Third-Rate Villain Of Fantasy Novel-Chapter 62: Practice Partner [2]

A thousand honest answers crowded her throat.

Because you never looked at me that way.

Because you chose her without even noticing me.

Because it shouldn't bother me, but it does.

Instead, she tilted her head slightly and gave him a thin, unreadable smile.

"I don't know?"

"That's not an answer."

"It's the only one you're getting."

Damian studied her for another second, as if debating whether to push further. But something in her expression warned him not to.

"Fine," he muttered. "But if you're mad at me, just say it."

"I'm not mad."

"Then what are you?"

She paused.

That question landed too accurately.

She pulled her hand back first and stepped toward the practice floor.

"Your partner," she said lightly. "Try to keep up."

He watched her walk ahead, still unsure what storm he had accidentally stepped into. 𝕗𝚛𝚎𝚎𝐰𝗲𝗯𝗻𝚘𝚟𝚎𝗹.𝕔𝐨𝕞

---

They had practiced for almost thirty minutes, and yet Damian still couldn't say he could properly dance.

Still, the result wasn't bad.

At least, he no longer looked like a wooden puppet being dragged across the floor.

Now he was alone.

Damian stood in the middle of the practice room, staring up at the ceiling as if it held the answers to questions he refused to ask. The faint echo of their footsteps still lingered in his ears.

Elena had left only a few minutes ago, her presence replaced by an unsettling quiet.

The dance practice she had helped him with had gone better than he expected.

Moving with a partner was completely different from awkwardly copying poses from reference pictures.

When he practiced alone, he had to imagine where someone else's hand would rest, how close their bodies would be, when to turn, when to guide.

With Elena there, everything felt… real.

Since he was already confident in controlling his body, matching her rhythm wasn't particularly difficult.

The moment she placed her hand in his and stepped closer, his instincts took over. He adjusted without thinking. He followed the tempo of her breathing. He anticipated her weight shifts.

As a result, Damian was able to grasp the core movements in a single session, and their practice ended much earlier than expected.

But what lingered wasn't the steps.

Damian slowly placed a hand over his chest.

His heart was still beating faster than usual, even though several minutes had passed.

He didn't need to think about what this emotion was.

He inhaled deeply, then exhaled.

Calm down.

But the moment his mind replayed what had just happened—the warmth of her palm, the way her fingers lightly tightened around his shoulder during a turn, the soft brush of her sleeve against his wrist—his heartbeat quickened again.

"I have to let it go," he muttered under his breath.

His voice sounded strangely small in the empty room.

"I have to let it go."

Earlier, before she left—

—

"Again," Elena had said, stepping back into position.

Her tone was calm, composed. The same tone she used during strategy meetings.

Damian frowned slightly. "We just did it three times."

"And you stepped on my foot twice."

"That was one time."

"It was twice."

He clicked his tongue softly. "You're exaggerating."

Elena raised a brow. "Do you want me to show you the bruise tomorrow?"

He stared at her for a second, then looked away. "…Let's do it again."

A faint smile tugged at her lips.

They returned to position.

Her hand slid into his.

Even now, recalling it made his breath hitch.

"Don't overthink," she said quietly. "You're stiff again."

"I'm not stiff."

"You are."

"I'm focused."

"You're panicking."

He shot her a look. "I don't panic."

She leaned in slightly, lowering her voice. "Your shoulders are tense."

Before he could react, her free hand lightly pressed against his shoulder, guiding it down.

"Relax," she murmured.

For a brief second, his thoughts blanked.

He swallowed.

They moved.

One step forward. One step back. Turn.

This time, it flowed.

Their movements aligned naturally, like they had done this countless times before. Her skirt shifted softly with each turn. His hand at her waist steadied her without hesitation. Their eyes met only once—but that one glance lasted longer than it should have.

When the music ended, neither of them immediately stepped away.

It was Elena who broke the silence first.

"You learn quickly," she said.

"You teach well," he replied.

A pause.

"…That's all."

"Yes," she agreed.

But neither of them moved.

Then, as if remembering something important, Elena gently withdrew her hand.

"This is enough for today."

Damian nodded. "Right."

She turned toward the door, then stopped halfway.

"Damian."

He looked up.

"We're doing this to change the future. Don't forget that."

Her voice was steady. Rational.

He understood what she meant.

"I know."

"Good."

And then she left.

—

Damian let out a slow breath, dragging a hand through his hair.

Damian and Elena—two people who had once promised never to see each other again after their breakup—had reunited not because of lingering feelings, but because they shared the same goal.

To change the future.

They had shared secrets no one else knew.

They had saved the princess who was destined to die.

They had prevented the foreign believers from invading the academy.

They had rewritten events that once ended in tragedy.

Their bond was built on necessity. On shared knowledge. On aligned purpose.

Nothing more.

There was always a line that should not be crossed.

He knew that.

He remembered clearly—this relationship resumed only because their opinions matched. Because they needed each other to avoid the worst possible ending.

To think beyond that…

To want more…

That would be greedy.

Arrogant.

Dangerous.

Damian clenched his fist against his chest, feeling the steady thud beneath his palm.

"Don't misunderstand," he whispered to himself.

This wasn't love.

It was residual emotion.

Leftover attachment.

Habit.

That was all.

He lowered his hand slowly.

His name was Damian Kraus.

He took a step forward.

The wooden floor creaked under his weight.

Tomorrow, they would meet again—not as former lovers, not as something undefined—but as partners bound by a single objective.

And he would make sure that was all they were.

Even if his heart refused to listen.