The ball continued without interruption, and the vast hall grew more crowded with every passing moment. Nobles guided their partners across the dance floor, embracing women they loved or young ladies they had met only minutes earlier. Soft laughter, hushed conversations, and the harmonious sound of music blended together into an elegant and enchanting atmosphere.
Whether it was an illusion created by Merlin or genuine magic, the entire ballroom seemed wrapped in a layer of golden, shimmering light. The chandeliers shone like stars suspended in the heavens, reflecting their radiance across luxurious gowns and formal attire. The entire scene possessed an almost unreal beauty.
Arthur gently wrapped one arm around the girl's waist while holding one of her hands.
Although Morgan had taught him a few dance steps before, that lesson had only happened once, and he could barely remember any of it.
Besides, he hadn't even been paying attention at the time.
Back then, he hadn't been interested in learning how to dance; he had simply followed Morgan's movements while she guided him.
For some reason, however, Morgan was not dancing with him this time.
The girl standing before him moved with extraordinary elegance. Every step was precise, every turn was smooth, and her movements clearly showed that she possessed considerable experience in dancing.
Unfortunately, that did not stop Arthur from stepping on her foot twice.
The young woman's eyes immediately filled with resentment as she looked at him.
"You really don't know anything about dancing, do you?"
She studied Arthur carefully.
It was exactly the same appearance she had seen earlier.
However, her words caused Arthur to freeze for a moment.
"You should know that I'm terrible when it comes to dancing."
Arthur replied while continuing to guide the girl as stiffly as possible.
He was about to ask about the Saxons when she interrupted him with visible irritation.
"What should concern me right now is why you keep stepping on my feet."
She narrowed her eyes.
"Are you doing it on purpose?"
Arthur slightly slowed his movements and answered somewhat hesitantly,
"I think I'm improving compared to before... aren't I?"
Earlier, he had stepped on Morgan's feet several times.
But Morgan had never complained.
She had perfectly maintained the image of a gentle and patient older sister.
Now, however, the girl before him seemed like a completely resentful young woman.
Her personality felt entirely different.
"Wait..."
Suddenly, Arthur realized something.
His steps gradually slowed until they nearly stopped.
He stared at the girl in front of him.
"You're not Morgan."
The girl blinked.
Arthur immediately felt a chill run down his spine.
Could it be that when the ballroom had plunged into darkness earlier, everyone's appearance had changed once again?
"Morgan? You mean Princess Morgan?"
The girl's irritation faded somewhat as she carefully observed Arthur.
Then her eyes widened slightly.
"You wouldn't happen to be the real Arthur... would you?"
She had assumed that everyone's appearance had been altered.
But now she was beginning to suspect something else.
It seemed that everyone's faces had changed...
Except the King's.
The moment Arthur noticed the suspicious look on her face, he instantly realized he had made a mistake.
Fortunately, he had not mentioned anything about the Saxons yet.
Otherwise, it could have caused a disaster.
But thinking about it...
Was this Merlin's doing or Morgan's?
With so many things changing at once, it was impossible to tell who was who anymore.
Remembering that he had stepped on a complete stranger's feet twice and then dragged her into a dance without any explanation, Arthur felt even more guilty.
"I'm sorry."
He lowered his head slightly.
"I mistook you for someone else."
Then he added sincerely,
"And I also apologize for stepping on your feet."
Arthur began loosening his grip, preparing to end the dance.
But unexpectedly, the girl tightened her hold on his hand instead.
A faint light shone in her eyes.
"You really are the King, aren't you?"
Although she had asked the question, she already seemed convinced of the answer.
In truth, it was not difficult to reach that conclusion.
Considering the way he spoke to Morgan, the way he behaved, and above all, the crown he was wearing at that moment, there was only one possibility.
There was no one else in the world who wore such a crown besides the King.
"It's me."
Arthur nodded distractedly.
Even as he answered, his eyes continued scanning the ballroom.
His priority remained finding Morgan.
He needed to discover where the supposed Saxon infiltrators were hiding.
It wasn't because he lacked confidence in her.
Quite the opposite.
But Arthur did not want to simply leave everything for Morgan to solve alone.
He wanted to help as well.
Suddenly, he felt a small, cold hand tighten around his.
The dance continued.
Instinctively, Arthur followed the girl's movements.
When he looked at her again in confusion, he realized she was also watching him.
"I don't know exactly what you're looking for."
She spoke softly.
"But standing still like that attracts a lot of attention."
The young woman smiled faintly.
"And finding someone in a masquerade ball like this is practically impossible."
She tilted her head.
"Couldn't you look for her later?"
Arthur disliked admitting it.
But she was right.
Inside this ballroom, everyone wore a different appearance.
Finding a specific person in such an environment was practically impossible.
Speaking of which...
Where are Master and Sister?
Arthur couldn't help thinking about it.
"Why are you in such a hurry?"
The girl tilted her head slightly.
"Did something happen?"
Her eyes were filled with curiosity.
Arthur shook his head.
"It's nothing that serious."
Then he changed the subject.
"Who are you?"
There was no point discussing important matters with a stranger.
The girl smiled elegantly.
"When asking someone's name, it's customary to introduce yourself first."
She observed him for a few moments.
"The way you speak and act doesn't resemble that of an aristocrat, Your Majesty."
It wasn't merely an impression.
Because in reality, he truly wasn't an aristocrat.
"It's a pleasure to meet you."
The young woman performed a small curtsy while continuing to guide the dance.
"My name is Guinevere."
Her eyes remained fixed on his.
"Although we are only strangers at the moment, I hope you'll remember my name."
Her smile grew slightly warmer.
"In return, I'll forgive your earlier rudeness."
Every movement Guinevere made radiated elegance.
It was the kind of refinement that seemed engraved into her soul from birth.
Her posture was flawless.
Her smile was gentle.
But unlike Morgan or the other women Arthur knew, that gentleness did not feel calculated.
It felt natural.
It felt genuine.
Even someone meeting her for the first time would be able to sense it.
Guinevere?
King Oddgren's daughter?
Why is she here?
And more importantly...
Isn't she supposed to become King Arthur's future wife?
Arthur was secretly astonished.
Although history had already changed considerably compared to what he knew, it was still impossible to determine exactly how much had changed.
Will Guinevere really end up becoming my queen?
While Arthur was still reflecting on that, his foot struck the girl's shoe once again.
"Sorry."
He immediately snapped out of his thoughts.
Guinevere simply smiled.
Then shook her head.
Clearly, she didn't mind.
Now is definitely not the time to think about that.
First, I need to get through this ball.
I can think about these things afterward.
Arthur gathered his thoughts and continued dancing with Guinevere.
Little by little, something curious began to happen.
His dancing was improving.
A lot.
The girl before him seemed to possess some kind of invisible magic.
Earlier, even while dancing with Morgan, he had made countless mistakes.
But now...
Every movement felt more natural.
More fluid.
More harmonious.
Without realizing it, his steps began to perfectly match hers.
As though they had been moving to the same rhythm from the very beginning.
(End of Chapter)