The music of the waltz, led by the graceful and confident steps of Bastian Klauswitz, flowed like a melody on a spring night. His movements were effortless and precise, every step taken with the utmost precision and poise.
Odette stared in amazement at his skill, almost expecting to stumble or falter, but to her surprise, he seemed to glide effortlessly across the dance floor. His demeanor was calm and composed like always, almost haughty in its confidence as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
Though it was a little embarrassing to see him so self-assured, Odette quickly regained her composure and moved gracefully alongside him in the dance. The waltz was a perfect representation of the beauty of spring, and the two dancers were its embodiment.
The music swirled around them as Bastian and Odette danced the waltz. The movement of their bodies was as graceful as the notes of the violin, and their steps were in perfect harmony.
As they glided across the dance floor, Odette got severly impressed by Bastian's skill. "You waltz's very well," she murmured, her voice barely audible above the music.
Bastian chuckled, spreading a hint of amusement in his eyes. "Laven's teachers will be able to make even a monkey do a gentleman's dance," he replied, the words rolling off his tongue with ease.
Odette's eyes widened in surprise. Laven was known to be the most prestigious private school in the empire, where even the children of the most affluent families struggled to gain entry. It was an unlikely name to come from the mouth of a man who was looked down upon for his humble origins.
As the dance came to an end, Odette couldn't shed the feeling of confusion. This was the first and last ball she would ever attend, and she didn't want to leave with the regret of having danced a clumsy dance on such a beautiful night. She pushed the thoughts out of her mind and focused on the present, enjoying the last moments of the waltz before it came to an end.
Odette freely gave Bastian her confidence after making up her resolve to follow him, and he expertly guided her. She hadn't danced a waltz since her mother died, yet her body didn't appear to have forgotten the tight instructions of those earlier days.
The two of them eventually developed a natural flow like a wind tide. Odette permitted herself to relax.
The emperor and empress sat in their throne-like chairs, pleased with the events that had unfolded before them. Meanwhile, Isabelle retreated to the terrace, tears streaming down her face. And there's Sandrine de Laviere, or Countess Lenart, who watched the scene with a keen eye, her gaze constantly flitting back and forth.
Bastian, in the meantime, amazed by the ripples Odette had caused with her presence. Everything was going according to plan and even more than he had hoped for. Franz, his step brother, couldn't take his eyes off of Odette. Even as he danced with his fiancée, his gaze was locked on the young woman. The Countess Klein's daughter saw this and cried, but Franz seemed not to notice anything except for Lady of Dissen.
Smiling to himself, Bastian cast his gaze over Odette. She was so embarrassed that she had to turn away, but even while doing so she maintained a perfectly balanced posture. She was light on her feet and moved fluidly and with a sense of grace.
Bastian didn't appear to care that this night out would permanently ruin Odette's reputation. Dressed to the nines in fine jewelry and a flashy outfit, she had come here appearing to be an independent woman who wouldn't even drink a cup of tea for free, but in the end, she caved to her pompous greed.
She was obviously capable of comprehending the nature of the company. She wasn't a naive lady who would fall into the pit of her own lyrical vanity, which was lucky in a way.
Each of them needed to use the other for their personal benefit in order to achieve their target and goals.
Bastian's gaze moved over to her smooth ivory cheekbones and beautiful eyes before stopping at the nape of her neck, where her blue veins were plainly apparent. His eyes were assaulted by the radiance of a stunning diamond necklace that could not have belonged to this woman.
Deep above the neckline of her fan dress, Bastian's sight, which had been fixed on the line of light flowing over her straight collarbone, froze. The gown appeared to be poorly fitted for the woman's physique, gravitating special attention to the her breasts. Clothespins had been used to cinch in her waist, but there didn't seem to be enough time to loosen them again.
As the music of the waltz flowed gracefully through the grand ballroom, Odette found herself in the arms of the infamous Captain Bastian Klauswitz. He stood tall and proud, his piercing blue eyes fixed upon her as if she were a precious treasure to be kept and hide.
"What a beautiful piece of jewelry and dress," he murmured, his lips curling into a sly smile. Again, he studied the contours of her body, this time with an interest in the color her undergarments she was wearing. Odette felt a flush rise to her cheeks as she tried to pull away, but his arms held her close, as if she were caged, making it impossible for her to escape.
"Thank you for the compliment, Captain," she responded firmly, trying to mask the flutter of nerves in her chest.
"Are you returning it after tonight?" he asked, his voice heavy with sarcasm. Odette could feel the heat of his breath on her cheek as he leaned in closer, his gaze intense and unyielding.
Despite her discomfort, Odette couldn't help but be drawn to the captivating allure of this dangerous man. The shadows cast by the flickering lights on his sharp features only served to accentuate his handsome, mysterious demeanor. As the waltz continued, Odette knew she was trapped in his arms, and she couldn't shake off the feeling that she was being pulled deeper and deeper into a dangerous game.
Even though it was indecent language, Odette made the choice not to call it out. He graduated from the Royal Military Academy and the esteemed history department before being commissioned as an officer. His education was more aristocratic than that of any other aristocrat. Furthermore, it implied that Bastian Klauswitz's harshness was not due to a lack of education.
"Yes. Because I rented it for a day's worth of my pay." Odette met Bastian's gaze with a renewed sense of confidence, the shame that had previously weighed heavily on her now lifted. "I have nothing to hide from you, Captain," she thought to herself. "Don't worry too much, I have enough money left to make other arrangements," she said with a hint of defiance in her voice.
