Dear Diary, you won't believe what I did. I'm not sure I believe what I did. I danced with Carmine at a ball, by choice. Well, as the better of two options, but still somewhat of a choice.
The nobles have balls every so often. Although they can't seem to just have balls because they want to. It's not socially acceptable to just have a ball, so they make up frivolous reasons to host them. I think I was invited to one recently that was to show off a precious artwork acquisition. Because why quietly admire art when you can throw a ball for it? This one was because Lady Ladonne's cousin was in town. Lady Ladonne isn't someone that I'm particularly close to, but we do exist in some of the same social circles, and she cast a wide net for her party invites.
My friends were going as well, and as usual we were having a good time, enjoying the food, each other's company, and occasional dances. After each dance we discussed our partners, but my friends and I are all so different in how we evaluate them. Of course, we do all start by comparing how good they are as a dancer (we're all agreed that Lord Notton can't lead but will always blame his partner), but beyond their dancing skill what we value varies.
Arianna remarks on their physique and whether it looks favorable for sword fighting. Martina's comments tend to relate to their status. Emma, who I'd originally thought of as sensible, is a huge romantic apparently, because she says if they seemed chivalrous and kind hearted, although I’m not sure how she determines that from just one dance. On my part, I'm just looking for a practical man. He doesn't need to be too rich or good looking, but he needs to be dependable and hardworking, which I think will partially translate to how good a dancer he is, because it takes a lot of patience and practice to dance well.
During part of the evening, Martina had spilled some food on her dress and she and Emma had gone to clean it up, and Arianna had accepted a dance request (I had to assure her five times that I would be okay by myself, and practically push her onto the dance floor), so I was standing alone. While I stood there I watched the dancing, awed by the sea of fancy dresses and suits swishing in circles. As fantastic as the hair colors and magic items were, this seemingly normal thing also struck me as bizarrely fascinating. Although not unrealistic, it still held a foreignness to it. Even though it was possible, this was something that I never would have experienced in my old life. I hadn't even known how to dance until my recent lessons after waking up here.
Engrossed in my thoughts, I didn't notice the man come up beside me, until he said, "It's you again."
The white haired man from the market was standing next to me. His long white hair was drawn up into a ponytail. Instead of a suit, he wore black slacks and a silky white shirt. It looked elegantly simple, and comfortable, but strikingly dressed down compared to everyone else.
Unsure what to say, I replied, "I'm sorry, I don't believe we've met."
It was technically true, but I was hoping he'd interpret it as me not recognizing him and he'd leave me alone. Instead he introduced himself as Elio Curcond, a professor at the magic tower. After which it would have been too rude of me not to introduce myself, so I told him my name, but tried to look as disinterested as possible.
He still refused to be deterred by my demeanor. Instead he reached for me hand and asked, "May I?"
I thought he was asking for a dance. It's ill-mannered to say no without a reason, so I accepted. Only he grabbed my hand and just held it! I stood there dumbfounded. He closed his eyes for a second, a serene look on his face. I came to my senses and jerked my hand back.
For a second he looked disoriented, and when he recovered he asked me if I was aware what kind of magic I had. I assured him I don't have any magic! That was true in the market and it was true now. He tried to tell me that he could sense it in me, and I told him that was impossible.
I began to feel panicked. I didn't know how to escape the conversation, but I wanted out. I don't have magic, and I didn't want to talk about it, especially with this pushy man.
I didn't mean to glance at Carmine. I just looked around for any escape, and saw him nearby. It was only a quick glance but our eyes met. The next thing I knew Carmine was beside me, asking me to dance (he must have seen the panic in my eyes), and I was saying yes. Anything seemed better than spending another moment with Elio.
As I turned away from Elio, he caught my arm to hold my attention for a moment longer, and told me that when I decided I wanted help, he could train me at the tower. I saw Carmine frown at Elio’s grip on me, but he let go before it escalated. And then I found myself on the dance floor with Carmine, my right hand gripping his left and my other hand on his shoulder and his on my back.
As we danced I caught Arianna looking at me. She might have been jealous. Carmine was definitely a good sword fighter. I knew that from the book, but it was also easy to guess from looking at him. In fact, all my friends would probably be jealous. Martina would be impressed that he was a duke (or a duke's son, she still didn't recognize that he would become duke soon, so she might not be impressed in this moment, but she’d remember it later on). And Emma would have swooned at how he had swept me away to rescue me from my undesired conversation.
Carmine really was an impressive dancer. I wasn’t the best, having just started recently, but having him as my partner made me feel like I was a good dancer too. I looked up at his face and found him looking down at me. It startled me enough that I would have missed the next step, but his hands firmly guided me to keep moving.
My eyes shifted away, embarrassed that I’d been caught gazing at him, but I thanked him for extracting me from the conversation ealier. He told me that he was glad to be able to help. There was a short pause. He might have also been wondering if we should keep the conversation going. Then he told me that he had a friend that the magician had also been harassing; that he’d noticed him approaching me and had been wary of it.
The conversation entered another lull then. Carmine spun me and I caught another glance of Arianna. It felt polite to keep conversing, so after I’d spun back to Carmine I asked him about his sword skills, and what his training regimen was like. After that he complimented my dancing. When the song was over he’d somehow gotten me talking about the dance lessons I’d had recently, and we were walking off the dance floor together, still chatting, as I explained about all the lessons I’d had to take recently.
Carmine seemed concerned as I told him my story (you know, Diary, the one about how I’d lost my memories, definitely not the actual, full story of how I had woken up here), and I assured him that I was doing well now. He didn’t seem entirely assuaged, which I suppose is fair when there didn’t seem to be a cause for my memory loss, so I steered the conversation toward him again instead, and life within the duchy. Most of what he told me was about his routine, how he spent a lot of time sword training and had been put in charge of the knights and their training, and also about his studies. He didn’t say much about his family, but I could tell that they weren’t close, and that his father was very strict.
Another song had completed before I realized that my friends were now gathered several feet away and were looking at us. It was clear, even without considering their not so covert glances, that they were discussing my dance and conversation with Carmine. They looked expectantly pleased, and I excused myself from Carmine to go assure them that they had no reason to look like anything more than friendship was happening. I don’t think they believed me.
Still, Diary, it seems weird to me to even say that there might be friendship between the male lead and me. Certainly never more, and barely even friendship. In the book, I think the setting changed not too long from now, so I don’t think it will even be that much longer before I don’t even see Carmine or Lucia anymore. Their accomplishments are probably big enough that I’ll hear about them, but our interaction will only be a distant memory of almost friendship. And maybe at the next ball I’ll dance with another man notable enough to inform you of, Diary, and my friends can have real reason to talk, once I find someone drama free and dependable.
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