Third-Rate Villain Of Fantasy Novel-Chapter 60: Dancing [3]

The library of Estellia Academy, known as one of the finest educational institutions on the continent, held a collection vast enough to rival small kingdoms.

Towering shelves stretched toward the high ceilings, packed tightly with ancient tomes, polished encyclopedias, fragile scrolls, and newly bound textbooks that still carried the scent of fresh ink.

If one judged by sheer volume alone, Estellia's library could stand shoulder to shoulder with the Mage Tower's Library, the legendary treasure trove of arcane knowledge whispered about across the continent.

Scholars often debated which held more secrets. Students, however, cared less about the rivalry and more about the quiet sanctuary the library provided.

Soft footsteps echoed across the polished floors as students moved between shelves. Some hunched over desks piled with notes, others whispered urgently about exams, while a few flipped through books with idle curiosity.

Of course, not every book housed within those grand shelves was strictly academic.

Hidden between grimoires and combat manuals were romance novels, travel journals, illustrated bestiaries, and even a small but well-guarded section of "advanced physical training" manuals that were far more suggestive in illustration than their titles implied.

Damian, who had deliberately chosen a table far from the main study area, was there for one of those non-academic reasons.

"There are pictures," he muttered under his breath as he turned another page, squinting at the exaggerated diagram. "But they're so hard to understand."

The book lay open before him, filled with detailed sketches of two figures locked in complex movement. The lines were elegant, almost artistic—but hardly instructional.

Damian let out a quiet sigh.

"Who draws like this?" he grumbled. "Is this supposed to be a leg or a shoulder?"

Glancing around to ensure no one was watching, he closed the book halfway and stood up. He moved toward a shadowed corner between two towering shelves, where the lantern light barely reached. It was secluded enough that even the most diligent student wouldn't bother looking.

He placed the book on a nearby stand and studied the illustration again.

"Alright… so the arm goes here…"

Damian stepped forward and twisted his torso, attempting to replicate the posture drawn on the page. His movements were naturally fluid—almost frighteningly so. Ever since childhood, his body had responded to his thoughts with frightening precision. Complex maneuvers that others struggled to learn in weeks took him minutes to imitate.

Yet this… this was different.

The illustration clearly depicted two people moving in tandem, their limbs interlocked in a way that made sense only if one had a partner.

Damian attempted to recreate it alone.

He reached into empty air as if grasping someone's wrist, turned sharply, then paused mid-motion.

"…That doesn't feel right."

He adjusted his stance, bent slightly, and tried again. This time he spun too far and nearly lost his balance.

A faint thud echoed as his shoulder brushed against the shelf.

He froze.

Slowly, cautiously, he peeked around the corner.

No one seemed to have noticed.

"Good," he exhaled.

Trying to imitate a paired movement alone was already ridiculous enough. Watching him grapple with invisible air would surely raise questions.

---

Currently, there were only Damian and the librarian inside the vast library.

The tall windows were half-open, allowing thin strands of late afternoon light to slip between the shelves.

Dust floated lazily in the air, illuminated like drifting sparks. The usual murmur of students flipping pages and whispering theories was gone.

Only the soft rustling of paper and the occasional scratch of a quill could be heard.

Even though the librarian was busy preparing documents for the graduation festival, stacking invitation letters and sealing envelopes with wax, Damian still felt uneasy.

He wasn't sure if someone else might suddenly walk in to study, so he shifted his body discreetly behind one of the towering bookshelves. His movements were careful—too careful for someone who claimed he was only here to read.

He peeked around the corner.

The coast was clear.

"…This is ridiculous," he muttered under his breath.

Although, in his heart, he wanted nothing more than to return to the dormitory, he knew that would be suicide.

The academy was currently in chaos because of the festival. Students were swarming everywhere—decorating, rehearsing, arguing, laughing. And most importantly, searching.

Searching for him.

If Reinhardt or Richard caught him in the dormitory practicing the same thing he was about to practice here, he couldn't even begin to imagine the humiliation.

Reinhardt would probably clap his hands dramatically and announce it to the entire building. Richard would record it for "historical documentation."

Damian shuddered.

