Two months later.
"My lord, you are like a majestic swan on the dance floor," Clyde praised with an excited grin.
Vyan rolled his eyes at the comparison.
Clyde continued, "I mean, who would have thought? I was convinced dancing would be your Achilles' heel, but alas, your piano skill continues to hold that prestigious title, doesn't it?"
Vyan, unfazed by the jab, knew all too well the embarrassing backstory behind his nimble feet. Hours of practice—blisters included—just to impress Iyana at her fancy debutante ball. Such dedication he had for her…
Now the mere thought made him queasy.
His dance instructor Nicole chimed in with her two cents, adding, "Forget piano, Clyde, Lord Vyan could charm the socks off anyone with those dance moves alone. I am already plotting how to swoon him off his feet myself. Too bad he holds no interest in me."
"Uh, Viscountess Ellen, you are a married woman, though—" Vyan attempted to reason, only to be cut off by Clyde.
"Nicole, doesn't dancing remind you of something else? A special celebration?" Clyde's eyes were twinkling with mischief.
"It does. You are absolutely right," Nicole agreed, matching his enthusiasm.
"What celebration are we talking about here?" Vyan piped in, confused.
A big grin formed on Clyde's face as he eagerly announced, "So without further ado, let's divert our attention to the real crisis at hand: finding My Lord a suitable bride."
"Whoa, hold your horses! I am not signing up for the ball and chain just yet—"
"I am sure there will be a line of eligible ladies just waiting for a single chance once they find out about the new Grand Duke," Nicole continued, as if Vyan's protests were mere background noise.
"Really? Pray, enlighten us, Nicole," Clyde chirped.
Ignoring Vyan's opposition, they delved into the gossip as if matchmaking were a matter of national importance.
"As for top-tier picks, Her Imperial Highness Althea takes the cake," Nicole suggested. "Though her stock took a nosedive when someone had the audacity to call her 'too old' at the last debutante ball. She is being called ancient at the ripe old age of twenty-two."
"Too old? That's totally preposterous!" Clyde scoffed. "How can somebody be called old at such a young age? She still has her whole life ahead."
"Clyde, you know the rules of our society when it comes to unmarried women hitting their twenties," Nicole sighed, resignation evident in her voice.
"Bullshit rules," Clyde frowned.
Nicole waved her hands theatrically, banishing the gloom from the conversation.
"Enough of that, though. Let's talk about other prospects!" she declared. "Someone like Lady Iyana would have been a perfect match for Lord Vyan. She is ripe for the picking, but alas, she is snagged by the crown prince—"
Suddenly, a chill ran down her spine as she felt a death stare boring into her. Swiveling her head, she met Vyan's fiery glare and she almost gasped in fear.
Sensing the danger, Clyde swooped in, "Nicole, let's aim higher, shall we? How about some duchesses' daughters or even more princesses? No need to fuss over a measly Marquess' daughter. What about Princess Maria from Haberland? She is on the wedding market, isn't she?"
"Yes, yes, Princess Maria is indeed in the market for a lucky suitor…" Nicole hurriedly picked up the thread, shooting apologetic glances at Vyan.
Meanwhile, Clyde spared a worried glance at Vyan, knowing full well about his heartbreak over Iyana. Though Vyan kept mum about his romantic feelings, it did not take a genius to connect the dots.
That's why Clyde had kept quiet about Iyana's engagement with Prince Easton that took place about two weeks ago, ensuring no one in the manor let it slip in front of Vyan. Unfortunately, Nicole—this being her first visit as a dance tutor—had blundered in.
Now, as Clyde had feared, Vyan seemed distant. Clyde couldn't afford any distractions. He had to bring Vyan out of his trance.
"Shall we call it a day for dance?" Clyde suggested, to which Nicole eagerly agreed.
"Yes, we should. Lord Vyan is practically a pro in his own right. I don't think he would need another class from me."
"Look at you, my lord, crossing off lessons from your endless to-do list!" Clyde praised.
Vyan managed a weak smile and was about to suggest a break, but Clyde was already on it.
Once Nicole left, Clyde jumped in, "Since we are ahead of schedule, why not dive into some magic practice?"
