance at weddings or other celebrations on Earth.
Arlon was, once again, the odd one out. So he needed to try extra hard.
However, there was a second issue this time. The male-to-female ratio wasn’t even.
The only two pairs were Pierre and Lei; Evan and Carmen. Arlon, Zack, Carole, June, and Maria didn’t have a dance partner for the party.
The players called it a party but it was more like a celebratory- and political -banquet, so there would be talking and dancing.
That was why they needed pairs. Arlon didn’t actually care, so he was ready to go alone.
Meanwhile, Zack was grappling with his own predicament. He glanced at Carole, hesitating.
He’d come a long way in understanding the reality of this world, but his feelings were still a jumble.
After an awkward silence, he finally blurted out, "Carole, do you... want to pair up for the banquet?"
Carole blinked in surprise. "Oh, um, sure. That sounds nice."
Maria leaned over to June, whispering loud enough for everyone to hear, "So, which one of us gets the masked guy?"
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Arlon still hadn’t removed his mask in front of the others.
He, catching the comment, sighed. "I’m going alone."
"Heh! Do you really think you will go alone?" Maria said allusively.
---
The actual dancing lesson was chaos, to say the least.
"Step left, not right!" the instructor barked as Evan accidentally stepped on Carmen’s foot for the third time.
"Your left or mine?" Evan asked, looking genuinely confused.
"It’s the same left!" Carmen groaned.
By the end of the lesson, most of them had mastered the basics—or at least managed not to step on each other too much.
"Well," the instructor said, eyeing the group critically, "you’re… adequate."
"High praise," Evan muttered.
As they left the lesson, Maria nudged Arlon again. "So, still planning to go solo?"
"Absolutely."
"We’ll see," she said cryptically, a mischievous glint in her eye.
And with that, the second day of the week ended—though the memory of Arlon’s "battle stance" dancing lingered in everyone’s minds.
---
Wednesday came.
The players had no lessons that day, which felt like a small victory. However, the sense of triumph was short-lived as the reality of the banquet loomed over them.
Since the players couldn’t attend events at night due to the system’s restrictions, the banquet was scheduled for the day.
Meanwhile, Kelta was in a state of chaos. Administrators that weren’t in Kelta and influential figures from all over Trion flooded the city.
Security was heightened to an extreme, with soldiers patrolling every street and rooftop.
For Arlon, this presented a unique problem. His mask, which he had grown so used to, was deemed unacceptable for the banquet.
He sighed as he examined his reflection in a small mirror. He’d been putting this off, but now he had no choice.
With a subtle gesture, he altered his face slightly. His jawline became softer, his nose a tad straighter, and his eyebrows less sharp. It wasn’t a drastic change, but enough to make him unrecognizable.
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Still, the decision irked him.
Great. Now I’m stuck with this until the end of the banquet.
To make matters worse—or perhaps better?—Arlon somehow found himself paired with June for the event.
How did this even happen? he wondered for the hundredth time.
It was all a blur. One moment he’d been quietly minding his own business, and the next, Maria and June were debating over who would be his partner.
"Let’s flip a coin," Maria had said.
"Fine," June replied, smirking. "Heads, I win. Tails, you lose."
"Wait, that’s—" Maria began, but it was too late.
The coin was flipped, and June had declared herself the winner—or perhaps the loser, depending on one’s perspective.
Feeling a pang of guilt for Maria, who was now partnerless, Arlon did the only logical thing: he sent his copy, who was to attend as the guest of honor since he was one of the two that killed the Demon, to accompany her.
The morning of the banquet, they gathered backstage at the banquet hall to change into their outfits.
Arlon took this opportunity to remove his mask and finish altering his face in secret. When he stepped into the men’s changing area, he was met with immediate confusion.
"Umm, I’m sorry, but this is the saviors’ changing room," Pierre said politely.
"Do you need directions? We’re new too, but we can help," Zack added with a straight face.
Arlon blinked, caught off guard. "Sigh… It’s me."
Hearing his voice, their jaws collectively dropped.
"A-are you really Arlon?" Evan asked, his eyes wide with mock admiration. "I knew you’d be handsome! Haha!"
"Don’t force it," Arlon said, rolling his eyes as he used magic to fix Evan’s crooked tie.
The men had already dressed in their formal attire, which, to their relief, was strikingly similar to Earth’s business formal wear.
Crisp shirts, neatly tied ties, and tailored black pants—it was elegant without being over the top.
"I expected something medieval or magical," Evan remarked, adjusting his cuffs.
"Well, it’s not like we’re at a royal wedding," Pierre replied.
"Speaking of weddings," Zack chimed in with a grin, "Arlon, you clean up so well, you might actually get proposals at the banquet."
Arlon shot him a flat look. "And you might get thrown into a fountain."