Awkward Steps on the Dance Floor and a Silent Trial

The lingering notes of the first waltz faded as Mr. Charles Windsor gallantly kissed his daughter's hand and led her to the edge of the dance floor. Applause erupted again, warm and sustained, dedicated to the striking father and daughter. However, this applause seemed to signal the fall of a curtain; immediately, all eyes, like well-trained hounds catching a scent, turned in unison, with undisguised scrutiny and anticipation, towards the figure who had been stiffly standing at the periphery of the crowd – Leon von Hohenzollern.

What was bound to come, had finally arrived.

Leon felt as if his blood had frozen at that moment, his limbs turning cold. The hall was warm as spring, yet he felt as if he were in an ice cellar. Aunt Margaret's icy gaze pierced his back like needle tips, silently urging him on. He knew he had to take this step.

He took a deep breath, the air feeling like needles, stinging his lungs. He forced himself to lift his legs, which felt as heavy as lead, and plastered a smile onto his face – a smile he had practiced countless times, yet it still appeared stiff and hollow. He walked towards the center of the dance floor, towards the figure that seemed to have coalesced from moonlight.

Every step felt like treading on knife-edges. He could clearly hear his heart pounding madly in his chest, threatening to break through his ribs. The hushed whispers and meaningful glances around him were like countless magnifying glasses, amplifying his every subtle awkwardness to the extreme.

"Look, he's going over..."

"Hmph, look at him, he can barely walk straight."

"Do you think Miss Windsor will make things difficult for him?"

"This is going to be good..."

These voices buzzed around Leon's ears like flies, making him dizzy. He finally reached Elisa, so close he could clearly see the intricate embroidery of the Stars pattern on her gown, and smell the familiar, yet at this moment, even more nerve-wracking, cool fragrance emanating from her.

He stopped, bowed slightly according to the etiquette he remembered, and extended his right hand. Mustering all his strength to keep his voice from trembling, he asked, "Miss Elisa, would I have the honor of requesting your hand for the next dance?"

Elisa raised her Amethyst-like eyes and looked at him calmly, her gaze unwavering. There was no disgust, no anticipation, not even a flicker of emotion in her eyes; she looked at him as if he were a piece of furniture. She gave a slight nod, signifying her consent, then lightly placed her cool left hand, clad in a white velvet glove, into Leon's outstretched, slightly sweaty right palm.

The moment their fingertips touched, Leon felt as if struck by a weak current, his body trembling almost imperceptibly. He quickly placed his left hand lightly on Elisa's waist – through the thin, expensive fabric, he could feel the slenderness of her waist and a hint of distant coolness.

Just then, the prelude to the second waltz began. It was a classic courtly waltz, with a slow and elegant rhythm, a skill that noble children learned from a young age. Although the original Leon was unaccomplished, he had put in some "hard work" learning to dance to maintain appearances at various banquets; he had the muscle memory.

As the music started, Leon took a deep breath, trying to access the original owner's memories. He took the first step.

However, there was a severe disconnect between the commands from his brain and the execution by his body. Extreme tension acted like a thick layer of glue, sticking his nerves together. He thought "step, step, turn," but his leg muscles felt like rusted parts, his movements stiff and sluggish.

On the first step, he felt his foot catch, and although he didn't actually fall, his posture had lost its intended fluidity.

Elisa's brow furrowed almost imperceptibly, but she quickly regained her composure. Relying on her exquisite dancing skills and far-above-average sense of balance, she subtly guided Leon, barely maintaining the rhythm.

Leon's internal alarm bells blared, making him even more flustered. He desperately tried to recall the dance steps, his eyes involuntarily darting downwards, trying to confirm his foot placement. To onlookers, this appeared even more clumsy.

"Relax, young master Leon," Elisa's cool voice sounded in his ear, very low, audible only to them, devoid of emotion, more like a mechanical reminder.

But the reminder had the opposite effect. Leon tried even harder to control his body, but it only made things worse.

Disaster finally struck.

During a simple right turn, Leon was supposed to lead Elisa in a spin while stepping back. But his shift in weight was half a beat late, and his feet got tangled—

"Crack!"

The heel of his left leather shoe landed squarely on the toe of Elisa's delicate crystal high heel!

Even through the shoes and gloves, the sensation and sound at that moment were like a thunderclap to Leon!

Elisa's body stiffened slightly. Even with her composure, the unexpected stomp caused her to let out a very faint, suppressed gasp. A fleeting trace of pain and... helplessness flashed in her Amethyst eyes.

Leon was terrified, his soul scattering. He quickly lifted his foot and stammered apologies, "S-sorry! Elisa! I didn't mean to!"

His voice, distorted by panic, sounded particularly jarring amidst the melodious music. The nearby guests had clearly seen the incident, and suppressed chuckles and murmurs rose like a tide.

"Pfft... as expected..."

"I knew it..."

"Miss Windsor is truly so refined."

"He's completely disgraced the Hohenzollern family!"