Vyan cocked an eyebrow, irritation clear on his face. "Seriously? This is my first moment of peace since the rooster started serenading this morning."
Clyde nodded sympathetically, acknowledging Vyan's tireless efforts, but his determination could not be dampened. "I get it, my lord. But remember, time waits for no one!"
"Yes, I get it, but—"
"If you get it, then why the hesitation? Why don't we sprinkle some magic dust and master a legendary ability today? It will be fun!"
Caught off guard by Clyde's infectious energy, Vyan couldn't help but chuckle. "Fine, but if this legendary ability involves turning you into a frog, I am all in."
"Hey, if I become a frog, I will finally get the princess who will kiss me. Wouldn't that be amazing?" Clyde winked.
"On second thought, perhaps turning you into a cockroach would be better," Vyan smirked.
"Cockroaches are great, too! I can scare almost everybody away!"
"Seriously, a cockroach—ugh, you know what? I give up," Vyan let out an annoyed groan.
And just like that, they swapped dance shoes for wizard robes, leaving the drama of love and nobility behind—for now, at least.
Once they stepped out into the garden, Vyan began, "So, Clyde—"
"Ahem," Clyde interrupted with a mock stern expression. "It's 'Mentor,' remember? I demand respect during our intense training sessions."
Vyan shot him a death glare.
"Ooh, that's a fierce one! Keep practicing, and soon you will be a villain with the deadliest look who will make everyone cower at his feet," Clyde teased.
"I don't know about that, but I will practice the perfect glare just to shut you up," Vyan retorted dryly.
Clyde chuckled, undeterred. "Good luck with that. I am as un-shut-uppable as they come."
Rolling his eyes, Vyan sighed, "Let's just get on with it."
"Right, right," Clyde agreed, all business now. "First things first, let's review your progress."
Vyan nodded begrudgingly.
"Short-distance teleportation? Check. Telekinesis? Nailed it. Conjuration and fire magic? Work in progress. Gravity control? Let's just say it's a work in regress. Destruction magic? Not on the menu until you have aced the basics."
Vyan nodded along.
"Alright, what's on the agenda for today, oh dear humble apprentice?" Clyde asked with a flourish. "Do you want to continue practicing conjuration?"
"I want a change. Let's tackle long-distance teleportation, should we?" Vyan suggested.
"Then, long-distance teleportation it is!" Clyde exclaimed, clapping his hands.
He slipped a flashy golden bracelet on Vyan's wrist and locked it.
"Consider this your tracker. If you vanish into the ether and don't resurface within half an hour, I will reel you back in like a misbehaving fish."
"Got it," Vyan replied.
"Alright, listen up, I will lay down the long-distance teleportation lowdown…"
Once the mystical mumbo jumbo was over, Vyan felt as confident as a cat in a room full of rocking chairs.
All he had to do was ration his mana like a miser counting his gold coins, because let's face it, long-distance teleportation was like trying to pay rent with Monopoly money.
"Picture your dream destination. For example, Ganlop? Myca? Kresus? Do you prefer cold places or warm places? You know what? That doesn't matter. Heck, just steer clear of the empire border, my lord," Clyde cautioned, as if Vyan was about to take a joyride through a magical minefield.
A favorite place, huh?
Vyan closed his eyes, delving into his mana reserves like a wizard searching for loose change in his spell pouch. He couldn't particularly think of a spot he wanted to go to at the moment—
"—she is snagged by the crown prince."
A zap shot through his body, and when he blinked back into consciousness, he found himself in a strangely familiar room.
Before his synapses could even high-five each other over his teleportation success, two sets of footsteps approached from beyond the door.
Vyan darted for cover like a rogue in the daylight, ducking into the balcony just in time as the door swung open.
"—you mean there is no news of him?" The voice, sharp as a wyvern's talon, sent shivers down his spine.
"My lady, I believe he is no longer in Cantace," the maid replied, trying to placate the tempest brewing within.
"Then tell them to comb every nook and cranny of the empire!" Iyana's voice rose to a crescendo. "What good are they if they can't find that idiot?"
Vyan resisted the urge to facepalm.
Of all the gin joints in all the world, he had to teleport into Iyana's bedroom?