Chapter 24

Clemens’s strength lay in his ability to meticulously combine information and conditions into a perfect, pre-determined script.

However, conversely, that was also his weakness; the moment an event exceeded his expectations, he would instantly lose his mental equilibrium.

Right now, he was watching the scene before him with a frozen expression.

‘What on earth is happening…?’

The focus of everyone’s gaze was the dance floor, surrounded by a dense circle of onlookers.

In this ballroom, adorned with massive chandeliers and mirrors, a multitude of gentlemen and ladies—now joined by the servants—should have been intermingling and performing a waltz.

But—

“Ah, look…! What a beautiful turn!”

“And such a smooth swing… The movement itself is like music…!”

In reality, only one couple was dancing: Lucas and the mysterious girl.

Those who had initially been dancing had been so overwhelmed by the sheer beauty of the pair’s performance that they had withdrawn from the floor one after another.

The beautiful girl, clad in a dripping-red dress, danced a delicate waltz right down to her fingertips, led by Lucas in his deep-blue knight’s formal wear.

Entwined gazes, cheeks occasionally brushing, fingertips sliding longingly along arms, and legs crossing in rhythm.

The entire display overflowed with such a heart-stopping allure that even Clemens, who viewed women only as pawns for his machinations, could not tear his eyes away.

‘It is like a story… Yes, like a heart-wrenching tale of a beautiful courtesan and a virtuous knight, woven from tragic love and eventual reunion…’

Yes. Surely the stage was a pale night where the crescent moon hung like a scratch in the sky.

Separated by social standing and a malicious fate, the beautiful courtesan trips over vegetation wet with night dew and collapses.

Sobs echo, tears fall. But there, a hand is gently reached out.

With slender shoulders trembling, she looks up to see a gallant young man with tender eyes.

Dropping a kiss upon the back of the stunned courtesan’s hand, he whispers with a feverish expression.

I have come to you on the wings of love—

‘—Wait, no!’

Clemens felt an impulse to slam his head against a nearby wall.

This was no time to let his imagination take flight.

His plan was about to go significantly off the rails; this was an emergency.

According to the original plan, once this waltz settled down, Felix was supposed to distribute the “Wine of the Covenant” he had poured, leading into a toast—that was the moment Lucas’s poisoning was to take place.

This meant that during this waltz, the sight of “Felix himself taking out the wine, opening it, and pouring it” needed to be impressed upon as many witnesses as possible.

And yet, every single person in the room was sending their heated gazes not toward Felix, but toward the pair of Lucas and the girl.

This was despite the fact that Clemens had gone to the trouble of placing several famously beautiful ladies around Felix.

‘No, witness testimony can be fabricated later. The biggest problem is the timing.’

He had coordinated with the attention-seeking foreign musician: if Clemens rubbed his nose, it was the sign to “Prepare the trill,” and if he touched his ear, it was the signal to “Play the trill.”

The “Supreme Trill” would be unleashed in accordance with that, and the waiter—a servant whose weakness Clemens held—would take that as the cue to step on Lucas’s foot with a shoe rigged with a poisoned needle.

This way, even if Clemens remained at a distance from Lucas, he could execute the poisoning at the exact moment the Prince put the Covenant wine to his lips.

—And yet.

‘Hey! Joran Svalbard! Look over here!’

Though he had been rubbing his nose incessantly for some time now, Joran showed no sign of noticing him.

It seemed the solitary musician had completely forgotten about his employer and was now pinned to the spot by this beautiful girl.

‘I see, indeed, there is something about this girl’s dance that draws people in. A step that doesn’t miss the tempo by a hair’s breadth. An expression that captures every nuance of the melody. Yes… a dance that embodies music itself, a muse that turns his music into motion—Wait, that’s not it!’

This was no time to be analyzing why Joran was so infatuated.

Clemens rubbed his nose desperately.

‘Joran Svalbard! Notice me! Hey!’

“My, what a beautiful girl she is.”

Suddenly, a voice spoke from behind him in a slow, drawling tone.

Startled, he turned to find a young man dressed in a splendid evening tunic—Prince Felix.

“I told you I wanted a pretty girl like that by my side. The ones you gathered for me are all boring to talk to, and for that matter, their perfume is too strong. Clemens, your work this time was a bit lacking, wasn’t it?”

Ahaha, failure, failure.

Laughing in that manner, Felix poured wine sloppily into the glass he held.

