Chapter 628

Since the night before, Henry had felt something was off. Ever since he’d touched Vivianus’ artificial chest, something inexplicable had shifted. A man typically indifferent to desire, he’d found himself dreaming of Vivianus as a woman. They had kissed. Nothing more, but even that was unusual for him. Henry was a man of restraint, and Vivianus was, unmistakably, a man. Waking up, he was caught off guard, not just by the dream itself, but by the faint, unfamiliar stirrings it left behind.

Now, as he had to face Vivianus again, dance in close contact, bodies aligned, his head throbbed with unease. Worse, his eyes betrayed him. They kept returning to Vivianus, drawn as if by instinct. His heartbeat had begun to race, quietly but undeniably.

It wasn’t the first time he’d stepped on Shirley’s foot. He was distracted, restless, and too unfocused to keep rhythm. Mistakes followed, one after another.

Shirley gave him a look. “Henry, could you not step on my foot again?”

He didn’t reply. Instead, he crouched down and said, “Lift your foot.”

She complied without protest. The heels she wore, tall, elegant, and unforgiving, had left the top of her foot red and slightly swollen where he’d stepped on it. Yet she hadn’t winced once.

He slipped off her shoe to check. It didn’t seem serious, but something caught his attention. Her foot was striking, delicately shaped and soft to the touch, not a blemish in sight. It felt noble, as if it belonged to someone born into privilege. Henry couldn’t help but suspect that before Vivianus lost his memory, he must have come from a wealthy and prominent family, and only lost his memory after being injured during military service. After the banquet, perhaps he could help Vivianus search for their past.

He touched her foot lightly. “Does it hurt?”

Shirley tilted her head. “Not really. Just tickles a little. As long as you don’t step on it again, we’ll be fine.”

He thought the swelling warranted ointment. Asking her to wait, he stepped out and returned with a tube of cream. Shirley was now seated in a single armchair, one leg crossed neatly over the other, sipping coffee brewed by her assistant and gazing out the window. Beyond the glass lay the training grounds, where officers moved in formation. Henry paused when he saw her. The moment had a quiet beauty to it, enough that he wanted to capture it on canvas.

Lately, he’d been sketching her often. His mecha’s cockpit, even his room, held drawings of her. There weren’t many people who stirred that urge in him. Shirley was one of the rare few.

He knelt, removed her shoe, and gently applied the cream.

Shirley leaned her chin on her hand. “You’re not planning to step on me again later, are you?”

Henry gave a faint smile. “Hard to say. Depends how it goes.”

She considered him a moment. “You know,” she said, “with your coordination, I’d expect you to pick up partner dancing easily. Haven’t danced before?”

Henry had, though not often, and only when circumstance required it. The style of partnered dance in the Kingdom of Xyperia wasn’t so different from what he remembered back on Earth.

“Rarely,” he admitted.

“That so?” She nodded, satisfied. “Well, do your best. If you can’t keep up, I’ll have no choice but to find someone else to take your place.”

Something sparked in him then, sharp and unspoken. He didn’t want anyone else dancing with Vivianus.