Ink: Living Life as Serena Gleis

Chapter V: First Dance.

After nearly half an hour of polite exchanges, the hall now brimmed with the strains of classical music—a familiar melody, reminiscent of those cheesy romantic movies where the leads would inevitably begin a slow, enchanting dance.

In my past life, I never learned to dance that way. Perhaps I had lessons in high school, but who cared about those? I was taught by the Duke's official etiquette instructors, yet I could never master the steps. Serena's body is too timid to move with the grace these dances demand. Eventually, I gave up, and the teachers did too. They advised me to stay out of sight and behave in a corner, which is precisely what I'm doing now. 

Girls my age—well, Serena's age—began to fill the center of the hall. They danced gracefully with their partners, moving with an elegance I could only envy.

They seem happy and careless.

Would I ever feel like that, here? In Serena's body?

I can't help but wonder if there will ever be a time when I can live without constantly treading on eggshells, a time when I can be carefree. How does it feel to exist without a worry in the world, to simply be happy in the moment?

I don't know. Serena or the real me would never know.

The crowd gasped in awe as they witnessed the princess and the first prince dancing, now the undeniable center of attention. As expected of the imperial family, they moved with a flawless grace, dancing as if they had twenty years of experience despite their youth.

"Shame," whispered the Duchess Liberia of Gleis, my stepmother, from behind me.  

"I apologize, Mother," I murmured. My stepmother hailed from a modest lineage; as far as I know, she was merely the daughter of a baron from a small town. Her ascent to power began only with her marriage to the Duke.

She is a despicable, materialistic woman, consumed by an insatiable desire for beauty, fame, money, and power. The thought of being overshadowed fills her with rage.

It's almost absurd. Her envy extends even to the Empress and the imperial family.

I settled into my usual seat, resigned to the fact that no one would ask me to dance—and I didn't want them to. If I tried, I'd only make a fool of myself. Caspian was nowhere in sight, and Emyr was dancing with a young noble lady I couldn't place. The scene before me was a reminder of the chasm between their world and mine.

"Look at her."

"She looks pathetic."

"Who would ever want to dance with a witch's child anyway."

"Don't look at her, you'll be cursed."

"Honey, try harder. Mere words like that won't even cause a scratch," I thought, dismissing the spoiled brats around me. Ignoring them seemed the wisest choice. Yet, a nagging concern lingered—would the Duke see this as a disgrace to his family? It felt like no matter what I did, I was always in the wrong.

I rose from my seat and made my way to the buffet area, craving a drink to soothe my nerves. As I navigated through the throng, I caught a glimpse of the Emperor. Our eyes met unexpectedly, and to my surprise, he held my gaze, a smirk playing on his lips.

The Emperor may appear handsome for his age, but the thought of becoming a stepmother to children the same age as my current body was enough to give me pause. I'd consider it if I still inhabited my old body.

Oh what am I thinking?

Unconsciously, a laugh escaped my lips at the absurdity of my thoughts. It was the first time I had laughed since arriving here.