Bastian raised an eyebrow, impressed. "Lady Odette, you are a much wealthier woman than I had imagined."
"It's all thanks to your generosity, Captain," Odette responded with a sly smile.
"Generosity?" Bastian queried, intrigued.
"Yes, your consideration has saved me a great deal of money on tea," Odette replied, her eyes sparkling with pleasure.
Bastian chuckled at her clever retort, understanding the playful jab at their previous encounter. "Well played, Lady Odette," he said with a grin. Though it seemed her revenge had not quite achieved the desired result, Odette couldn't help but feel a sense of satisfaction at besting him no matter a small way.
As they danced, Bastian couldn't help but marvel at the beauty that stood before him. The way the jewels on Odette's dress glimmered in the light, and the way her hair cascaded down her shoulders, it was as if she were a goddess sent to grace him with her presence.
"It's fortunate that the tea money is being spent on something far more valuable than the Duke's gamble," Bastian said, his voice low and smooth.
Odette raised an eyebrow, a small smile playing on her lips. "Since it's the money I was supposed to pay the captain, I'm going to use it for the captain's benefits," she said, a hint of mischief in her voice.
Bastian giggled. "Next time, I'll have to treat you to a nice meal. So that the lady can save more money."
But Odette shook her head. "I'm sorry, but I am going to decline that offer," she said, her voice firm.
"Why?" Bastian asked, his brows furrowed in confusion.
"I don't want to go into debt that I can't afford to pay off."
Bastian scoffed, a smirk on his lips. "I would never by any chance have to sell such a noble woman in exchange for a debt,"
"Considering the memory of the first day I met Captain, I don't believe it very much," Odette said, her words a gentle tease.
And as they danced, lost in their banter and playful jabs, Bastian couldn't help but feel a sense of admiration for the woman before him. She was strong and independent, and she had a neck that was as long and slender as a swan's. As the night deepened and the lights grew brighter, Bastian knew that this would be a night that imprinted in his mind's eyes forever, that he would never forget, no matter what.
In their light-tinted eyes, they continued to dance together.
Odette occasionally turned her head away, hitherto Bastian stared calmly and deeply anyway. The noise from the other side of the hall only became audible to them toward the end of the dance. Bastian looked in the direction of the muttering. Among the guests, who had stopped dancing in shock, was a stumbling woman.
It was Princess Isabelle, the culprit responsible for staging this this wedding charade.
*.·:·.✧.·:·.*
"There you are!"
The piercing cry echoed through the grand ballroom, causing all eyes to turn towards the commotion. In the midst of the chaos, the princess stormed in, wedging herself between Odette and Bastian.
With a venomous sneer, Isabelle glared at Odette, her voice filled with disdain. "I know you're just trying to escape your lowly life. You're nothing but a beggar, with no shred of dignity."
Fury burning in her eyes, Isabelle lunged towards Odette, her words filled with malice. "This woman is just using you for your money. She's nothing but a common prostitute!"
With a fierce tug, Isabelle yanked the ornamental comb from Odette's hair and cast it aside. She wrenched Odette's hair with a violent clutch, causing her to cry out in pain. Bastian's lips twisted into a twisted sneer as he watched, admiring Isabelle's audacity to attack Odette with such ferocity despite her drunken state.
"Behold that haughty one, still blinded by the glitter of jewels! Can you believe it?" Isabelle said in disgust.
Bastian stepped forward, his strong arms shielding Odette as she collected the shattered pieces of her comb. Isabelle, fueled by drunken anger, raged on, but Bastian's calm presence seemed to quell her fury. He spoke soothing words to the princess, trying to bring her back to reason, but she was beyond listening.
"You are drunk." Bastian abruptly halted Isabelle's actions.
"Bastian, I love you. I absolutely love you so much "The princess muttered, her eyes lifeless and hazy, and it was obvious that she had consumed too much alcohol. Isabelle sobbed and threw her arms around Bastian, "I would rather let the whole world know of my love for you than to lose you like this."
Tears streaming down her face, Isabelle clung to Bastian, pouring out her love for him in a desperate confession. The smell of alcohol on her breath was overwhelming. Bastian gently pushed her away, his eyes filled with a mix of pity and disgust. But Isabelle was desperate, clinging to him like a person on the brink of falling. Her neck, chin, and lower lip pressed against his in random, drunken kisses.
They didn't know what to do and feared that the immodest scene would ignite a fire. It wasn't much different for Franz, who was keeping an eye on his fiance's family like a lost bird.
Bastian turned his head to avoid the unwanted advances, his eyes falling on the imperial throne where a commotion was taking place, as the Empress had collapsed from shock.
As the imperial couple made their hasty exit, the orchestra fell silent, and the once vibrant banquet hall was left in a cold, oppressive silence. The spring ball at the palace had come to an inglorious end, and the guests were left to contemplate the chaos that Isabelle had wrought.
Bastian's eyes scanned the room, taking in the panicked expressions of the guests, the empress's collapsed form. He smiled, a small, quiet smile at the absurdity of it all. He caught the eye of his father, who looked at him with anger and disappointment, yet he gave a small nod of understanding.
And then he turned his head again, his gaze falling on Isabelle, who was still clinging to him, her face a mess of tears and smudged makeup. It was a tragic scene, one that was both heart-wrenching and elegant. In that moment, Bastian couldn't help but feel a sense of detachment, as if he were watching a play, and the characters were nothing more than actors on a stage. The play ended in an elegant tragedy.