I Became the Heroine’s Stand-in - Chapter 77

“This is…”

Diana trailed off, staring at the outstretched hand before her.

The elegant fingers, the faint traces of calluses, the steady presence of Ersivan Valencia.

A silent invitation.

The waltz that had just begun was slower, more intimate.

Couples had already begun moving, some with foreheads pressed together, others with gazes locked, their steps measured, deliberate.

Ersivan, standing before her, waited patiently, his crimson eyes fixed on her alone.

She swallowed.

Dancing… with him?

“I believe we have yet to share our first dance as husband and wife.”

His voice was calm, yet undeniably expectant.

Diana hesitated.

A dance.

Not for appearances, not for politics, not to perform—but simply because he had asked her to.

Her heart, which had been pounding in tension moments ago, now thudded for an entirely different reason.

“I…”

She wasn’t sure why she hesitated.

And he noticed.

Ersivan leaned in slightly, his voice dropping to a gentle murmur meant only for her.

“You look exhausted,” he observed. “I thought perhaps a slow dance might be less tiring than standing amid a sea of strangers.”

Diana let out a quiet laugh despite herself.

Even now, he spoke as though he were merely offering assistance, rather than asking her to dance.

It was just like him—subtle, yet unwavering.

The last time she had danced at a ball, it had been a performance—a carefully practiced routine, meant to please and impress.

But this…

This felt different.

Her gaze drifted toward the dance floor, where noblemen and ladies moved in effortless synchronization.

A waltz.

Slow, steady, almost hypnotic.

A dance meant for those who wished to savor the moment.

And then, slowly—almost unconsciously—she placed her hand in his.

A warmth immediately enveloped her fingers, steady and firm.

Ersivan’s lips curved faintly, as if he had been expecting her answer all along.

“Shall we?”

Without another word, he led her onto the dance floor.

The moment they stepped into the center of the room, conversations dipped, eyes turned toward them—the Duke and Duchess of Valencia taking their first official dance together.

A hush settled over the room, anticipation hanging in the air like a weight.

And yet— Despite the hundreds of eyes on them—Diana felt as if it were only the two of them in the world.

Ersivan guided her with ease, his movements fluid and confident, his touch gentle yet firm.

She barely had to think.

Her body followed his lead, as if it had always known how to move with him.

Their steps fell into perfect harmony, and for the first time in the entire evening—she felt at ease.

No weight of expectation, no whispers of judgment—just the sound of the orchestra, the steady rhythm of their movements, and the subtle warmth of his hand in hers.

When had she last felt this at peace?

She wasn’t sure.

And so, for now—she let herself be led.

Slender fingers coaxed her, as if urging her to take hold of the beautiful hand reaching out to her. Mesmerized, she instinctively clasped it without hesitation.

Starting with the large hand resting on her slender waist, the two began to move in harmony.

“You must be inexperienced since it’s your first time.”

“It’s practically my first time as well.”

That was true. Ersivan had never hosted or attended a banquet before, so he had never danced with a partner.

Realizing this eased some of her nervousness.

Their clasped hands traced an arc up and down. Suddenly, Ersivan’s arm lifted, releasing their intertwined hands.

Diana spun gracefully in a circle before returning to her original position. Their hands, briefly apart, found each other again and clasped firmly.

Now drawn closer together, they exchanged glances as they took slow, measured steps.

As their intense gazes held, Diana smiled subtly.

“As expected, Evan is still Evan.”

Diana’s fluid movements were impressive, but it was Ersivan’s precise and steady lead that allowed her to execute them so effortlessly.

“Is that so?”

Again, that unreadable expression.

“Yes. Thanks to you, I’m feeling a bit self-conscious.”

“Perhaps I should have shown a more relaxed, less refined performance.”

Ersivan murmured to himself, sending a chill down her spine. Knowing him, he would deliberately bungle the dance just to prove a point.

“…Now that I think about it, this is better. If we’re both clumsy, it’ll be too obvious.”

“Is that so? Then I suppose I’ll continue as I am. I wouldn’t want my wife to be concerned.”

“…Yes.”

Diana shook her head from side to side, as if silently telling him to do as he pleased.

The soft melody reached its climax. At the peak of the music, just as in the introduction, she spun lightly.

For a fleeting moment, time seemed to stretch endlessly—was it just her imagination?

Following his lead, she turned, and in that brief instant, the entire ballroom unfolded before her in fragmented glimpses.

It was then that she noticed it—the piercing gazes.

Rather than enjoying the banquet, people had gathered, watching their dance in a trance.

“…We’re attracting quite a bit of attention.”

“Does it make you uncomfortable?”

“Well… a little.”

After all, the more attention they received, the more likely it was that any imperfections would be noticed.

“Shall I make them stop watching?”

Ersivan made the suggestion casually, as if her discomfort had given him an excuse to act. He had already found the hungry stares directed at the dazzling figure before him to be irritating.

“How?”

“Their eyes…”

He was about to say he could simply pluck out their eyes, but at the last moment, he realized that would be inappropriate.

Instead, he fell silent before finishing his sentence.

“Their eyes?” she prompted.

“…If I tell them to close them, surely they will.”

It was a hasty but well-covered deflection.

Still, he couldn’t entirely escape her incredulous stare. Yet, it was far better than the contempt he would have received had he voiced his original thought.

“Not the most unreasonable request, I suppose.”

His voice cracked slightly at the end, laced with playful mischief. Diana, almost unconsciously, found herself curious about what absurd remark he would make next.

“Did you not know?” he asked.

“…?”

“There is a custom followed by the hosts of these banquets.”

His ambiguous words rippled through her thoughts. A phrase she had once heard and dismissed now returned like a dagger, lodging itself firmly in her mind.

There was indeed a performance conducted when the banquet host was married.

A customary welcome gesture, offered as gratitude to guests who took the time to attend—especially for young couples who had only recently wed, it was nearly an obligatory ritual.

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