Windsor leaned against Baron, her face pale with nervousness. "It’s the young master of the Walter Family. Rumor has it he’s short-tempered..."

Short-tempered was an understatement. If Baron hadn’t confirmed Gold was unarmed, he would have thought the guy might pull out a Big Saber and start hacking away at any second.

’Is this an enemy of the Constantine Family? Or is he just coming for Windsor.’

Baron frowned instinctively. He didn’t think his current public identity as a Westminster Commissioner should have earned him any enemies—unless it was some jealous type who was annoyed by how much he was showing off.

But according to Stella, a man who wasn’t flamboyant would never be able to catch Freya’s eye.

Baron said, "Do you know how to do spinning turns? In a moment, you and I will use them to leave the floor."

His mission was to find a chance to be alone with Freya and convince her to clear his name. He didn’t want any unnecessary complications.

Windsor nodded. She had been formally trained in ballet and could spin on her toes for an hour without stopping.

The music played on, and the dancing continued. The guests’ steps were as polite and refined as ever. No matter how fast or intense the music became, all they did was quicken their pace.

Their posture was the same, their technique was the same, and even their smiles were just as uniform and predictable as ever.

They were like perfectly wound dolls. Everything was already planned out; the only thing you could do was make the spring unwind faster.

Baron placed a hand on Windsor’s shoulder, gradually backing away with the steps of the dance, intending to find an opportunity to leave the circle of dancers.

’Freya has already noticed me. The next step is to have Windsor introduce us.’

With this in mind, they gradually made their way to the outermost edge of the dance circle.

The dance floor was divided into three circles. The outer circle was for guests who weren’t as skilled or were just there to relax. The second circle was for the ballroom dancing experts, and the innermost circle was for Gold and his partner, Kesha.

Kesha was in a long, black, high-slit dress, her dancing as stunning and dazzling as her appearance. Paired with Gold’s overpowering aura, they looked just like an Emperor dancing with his lover.

On a raised platform, Andy sipped his red wine and narrowed his eyes slightly.

It was hard to imagine that Gold, this burly Demon Hunter, could also be such a good dancer. Every one of his steps landed on the beat, and every movement was full of masculine agility, like a great lion poised under the sun, ready to strike.

In comparison, Baron looked like an infant just learning to walk.

He had captured the gazes of all the surrounding ladies.

Including Freya.

Baron wasn’t thinking about any of that; he just wanted to get off the floor. Windsor seemed to read his mind, and she cooperatively slowed her steps, heading toward the edge of the dance floor.

But a black whirlwind blocked their path!

The man held the woman, spinning her in his embrace. Beneath the black silk was skin as white as a lamb’s and long, slender legs like a dancer’s... they were unequivocally a dancer’s legs!

Gold smiled at Baron. "If you don’t know the tango, you can learn. I’ll teach you."

’So he really is after me. What, do I just attract trouble? People come looking for me even when I’m in disguise?’

Baron instinctively rolled his eyes. Gold caught the movement, and a flicker of anger flashed in his eyes.

He tightened his grip on Kesha’s hand.

She understood instantly. A smile that was ostentatious to the point of inanity spread across her face. In time with the music, she raised her leg high, then planted her foot. Her black skirt slipped, and the sight of the smooth, nearly-nude skin beneath it drew the eyes of many gentlemen in the room.

She raised her arms high, her hands interlocking like a lotus blossom.

Gold let out a cold snort and also raised a hand to take hers. The woman lifted her high-heeled shoe, her black skirt blooming open with her spin, revealing a flash of red from its sole.

Guided by Gold’s hand, she moved toward Baron like the brilliant flash of a striking blade.

’Looks like they don’t want us to leave. A show of force aimed at Westminster?’

Windsor was terrified, but Baron put his arm around her waist and said, "Don’t be afraid! I’ll count three, two, one. When I let go, you spin off the floor."

"What about you?"

In ballroom dancing, being left alone on the floor before the music has ended is often considered a breach of etiquette.

"Me?" Baron chuckled, a faint smile playing on his lips beneath his mask. "Etiquette is just an empty shell if it can’t bring you Gold."

"Alright, get ready! One, two, three! Let go!"

Just as Kesha and Gold spun toward them, Baron used the momentum to release Windsor to the side while he, in a similar fashion, spun backward in retreat.

The black, blade-like dance swept past between them. Gold’s icy gaze made Windsor tremble, but she followed Baron’s instructions and left the dance floor.

Leaving Baron all alone... disgraced?

Suddenly, the style of the music changed again!

The tuxedoed pianist on the bench was pushed aside as a figure gracefully took his place. Ink-black hair, and a red dress as bewitching as Fire. 𝒻𝓇𝑒𝘦𝘸𝑒𝒷𝓃ℴ𝑣𝘦𝑙.𝒸ℴ𝘮

It was the young woman in the red dress who had indirectly helped Jack out of his predicament earlier.

In an instant, hundreds of pairs of eyes in the ballroom focused on the figure in red.

She placed her hands on the keys, her fingers fluttering like butterflies, yet the melody was like the glint of flashing blades cutting across a battlefield.

"Continue on in this key."

The young woman in red commanded the tuxedoed pianist, her tone so nonchalant, yet it carried the authority of a Queen.

The moment the dazed pianist pressed the keys, she rose, pulled out the pin holding up her hair, and her long, ink-black hair tumbled down and cascaded over her shoulders!

She lifted her red skirt, revealing a pair of long, straight, flawless legs.

She used the hairpin to pin the hiked-up portion of her red skirt, then tied the fabric at her waist with a long sash, revealing the soft lines of her arms.

Her steps were light as she moved toward Baron. To call it walking would be a misnomer; it was a dance form unlike any seen before. Her high heels were like curved blades, carving one perfect circle after another. She paused with her arms above her head, then spun, like a red bird soaring along a cliff’s edge.