Looking closer, it was that very bottle with the antique label—the vintage wine that was supposed to be used for the Covenant of the Cup.

‘This brat… when did he open the bottle?!’

The Prince’s nerve-wracking remarks were grating enough, but Clemens was close to exploding with rage at Felix for ignoring the coordinated schedule and beginning to pour the wine so early.

The opening of the wine was supposed to happen after the music ended. It was meant to be performed only after the transition to the Ritual of the Covenant.

But Felix seemed utterly unconcerned with such common sense, pouring the precious vintage as if he were ladling water. Then, he looked at Clemens and gave a vapid grin.

“Dancing makes you thirsty, right? I thought I’d bring this over as a refreshment. While I’m at it, maybe I’ll try to woo that girl. Apparently, her name is Elma. She’s been a bit of a rumor lately. Did you know?”

“…No, I am ashamed to say I have been entirely occupied with the ceremony preparations recently. …As for the glass, rank must be observed, so please ensure you hand it to your younger brother first.”

Clemens managed to force the words out, suppressing the urge to grind his teeth. For now, as long as Felix made Lucas drink the wine, the plan remained on track.

But the timing was becoming critical.

While pretending to be casual, Clemens desperately continued to rub his nose at the musician.

‘Hey! Notice me! Joran Svalbard! Your turn is coming up!’

“Ahaha, what’s wrong, Clemens? About to have a nosebleed? Did you get excited? You should stop; an old man in love is such an unsightly thing.”

It was only natural that a wave of murderous intent nearly overflowed from Clemens at that moment.

In the direction of his glaring gaze, beyond the crowd, the beautiful waltz was still unfolding. The dance was finally reaching its finale—the moment of peak intensity.

Yet, the music provided by the orchestra was falling just a hair short of the world the dancers were expressing. Just as someone was about to let out a sigh of disappointment, the girl, who had been staring fixedly at her partner, did something unexpected.

She cast her gaze toward the orchestra and smoothly extended her arm.

It was an inviting gesture.

Give me more intensity.

Give me more harmony.

To Clemens, her seductive hand movements looked as if she were shouting:

Everyone in the band! Lend me your strength—!

‘What is with this girl?! Is she some kind of protagonist who defeats the enemy by joining forces with her comrades?!’

Clemens found himself mentally providing the “dubbing” for her actions and then immediately criticized himself for it, but the change was indeed dramatic.

Instantly, the orchestra members, led by Joran, underwent a transformation. Their eyes changed, and they began to play with every ounce of their souls.

A tense bass line. A melody that seemed to sob.

A great swell of emotion moved the instruments and the players alike, creating a singular world. It fused with the two figures stepping in the center of the stage, bringing forth an incredibly epic tale.

Beyond the dancing girl, one could see the figure of the beautiful courtesan.

One could see the young man she sought, and the flames of passion that sprouted between them—flames that burned everything to ash. A fire that burned uncontrollably even when hidden—yes, that was… Love!

“Ah…”

Exclamations of wonder escaped the onlookers at this brand-new physical language that could no longer be contained by a word like “expressiveness.” Some were even moved to tears.

With a particularly high-ringing note, they performed a perfect Throwaway Oversway.

As the girl arched her back deeply, appearing to collapse into the Prince’s arms, everyone hallucinated the love, death, and prayers of the beautiful courtesan.

The venue fell into a profound silence.

After a hush that lasted about three breaths, someone clapped their hands as if suddenly remembering to do so. As if that were the trigger, a wave of applause spread all at once.

If this had been a stage play, it would have surely been a standing ovation.

The girl, having finished the dance, didn’t seem even slightly moved by the praise. Instead, she looked around and began saying something to the noble daughter who was standing there, pale as a ghost.

Whatever she said caused the Prince beside her to look panicked and quickly cover the girl’s mouth. Seeing the exchange, Felix spoke up leisurely.

“Wow, that was amazing. I think I’ll go bring them this wine now.”

“…!”

This was bad.

He hadn’t even made eye contact with Joran, the signalman, yet.

‘Hey! Joran Svalbard!’

Clemens turned his gaze toward Joran with a feeling of desperation, only for his eyes to bulge in shock.

“O Muse…”

For the young musician, who was supposed to be entirely conceited in his own musical talent…

“My true strength, and yours. Shall we… clash them together?”

Like a boy who had finally found his greatest rival, with a burning competitive spirit blazing in his eyes, he abruptly began to thrash his violin with unprecedented intensity.