Chapter 135: I Eat Eat Eat Eat Eat
Ryan parted his lips.
Then he felt the faintest sting against the inside of his arm.
Ilis had pinched him lightly. Even through the fabric, the force was so slight it was almost imperceptible.
Ryan ca back to himself.
He looked at the two girls still standing there in a daze, gave a small nod, and let a faintly apologetic curve touch the corner of his mouth.
“My apologies.”
Emily recovered first. She looked at Ryan, then at the girl in black linked to his arm. The brief disappointnt on her face was quickly covered by a proper smile.
“We were the ones who were presumptuous.” She dipped slightly in courtesy, then took the girl in the pale pink dress and stepped back. “I hope you two enjoy yourselves.”
The two girls turned and left.
After they had gone a few steps, the lowered voice of the girl in pale pink could still be heard:
“Which family is she from? I’ve never seen her before…”
“No idea… but that dress, that presence…”
Their voices gradually faded.
Allen was still standing there.
His mouth was still hanging open. His jaw really was close to falling off.
He looked at Ilis, then at Ryan, then at Ilis’s hand looped through Ryan’s arm, then at Ilis’s stunningly cold and beautiful face—
“Y-you two…”
He pointed at Ryan, his finger trembling.
Ryan looked back at him without saying anything.
Allen stared at him for two seconds.
Then, all at once, he burst out laughing.
He waved his hand, laughing so hard his shoulders shook.
“All right, all right, I get it. Brother, you’re amazing. We were just talking about marrying into a noble family a mont ago, and it turns out you already—tsk, you really know how to keep things hidden.”
He raised a thumbs-up at Ryan, looking utterly sincere.
Ryan: “…”
Ilis stood beside him, her violet eyes sweeping across Allen’s face before returning to Ryan.
She said nothing.
Only the hand looped through his arm tightened, just a little.
“Let’s go.”
Her voice was very soft.
Ryan lowered his head and looked at her.
Black hair, violet eyes, a simple black gown, and that little star pendant resting at her collarbone.
Ryan withdrew his gaze.
“Mm.”
The two of them turned and headed toward the dance floor.
The hem of his ink-blue coat brushed against the black skirt of her gown, and under the candlelight the two colors blended into one stretch of deep night.
Allen remained where he was, staring at their retreating backs.
He scratched his head, then looked down at his own ordinary dark gray formalwear.
“Tsk.”
He smacked his lips, then turned toward the roast suckling pig that had not yet been cleared away.
Forget it. Food was more reliable.
The two girls walked several steps away. The one in the pale pink dress could not help glancing back over her shoulder.
Those two figures had already gone farther off. Ink blue and black lted into the candlelight like overlapping shadows of night.
“What’s with that attitude?” she muttered under her breath. “So what if she’s prettier?”
Emily turned her head as well.
The girl in black was still linked to Ryan’s arm, her profile traced by the candlelight into a soft line. Her black hair was pinned high, revealing a pale stretch of nape. The hem of her gown swayed gently with her steps, simple and smooth, without a single extra adornnt.
And yet it was impossible to look away.
Emily was silent for two seconds, then said softly,
“She really is beautiful.”
The girl in pale pink choked on her retort. She opened her mouth as if to argue, but in the end nothing ca out.
The two of them turned away, their skirts sweeping the floor, and vanished into the crowd.
At the edge of the dance floor, Ilis remained linked to Ryan’s arm, her steps never faltering. She looked straight ahead, the faintest curve at the corner of her mouth, and spoke so quietly that only the two of them could hear.
“It seems you’re quite charming.”
Ryan’s steps paused for a mont.
“To attract girls in such a short ti.”
Ryan turned his head to glance at her. Her violet eyes were fixed ahead, her lashes casting a light shadow across her face, and her expression gave nothing away.
He looked forward again and lowered his voice in turn.
“That’s only because you ca late.”
Ilis’s steps faltered slightly. She turned her head and looked at him.
That look was hard to define. Her violet eyes rested on his face for a mont, the corners lifting ever so slightly, carrying sothing he could not quite na. Then she looked ahead again and lightly rolled her eyes at him.
The gesture was so slight it was almost impossible to catch, but Ryan saw it.
“I needed ti to get ready too,” she said in the sa calm tone. “Changing clothes takes ti.”
Ryan said nothing.
Suddenly he rembered when Ilis had knocked on his door for the second ti an hour earlier, carrying that ink-blue formal outfit in her arms. At the ti, she had still been wearing the academy’s deep blue uniform—the sa uniform she had worn the entire day, from departure to arrival, from delivering intelligence to delivering the formal clothes. Even an hour before the banquet, she had still been standing at his door in that uniform.
So she had only gone to change afterward. That was why she had co so late.
The two of them kept walking, drawing ever closer to the dance floor as warm golden candlelight poured over them from above.
“Co,” Ilis said. “Into the dance floor.”
Ryan nodded and stepped forward.
Then he stopped.
Ilis felt the resistance in his arm and turned her head to look at him. Ryan stood there, his brows faintly drawn together. For once, a trace of hesitation showed on that face that was usually expressionless.
Ilis watched him for two seconds, then asked, “You can’t dance?”
Ryan fell silent for a mont.
“…No.”
Of course he could not dance. He had never danced in his previous life, and the current Ryan would never have known how. That gloomy, solitary Ryan Velt who disdained the company of everyone around him—how could he possibly have attended this sort of aristocratic ball?
Ilis did not speak. Her gaze rested on his face, and sothing flickered once in those violet eyes.
“I’ll teach you,” she said. “Follow .”
She released his arm and stepped back half a pace, then extended her right hand toward him.
“Give your hand.”
Ryan looked at her hand. Her fingers were pale and slender, the fingertips slightly curved, her palm facing upward.
He placed his hand in hers.
Ilis closed her fingers around it, laid her other hand against his shoulder, and stepped forward, guiding him onto the dance floor.
Her hand felt entirely different from Cecilia’s.
The Princess’s hands were exquisitely cared for, delicate and pampered. Holding them was like holding a piece of silk steeped in warm water, soft to the point of bonelessness.
But Ilis’s hand was different.
It was just as pale, just as well cared for, with no trace of calluses or roughness, and yet the instant he held it, he could feel the toughness hidden beneath the skin. It was like gripping a supple branch—or a dagger still sheathed. Smooth on the surface, with a blade hidden inside.
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