"Of course, it is an invitation."
When this understated yet resonant answer gently echoed through the silent auditorium, time seemed to press the pause button. Mary gazed quietly at him, looking into those black eyes that shimmered under the lights. There was no trace of his usual laziness or disguise in them, only a seriousness that came from the heart.
And so, the young girl smiled. It was no longer the formulaic, perfect smile that belonged to Miss Morstan. It was a smile that belonged to Mary, like melting ice and snow, coming from the depths of her heart. In the moment she smiled, the brilliant lights of the entire auditorium seemed to dim for a second, serving only to foil the starry sky that had lit up once again in the depths of her eyes.
"Since it is an invitation," she spoke softly, slowly extending her right hand and placing it gently into Russell's palm. Her cold fingers touched his warm palm like a lost bird finding its nest, greedily absorbing that reassuring warmth. "Then I would be remiss to refuse."
He led her by the hand, passing through gazes filled with shock, astonishment, jealousy, and disbelief, slowly arriving at the center of the empty dance floor. The crowd parted for them automatically, like the Red Sea before Moses. The surrounding whispers, and Timmy Roy's resentment that seemed on the verge of exploding, all vanished instantly like snowflakes falling into scalding tea.
Russell didn't care about how many Malice Points he had just gained, and Mary didn't care about the surrounding discussions or the music that had stopped abruptly at some point. They simply held hands, and then began to dance. No accompaniment needed, no applause required.
When Russell's left hand rested gently on Mary's slender waist and his right hand interlaced with hers, the girl's body stiffened briefly for a split second. It was as if a secret had been touched.
"What's wrong?" he asked in a low voice.
"Nothing." Mary's voice was very soft, her eyes lowering slightly to conceal a trace of imperceptible panic. "I just didn't expect that Mr. Watson could actually dance."
"I learned it on the spot. If you compare me to Miss Morstan, then saying I 'can't dance' would indeed be accurate," Russell smiled. "If I accidentally step on your foot in a moment, please bear with me."
"Call me Mary," she said softly, her voice as light as a whisper.
Hearing this, Russell paused for a moment, then smiled knowingly. "Then, please call me Russell as well."
He truly had never learned to dance. So, before rushing here, Russell had specifically spent 300 Malice Points to instantly unlock a [Dance D+] skill from the System. Although this level could only be considered entry-level, it was enough. Enough to let him hold her hand and finish this dance on such a night, under everyone's watchful eyes.
Just as the two were conversing in low tones, Charlotte had already set down her wine glass on the side and walked straight toward the band. "If you intend to just watch like this, then could you lend me this for a moment?" she said to one of the violinists, and then, without giving him a chance to react, directly took the expensive instrument.
The next second, a melodious improvised melody, carrying a strange rhythm never heard before, quietly rose from Charlotte's bowstrings. The melody wasn't as structured as a waltz, nor as soothing as a slow foxtrot. It was more like an improvised, spiritually rich ballade. The prelude was melodious, like a babbling brook under the afternoon sun, carrying a hint of innocent probing and curiosity.
In the center of the dance floor, Russell followed this melody, guiding Mary to take the first step. His movements were not standard, perhaps even a bit clumsy, but his sense of rhythm was astonishingly good. Mary almost didn't need to think; her body naturally followed his lead. The steps of the two were like a halting conversation. You advance, I retreat. You spin, I follow.
The moon-white skirt hem and the black trouser cuffs interlaced and swirled on the smooth floor, like the first entanglement of night and day. Russell looked at Mary, who was close at hand, gazing into her azure eyes that seemed filled with starlight under the illumination. He smelled the familiar scent of white tea and ink on her, a scent that put him at ease.
At that moment, all the surrounding jealousy and the frantically rolling numbers on the System panel became unimportant.
[Timmy Roy is furious that you have monopolized Mary. Malice Points +50]
.....
Screw the Malice Points. In this moment, he just wanted to dance this dance well.
The orchestra's conductor stared blankly at this scene before coming back to his senses with a start. He listened to Charlotte's performance, then slowly raised the baton in his hand. And so, the low hum of the cello, the clarity of the flute, the arpeggios of the piano... A completely improvised ensemble quietly began to play for the improvised dancers in the center of the floor.
The violin's melody gradually climbed, like a stream flowing into a river, becoming broad and impassioned. Russell's steps grew bolder as well; he guided Mary through an elegant spin. The moon-white skirt bloomed in the air like an epiphyllum flower opening at midnight. Mary's body was very light; the waist beneath his palm was so slender it felt as if it could snap with a fold. Yet, it was precisely this person whose combat skills were frighteningly high.
Thinking of this, Russell couldn't help but chuckle softly.
"What are you laughing at?" Mary's voice carried a slight pant due to the spin just now.
"Nothing," Russell shook his head. "I just feel that you are lighter than I imagined, Mary."
Hearing this, the girl's cheeks seemed to be dyed with an imperceptible blush under the orange lights. "Smooth talker," she scolded playfully.
The dance continued. Fine beads of sweat had already seeped out on Russell's forehead. He was not a professional dancer after all, not to mention he had run all the way here just moments ago. He even felt several times that his feet were about to fail to keep up. Seemingly sensing his predicament, Mary's steps quietly slowed by half a beat during the next turn.
She was no longer just passively following but began to take the baton, guiding Russell's rhythm. Her hand gave a gentle signal on his back; her eyes offered a hint just as he was about to make a mistake. Consequently, that halting conversation gradually became fluent. It was as if two people meeting for the first time had become familiar through accumulated days and months of interaction. The monologues of two people turned into a harmonious duet.
The violin's melody reached its climax at this moment; the impassioned movement was like a storm, sweeping through the entire auditorium. The orchestra's performance surged along with it, brass and strings weaving together as if to present a final coronation for the dancers.
Russell took a deep breath. He guided Mary through the final, and most magnificent, spin. In the instant the skirt hem flew to its highest point, he smoothly pulled her gently into his embrace. And Mary, with tacit understanding, placed one hand on his shoulder, her body leaning back slightly to form a perfect freeze-frame.
The entire auditorium was silent as the grave. Everyone held their breath, looking at the man and woman in the center of the dance floor who looked like figures from a painting. One second, two seconds, three seconds...
Unknown who started it, but thunderous applause suddenly erupted, drowning out the entire auditorium. The lights fell upon them, like a belated spotlight. Russell slowly helped Mary upright. The two smiled at each other, then, with tacit understanding, bowed slightly toward the band. As if this were the award ceremony for the two of them.
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