The Villainess's Secret Bedroom Service
Chapter 73: Black Cat Mask

Chapter 73: Black Cat Mask

Rosalie’s gaze remained entranced by her recent purchase, a sense of delight painting her features. Yet, amidst her reverie, a sudden and spirited announcement jolted her attention upwards, as if she were tracing the source of that sound. The resounding voice echoed through the air, a harmonious proclamation reaching out to all Festival attendees. Its message was clear: the time had come, the moment when musicians tuned their instruments, readying themselves for an enchanting performance. Soon, the very heart of the Central Square, adorned with majestic fountains that stood as sentinels around the Capital, would transform into a grand stage for a dance that promised to weave magic into the night.

The idea of dancing sounded quite tempting to the girl. While not possessing the polished skill of a professional dancer, Rosalie had nurtured a secret admiration for the art, often repeating the intricate instructions of her favorite idols during her previous life. It was a charming aspiration she now clung to – a desire to step into that rhythm, to feel the pulse of the music and the sway of the moment. With a heart unburdened by the fear of ridicule, she yearned to embrace this opportunity, even if it meant venturing into unfamiliar territory.

Would Damien even consider dancing if I gathered the courage to ask? He always looks so serious and stiff...’

In an instant, the square transformed into a mosaic of fervor. Spectators and passersby became part of the living tapestry, their steps harmonizing with the lively melody. They encircled the fountains, forming a united chorus of enthusiastic onlookers. Their eyes, ablaze with fascination, followed the spectacle of twirling couples that inhabited the open space. Like the rhythmic beat that bound them, their hands united in a symphony of applause, an outward manifestation of the joyous tune that animated their spirits.

Rosalie remained transfixed, her gaze an unwavering witness to the unfolding rhythmic movements. Initially, the intricate choreography seemed a tapestry of complexity. Yet, as her eyes got used to the repetitious paths of motion, a sudden understanding blossomed within her – the dance, in all its seeming intricacy, had woven itself into a symphony of delight, each step a note of joyous simplicity. It was a revelation that dispelled the illusion of effort, revealing a truth: the dance was a canvas of joy, where one’s own enthusiasm painted the strokes of motion.

With a newfound resolve, Rosalie’s heart dared her, urging her to embrace the revelry. And in that instant, the decision solidified – a decision meant to be shared.

’I want to experience this too... Then, shall I ask Damien for a dance?’

Infused with a reassuring resolution, the girl turned around, preparing to finally voice her question, however, her intentions were intercepted by the approach of a Shadow Knight. This mysterious figure, aligned with Damien, leaned in close, whispering something briefly into the duke’s ear while subtly pointing to something behind him with a light jerk of his head. In response, the duke’s eyes found Rosalie’s, a swift nod exchanged before the knight’s departure.

As the figure retreated, Damien’s posture eased, a sigh escaping his lips and he then spoke, a tone of gravity coating his words,

"Lady Rosalie, there is something that requires my immediate attention. Would you be alright awaiting my return alone?"

"Of course! Do not worry about me, Your Grace."

Still reluctant to leave, Damien took a brisk look around as if to estimate their surroundings, then placed his gloved hand on her shoulder and continued,

"Please do not take a single step from this very spot."

A response adorned Lady Ashter’s lips, a smile tinged with playful exasperation. Her head offered a nod, tinged with a touch of sarcasm.

"Fine, fine, I will make sure to behave, Your Grace. Now go, the sooner you leave, the sooner you come back."

Another restless sigh escaped Damien’s lips before he yielded to the moment, offering a nod to Rosalie. With reluctance, he started to step away, his glances occasionally turning to his fiancée until the sea of the Festival visitors swallowed him whole.

Turning back, Rosalie resumed her observation of the dance, embracing the whirlwind of colors and joy. Then suddenly, a voice, unmistakably masculine and familiar, reached her relaxed mind.

"Care to share a dance, My Lady?"

"Altair?!"