The graduation festival…

The reason Damian—who had maintained a distance of ninety thousand miles from dancing his entire life—was now secretly practicing dancing was because of the graduation festival that would be held in three days.

Three days.

He ran a hand through his hair in frustration.

Currently, everyone at Estellia Academy, from the faculty to the youngest first-year student, was busy preparing for the event.

The campus felt like a different world.

Even the professors, who usually moved with dignified slowness and rarely left their offices, were directly involved in the preparations.

Professor Helmut, who once claimed that "manual labor is beneath scholarly refinement," had been seen personally supervising the stage construction.

That alone proved how serious this year's festival was.

One could say that the graduation festival was just another ordinary celebration held annually—music, speeches, dance, fireworks—but this year was different.

Starting with the children of the Seven Magic Towers, the heirs of prestigious noble houses across the continent were all expected to graduate this year.

And more importantly—

The First Prince.

The First Princess.

The future pillars of the imperial family.

Even the faculty, whose motto was "equal education regardless of birth," had no choice but to pour their heart and soul into ensuring this year's graduation festival was flawless. Nobles, foreign envoys, and representatives from various kingdoms would attend.

A single mistake could turn into a political incident.

Damian leaned his back against the shelf and sighed deeply.

And in the middle of this grand, historic, continent-level event…

There was a dance.

A formal partner dance.

Compulsory.

"…Why," he whispered, staring at the ceiling as if questioning the heavens, "must knowledge and dancing coexist in the same institution?"

---

Damian let out a long, quiet sigh.

No matter how many times he tried, nothing changed.

He had prepared in every way he could think of. He had woken earlier, trained harder, read more, observed more. He had told himself that effort alone could bridge the gap between where he stood and where he needed to be.

But this obstacle was different.

It was not something that could be crushed by determination or solved by a sharper blade.

For the first time in a long while, Damian felt the weight of something he could not handle alone pressing against his chest.

He ran a hand through his hair and leaned back in his chair, staring blankly at the open book in front of him.

"Ridiculous…" he muttered under his breath.

Just as he was about to close the book and surrender to frustration, he felt it.

A presence behind him.

The faint shift of air. The soft sound of fabric brushing against stone.

Damian straightened so quickly that the chair legs scraped harshly against the floor. He turned his head in a stiff, unnatural motion, nearly knocking the book over in the process.

The result was far from dignified.

"…What are you doing here alone?"

Elena stood a few steps behind him, arms crossed, one eyebrow slightly raised. Her expression wasn't hostile, but it certainly wasn't gentle either.

Damian cleared his throat and forced his posture to relax, though it only made him look more awkward.

"I haven't done anything strange," he said quickly. "So please don't look at me like that."

"I wasn't," Elena replied flatly. "You just look suspicious."

He hesitated for half a second, then lifted the book in front of her face as if presenting evidence in court.

"See? Nothing suspicious."

Elena leaned closer, her eyes scanning the page.

Her expression shifted almost immediately.

"…Oh."

The title was unmistakable. Etiquette and Formal Protocol for Noble Banquets.

She looked at him again, and this time the surprise was genuine.

"You?"

"What about me?"

"You're reading this?"

Damian slowly lowered the book, suddenly feeling defensive.

"Yes. Is that so shocking?"

"Very."

He frowned.

Elena let out a quiet sigh and took the book from his hands, flipping through a few pages.

She closed it and handed it back.

"I understand what it is," she said. "But why now? You've never shown any interest in this kind of thing."

Damian scratched the back of his neck.

"Because of the graduation festival. They're holding a banquet this time. Graduates are required to attend."

"And?"

"And," he said dryly, "I would rather not humiliate myself in front of half the kingdom."

Elena stared at him for a moment.

Then she laughed.

Not loudly—but enough to make him narrow his eyes.

"You remember every strange rumor in the academy," she said. "You remember obscure historical dates no one cares about. You even remember what dessert was served at last year's midwinter gathering."

"That was memorable."

"But you don't remember something as basic as banquet etiquette and dance?"

Damian looked away.

"That's different."

"How?"

"Because…" He paused, then exhaled.

"Because I never thought I'd need it."

The words came out quieter than he intended.