Chapter 27 (Underground World Lady):
Cecilia flinched and spun around in surprise. Pierre was standing there with his arms crossed, watching her. She had no idea how long he’d been there.
Her face gradually turned red.
“W-when did you get here?”
“From the moment you slipped during your turn.”
“Ugh.”
Cecilia buried her face in her hands. Her cheeks were burning from embarrassment. Pierre, however, showed little reaction.
He had been heading to the main building early for work when he was drawn by the sound of music and came to investigate.
He had wondered who was playing a dance song this early in the morning—only to find Cecilia practicing.
Just as the etiquette teacher had said, she had memorized the choreography, but her movements were still stiff.
‘She’s not ready to be used in the plan at this rate…’
Pierre debated whether to revise the operation, but his eyes settled on Cecilia’s face.
He wasn’t sure how long she had been practicing, but her forehead was glistening with sweat.
Sweaty strands of hair clung to her, and her flushed cheeks and focused eyes spoke of intense concentration.
Her dancing might have been clumsy, but that face, filled with passion, was the very image of seductive Pasión.
The Pasión melody was meant to be alluring and passionate. Could any lady dance so fiercely that her cheeks flushed? Probably no one else in the Empire except this little wild mountain monkey, Cecilia.
Pierre didn’t dislike Cecilia’s sincere effort. That was why he got involved.
As he approached her, he opened his mouth to speak.
“You’re too tense.”
Once he was in front of her, Pierre gently pressed her back. Her hunched posture straightened.
“When you’re tense, your body stiffens. Then your dancing inevitably looks rigid. Try turning.”
Though flustered by the sudden instruction, Cecilia obediently followed his words and turned.
Even though it was just a turn, she still looked awkward. Pierre thought for a moment, then extended his hand.
“Take it.”
Cecilia’s eyes widened.
“Y-you saw me dance. I’m still too stiff and awkward to dance with Your Excellency…”
She stammered in embarrassment, trying to back out, but Pierre said firmly:
“Just take it.”
Overwhelmed by his commanding tone, Cecilia had no choice but to take his hand. A surprise mid-training session—what was this?
Imagining a future filled with mistakes and scoldings, Cecilia nervously faced him. Then Pierre said:
“Put your foot on top of mine.”
“…Excuse me?”
What was that supposed to mean? Cecilia assumed he was implying that she’d end up stepping on his foot anyway, so they might as well start with it.
As she blinked like a broken machine, Pierre gently pulled the hand they were holding. Cecilia stumbled forward, nearly falling into his arms—and her foot landed squarely on top of his.
The back of her neck turned red.
“T-that was…”
“You did well.”
And then the music began. Pierre started to move slowly.
He guided her softly, at a pace she could follow while standing on his feet.
‘It’s like walking on clouds…’
His steps were light, but his upper body, held in proper form, was precise.
Before learning the dance, the etiquette teacher had explained the song’s origin:
the composer had poured his passionate feelings into it in an attempt to seduce the one he loved.
Back then, she hadn’t understood it—but watching Pierre now, it clicked.
Even without saying anything, his dance was beautiful and noble.
Cecilia never imagined using such a word, but there was no better way to describe what she was seeing.
Her eyes, slightly flushed, met Pierre’s—and he suddenly spoke.
“There’s no need to overthink it. You’re not used to seeing yourself dance, so you tense your shoulders.
That’s why your posture becomes awkward. But you don’t have to do that.
Rather than sticking to rigid technique, it’s prettier when you express the natural feeling you want to convey.”
“…!”
Her eyes widened at the unexpected word: pretty.
No one had ever called her that before—least of all Pierre.
She’d only ever seen his cold expression. It had never occurred to her that he could say something like that.
Stunned, she stood there with her mouth slightly open, while Pierre remained entirely calm.
“……”
A strange silence fell between them, and then Pierre gave a faint smile and asked,
“So… Miss Cecilia, how long do you plan to stay on top of me?”
“O-on top?! W-who’s on top?!”
His eyes drifted down to her foot, still resting on his. Cecilia finally realized and quickly let go of his hand, stumbling back.
“Ugh, I’m so sorry!”
“I told you to step on me, so there’s nothing to apologize for. More importantly—how do you feel? Do you understand it a little better now?”
To his question, Cecilia slowly nodded.
It really had been different from what the etiquette teacher showed her.
Cecilia felt that no matter how many years she practiced, she’d never catch up to Pierre.
But still…
‘Maybe I can at least imitate it.’
“Yes, thanks to you, I think I have a better idea of how I should dance. Thank you.”
Cecilia spoke with newfound confidence, and Pierre’s lips curved in a dangerously ominous grin.
Crossing his arms, he said,
“Good? Great. Then shall we try again and see how much you’ve improved?”
“…Eh?”
She’d thought no one was stricter than the etiquette teacher, but it turned out the real tiger was right here.
Cecilia ended up having to endure a long round of Pierre’s relentless “again.”
* * *
Cecilia trudged back to her room, utterly exhausted.
They said the early bird catches the worm—but all she caught was fatigue from waking up early.
She flopped onto her bed. Even with her eyes closed, she could still hear Pierre’s “again” like an echo in her ears.
“Such a harsh man.”
Her etiquette teacher had said it would take at least a month for her dancing to look natural,
but Pierre’s brutal training had made it look passable in just half a day.
Even she had to admit that her skills had drastically improved since yesterday.
So, toward the evening, Cecilia was feeling proud of herself—when Pierre said:
“If you keep this up every day, you might just become acceptable.”
Hearing that, Cecilia fled upstairs. Was he trying to kill her?
She firmly decided she would just stick with the etiquette teacher from now on.
Grumbling about Pierre’s harshness, Cecilia eventually got up. Tomorrow, Olga and Leo were leaving.
She needed to write a reply to her father’s letter, which they would deliver.
Dragging her tired body, she headed toward her desk.
But then she sensed someone’s presence beyond the curtain on the terrace.
Cecilia’s eyes sharpened, and she grabbed the fountain pen from her desk as a makeshift weapon.
She cautiously drew the curtain—and found a familiar face standing on the terrace.
“Leo!”
Dressed in black, Leo stood silently. He stepped forward when she called his name.
Cecilia’s eyes widened as she looked around in shock. Her room was on the third floor.
How had he gotten up here?
“You—how did you even get here? And why the terrace? Why not come through the door?”
“There were guards in the hallway.”
“And none outside?”
“Well, it’s easier to sneak in through the windows.”
Leo casually admitted to sneaking past the ducal guards.
Cecilia shook her head, half in disbelief.
Her uncles had said Leo had matured, but moments like this showed traces of the mischievous boy he once was.
Still, whenever he visited like this, it was always for a reason.
Most likely, he came to give her a long lecture to be careful before his departure tomorrow.
“So why are you here?”
But instead of a lecture, Leo had an unexpectedly serious expression as he opened his mouth.
“My lady. Please be honest with me.”
Startled by his earnest tone, Cecilia nodded.
“O-of course. When have I ever lied to you? What’s going on?”
Leo’s red eyes hardened as he stared straight at her and asked,
“My lady… are you being blackmailed by Cardinande?”
“…What?”