Eyes widened in surprise, she swiftly turned her whole body around, however, instead of her Revered friend, her gaze met an equally tall and long-haired figure, his flowing locks as dark as charcoal while his eyes, concealed behind a black cat mask, gleamed an intense crimson red.

The sound of an unfamiliar name caught the man off guard, his eyes mirroring Rosalie’s astonishment, a shared moment of bemusement hung between them. With an awkward note, Rosalie broke the silence first.

"Oh, I apologize... I have mistaken you for someone else."

The man did not seem offended at all and curled his lips into a warm smile instead,

"Yes, strangely enough, that happens to me quite often. Anyway... Even if I am not the one you were expecting to see, would you still grant me the honor of this dance?"

His question posed an awkward dilemma – on the one hand, Lady Ashter promised Damien that she would not leave this spot before he returned; on the other hand, she was dying to try dancing at least once, and just like always, it seemed that her curiosity would undeniably win over her reason once again.

’Well, he will probably be able to easily spot me if we do not go further into the crowd, and it’s just one dance, an utterly harmless idea, right?’

Directing her deep gray eyes onto the masked man’s outstretched hand, Rosalie’s breath escaped in a short sigh. With a gentle motion, she added her hand atop his, implying her positive response to his request. As their bare skin collided, a strange cold shiver ran down the girl’s spine as if her back was covered with hundreds of tiny frozen insects, and yet, something pleasantly familiar awakened in her as if helping her confirm that she had indeed not only seen but touched this man before.

’The more I look at him, the more I don’t recognize him, and yet... Somehow, I still cannot shake off this feeling that I have seen him somewhere before. Why is that?’

Rosalie’s intense gaze caught the man’s attention, his smile a testament to the flattery stirred by her unwavering focus.

"A recurrent gaze upon me... Is there a reason behind it, My Lady?"

Flustered and slightly embarrassed by her own rude behavior, Lady Ashter frantically shook her head and quickly replied in a rather awkward voice,

"Oh, no, I apologize. It’s not what it seems. You simply look very familiar, that is all. Have I, perhaps, seen you somewhere else before?"

Unexpectedly, her dancing partner averted his gaze, his face turning somewhat darker even beneath the black cat mask, however, he quickly regained his composed demeanor and offered her a sly grin.

"Unmasking the identity behind the mask defeats its very charm, don’t you agree?"

An awkward scoff escaped Rosalie’s pinkish lips as she agreed with the man’s words with a subtle nod of her head.

’That must be it – the mask. It is easy to mistake one person for the other when they are wearing a mask. I was simply confused.’

Their dance continued in a wordless atmosphere, but the man’s gaze was now firmly fixed on the girl’s face, staring at her with a restless glare, and although she was beginning to feel incredibly uncomfortable under his intense crimson eyes, Rosalie decided to ignore that feeling, especially since she had already noticed that it was quite usual for dancing partners to look at each other during their dance. Therefore, she made an inner effort to shake that uncomfortable feeling off and decided to surrender herself to the moment of rhythmic movement which was becoming easier with each passing moment as the skillful guidance of her companion led her through the dance.

At last, the music tapered off, casting an unexpected blanket of stillness upon the dancers. Yet, amidst this serene pause, the enigmatic masked man remained resolute, reluctant to release his partner. With her eyebrows arched, Rosalie tried to gently free her hands from the man’s grip and said in a confident voice,

"Well, thank you for the dance, My Lord! I truly enjoyed it."

Gripping her hands with a firm hold, the man suddenly leaned closer, his face parallel to the girl’s, and whispered in a somewhat cold, almost menacing voice,

"It’s time for you to leave, Lady Rosalie. The fun is nearly over."

Offering her one last look in the eyes, the man smiled, and walked away, leaving Rosalie in a quiet state of utter perplexity. How long she stood within the square, suspended in thought, remained a mystery. Gradually reacquainting herself with reality, she turned around, her eyes frantically searching for a familiar black frame, but the mysterious crimson-eyed man was already gone.