Third-Rate Villain Of Fantasy Novel-Chapter 61: Practice Partner [1]

Damian looked away.

"That's different."

Elena tilted her head slightly. "How?"

"Because…" He hesitated, fingers tightening around the edge of the book resting on his lap. The words felt heavier than they should have. "…because I never thought I'd need it."

They came out softer than he intended—almost swallowed by the quiet between them.

Elena studied his face for a long moment. His jaw was tense, his gaze fixed somewhere far beyond the room.

"Is it because of Noel?" she asked gently.

"Yes."

The admission settled between them like dust in still air.

Silence followed.

Damian lowered his eyes back to the page, though he hadn't actually read a single line since she'd spoken Noel's name. The letters blurred together meaninglessly. Beside him, Elena turned her head away, staring at nothing in particular. The atmosphere felt heavy—unspoken thoughts pressing in from every side.

After what felt like an eternity, Damian broke first.

"I know you won't like me dancing with Noel," he said, keeping his voice even. "But I couldn't help it. How was I supposed to refuse the princess's request to dance?"

Elena didn't look at him. "I have no reason to dislike you dancing with Noel."

He let out a small, humorless breath. "You say that, but it's written all over you right now."

That made her glance at him sharply.

"I know you care about her," he continued. "She's important to you. And I know I might seem… lacking compared to what you expect. But I'm trying. I really am. Can't you at least look at me and see that?"

Her expression wavered, just slightly.

"If it were Noel," Elena said after a pause, "she would have accepted it quietly even if you refused."

Damian's lips curved faintly. "Yes. That's right. And then I would've had to endure her resentful glare until graduation."

Elena almost smiled—but didn't.

"There isn't much time left until graduation anyway," she murmured.

"That's exactly why things like this matter more," he replied. "The aftermath of something small can last much longer than you think. My father once told me about a young lady he refused to dance with at a party. She didn't forget it for years."

Elena raised a brow. "Years?"

"Years," he confirmed. "Apparently she reminded him of it every time they crossed paths."

A small silence lingered before he added more quietly, "I don't think Noel would do that. But my circle is small. My relationships are limited. If I had to choose someone to dance with, it was going to be her. There wasn't another option that wouldn't cause unnecessary trouble."

He looked at Elena then—really looked at her.

"So… could you allow it?"

The question was softer now. Not defensive. Not proud. Just honest.

Elena's fingers curled slightly in her lap.

"You're asking for my permission?" she said.

"I'm asking for your understanding."

Her gaze flickered.

"And if I say I don't like it?" she asked.

Damian didn't answer immediately. His expression shifted—subtle, but sincere.

"Then I'll still have to dance," he admitted. "But I'd rather not do it knowing I've hurt you."

That was the first time her composure truly cracked.

Not in a dramatic way.

Not loudly.

Just a thin fracture in the calm mask she wore so effortlessly.

"You assume too much," she whispered.

Her voice was steady, but something underneath it trembled.

"Do I?" Damian tilted his head slightly, studying her expression like he was trying to solve a puzzle.

He didn't understand why Elena was reacting like this. He had only been speaking casually. At least, that was what he thought. Yet the air between them had shifted—tightened—like a string pulled too far.

Elena didn't look at him.

She didn't fully understand what she was feeling either. The irritation in her chest felt too sharp to ignore, yet too embarrassing to admit. It wasn't anger exactly.

It was something worse.

And she refused to name it.

Her lips pressed into a thin line, but her subconscious betrayed her. The dissatisfaction slipped out anyway, quiet and fragile.

"In the first place… I wasn't even an option for your choice."

The words were so soft they almost dissolved in the air.

Damian blinked.

"Huh? What does that mean?"

She immediately looked away. "It's nothing."

It clearly wasn't nothing.

A silence stretched between them.

Elena exhaled, forcing herself to stand. The wooden chair scraped faintly against the floor. She extended her hand toward him, her posture regaining its usual firmness.

"Damian, I'll be your practice partner. You have to make sure not to step on Noel's feet, even if you make a mistake."

That wasn't what she meant to say.

That wasn't what she had been thinking.

But it was safer.

Damian stared at her outstretched hand instead of taking it. His brows slowly furrowed.

"Wait… back up." He looked genuinely confused now. "Why are we suddenly talking about Noel?"

Elena didn't answer.

"Are you really okay?" he asked more quietly. "I don't think this is very good. After all… I'm 'Damian.'"

He didn't need to elaborate. They both knew what that meant.

His reputation.

His temper.

His history of throwing a punch before thinking.

Her gaze snapped back to him.

"Are you still worried about that?" she challenged. "Then how do you explain us sitting here facing each other and having a conversation?"

"That's different."

"How?" 𝒻𝓇𝑒𝘦𝘸𝑒𝒷𝓃ℴ𝑣𝘦𝑙.𝒸ℴ𝘮

Damian hesitated. For once, he didn't have a sharp reply ready.

"You're…" He stopped himself, frowning. "You're not like the others."

The statement hung awkwardly between them.

Elena felt her pulse stutter.

"Who was the one who threw a fist at the first meeting?" she shot back, lifting an eyebrow. "I got it. If you're okay with it, fine. But please don't deliberately step on my foot."

A faint smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth despite the tension.

"That was one time."

"One very memorable time."

He sighed, finally reaching forward.

For a brief second, his hand hovered inches from hers.

Then he took it.

His grip was firm—warm—careful in a way that contradicted his reputation.

Elena felt the contact more than she should have.

When he finally stood, he didn't let go immediately. His eyes searched her face again, softer now.

"You still didn't explain what you meant earlier," he said. "About not being an option."

She looked at their joined hands.

Then at him.