Leon's face instantly turned a shade of liver-red, sweat trickling down his temples. He tried to regain the rhythm, but his mind was a mess, and his steps became even more chaotic.

The next few minutes were nothing short of public torture for Leon. He was like a puppet, his movements stiff, his rhythm nonexistent, relying entirely on Elisa's exceptional guiding ability to move clumsily. Even so, he stepped on Elisa's feet two or three more times. Although not as hard as the first time, each contact felt like another stab to his fragile self-esteem.

He could see Elisa's slightly pursed lips and feel the barely perceptible tension in her body. But she never said anything, nor did she show any displeasure, merely using her strong control to guide her clumsy partner in a difficult rotation on the dance floor. This silent tolerance made Leon feel more ashamed than any scolding could have.

He also saw Victor Windsor at the edge of the dance floor, his eyes practically spitting fire, his fists clenched so tightly they creaked. If not for the occasion, he would have likely charged forward. He saw Eleanor Soros, arm in arm with a young nobleman, her emerald eyes filled with undisguised mockery and schadenfreude, the victor's smile on her lips stabbing at him like a knife. He didn't even dare to look in Aunt Margaret's direction; he knew that gaze there would be one of frozen death.

This waltz, lasting no more than three or four minutes, felt like a century to Leon. When the final note finally fell, he almost immediately let go of her hand, as if dropping a hot potato. He stumbled back half a step, his forehead covered in cold sweat, his breathing rapid, as if he had just survived a life-or-death struggle.

Applause erupted again, but this time, it was filled with complex emotions. There was admiration for Elisa's grace and dancing skill, ridicule for Leon's comical performance, and, most of all, a sense of satisfaction from having witnessed a good show.

Leon stood frozen, at a loss, wishing he could dig a hole and disappear into it.

Just then, the announcer's voice sounded at the opportune moment, temporarily rescuing him from extreme embarrassment, yet pushing him towards another test: "Next, young master Leon von Hohenzollern will present his Coming-of-Age Ceremony blessings and gift to Miss Elisa Windsor!"

All eyes in the hall refocused. This time, even more intensely than before!

Leon's heart constricted sharply. He had messed up the dance; the gift... he absolutely couldn't make another mistake! He took a deep breath, forced himself to calm down, and with trembling hands, took out the exquisitely wrapped gift box, covered in dark blue velvet, from his inner coat pocket.

He took a step forward, faced Elisa, bowed again, and offered the jewelry box with both hands. In as steady a voice as possible, he said, "Miss Elisa, congratulations on reaching adulthood. This is a gift I prepared for you. I hope... I hope you like it."

His voice still held a barely perceptible tremor, but it was much better than when he was dancing.

Elisa looked at him calmly, then at the jewelry box, before extending her hands to receive it. Her movements were elegant and poised, a stark contrast to Leon's disheveled state.

She gently opened the lid.

Instantly, a deep blue light, as profound as the night sky, yet seemingly filled with twinkling stars within, met her eyes. The Starlight Sapphire brooch lay quietly on the black velvet lining, emitting a mysterious and noble glow.

Those nearby let out a low murmur of admiration. The value and beauty of this brooch were undeniable.

Elisa's gaze lingered on the brooch for a few seconds. In her amethyst-like eyes, a faint hint of... surprise? flashed, but it quickly disappeared. She closed the lid of the box, raised her head, and looked at Leon. In her unique, cool, and unfathomable tone, she spoke the most formal sentence to him tonight:

"Thank you for the gift, Young Master Leon. It's very beautiful."

There were no excessive compliments, no ecstatic joy, just a polite, indifferent thank you that adhered to etiquette. But contrasted with his disastrous dancing, this "indifferent" thank you felt like a different kind of tolerance, or perhaps, a disinterest that couldn't be bothered to care.

Leon's heart was a mix of emotions. He was relieved that the gift wasn't a mistake, but he also felt a deep sense of powerlessness. He knew that his performance tonight had thoroughly cemented his reputation as a "waste." This expensive brooch might shut some people up, but it would never change the image he held in everyone's minds.

He forced a smile, took a step back, and melted back into the shadows of the crowd. He felt like a clown who had just finished a terrible play, exhausted in body and mind.

The ball continued, music filled the air again, and people seemed to have quickly forgotten the small interlude, immersing themselves once more in the joy of the feast. But Leon knew that the talk of his clumsy performance tonight would undoubtedly become a topic of gossip among the nobles in the Imperial Capital for a long time to come.

And he could only drink this bitter wine brewed from nervousness and clumsiness alone, licking his wounds in an unnoticed corner, waiting for the next "trial" that might come at any time. Beneath the splendor of the Coming-of-Age Ceremony lay his inexpressible embarrassment and the pain of growth. And Elisa, the cool and elegant protagonist, continued to twirl on the dance floor. However, her dance partner had changed to her doting elder brother, Victor Windsor. The sight of the siblings dancing together was harmonious and beautiful, making Leon's earlier performance seem even more like a clumsy and jarring farce.