Half a month drifted like morning mist, and the first trial for the Flower Dancer opened on cue, lantern-bright and drum-steady.

“Flower Dancer” once meant the embodiment of truth, goodness, and beauty, like three petals on one stem under moonlight. From those three rules came three trials, each a gate in the garden.

The first trial answered to beauty, a ball held under the nation’s gaze, like a lake catching starlight and throwing it back.

Its flow was simple, like a river with a few stones. Besides a few special rules—such as the partner must be an Elf—it matched any regular ball in shape.

At the same time, the Sealing Array carried the scene like wind over grass, streaming it live to every Elf in the Elven Realm.

In other words, entertainment outran everything, a bright fire set for the whole forest to watch.

Compared to the next two trials, whose shadows spread like storm fronts, this one felt like an appetizer, light and fragrant before the main course.

Still, a well-made appetizer can shift a meal’s mood, like a warm spice waking a sleeping tongue, and twist outcomes in quiet ways.

Back at the manor, Queen Dreamlan had reminded Adelaide of this first trial’s weight, her voice like silk with a hidden blade.

The big families had advisors who could stand beside a queen sleeping for millennia, like old pines rooted through stone, steady in every wind.

Naturally, both the Carne Family and the Illuin Family poured gold like rain, built a full pipeline from scouting to training, and netted every idle star.

Potential candidates who hadn’t competed yet clustered under their banners like migrating swans, drawn by grain and song and tall promises.

By contrast, the Fana Family lacked such time-layered systems, like a field without terraces; they lacked top-tier dance coaches, like a well without a bucket.

Under public pressure, only one candidate leaned their way, a lone lamp in a long night, where other families fielded five or six flames plus spare torches.

Even so, they held one edge like a hidden blade kept close: they had asked the right person.

Mellow flute met bright guzheng like spring rain on bamboo leaves; the pipa flowed with the beat like a river on smooth stones.

Dozens of pairs swirled across the floor, skirts lifting like petals caught in a warm breeze, light spilling like honey on polished wood.

In a sea of near-uniform gold, where status showed by hair length like grain height, one streak of pure white cut through like moon on ink.

“That is…?” “Did I see that right?” “No way…” Voices buzzed like bees around a blossom, then broke like ripples under a thrown pebble.

She stepped right-forward, then drew back, feet like swallows tracing arcs; hands met and parted, silk gliding like water along skin.

One gold, one white, two figures turned like twin comets, catching far more eyes than the Fana Family’s fires could ever promise.

“Didn’t think there’d be a bold soul who’d invite a ‘queen’ as a partner,” a soft voice murmured, velvet with thorns, then spun away like a leaf.

After a quick turn, Adelaide slid that narrow waist back into her arm, warm as a curve of sunlight, and the crowd’s gasp rose like surf.

“I’m not mistaken, right? That’s Queen Dreamlan? Queen Dreamlan?! Queen Dreamlan, aaah!” A shout shot up like a firework in a dark field.

“Wait, what’s with that human? Did she sneak in? I heard several refugees vanished near the border, security—” Bang— a fist cut him off like thunder.

“Idiot, would Her Majesty dance with some sneaking human?” Another voice snapped like a twig underfoot, sharp with scorn and clear as frost.

“Hold on, there’s an ephemeral blossom emblem on her chest, right? Has Fana finally lost it—” Bang— another fist fell like a hammer on steel.

“Ow— my skull! Stop hitting me! I didn’t say the queen lost it!” His protest wilted like grass under sudden sun, beaten flat by heat.

Hearing the rising chatter, the queen’s laugh chimed like glass in a breeze, light and bright with a teasing glow.

“They’re not wrong. I’m probably mad,” she said, hand on Adelaide’s shoulder like a lazy cat, beauty sweet and languid with hidden claws.

A brief spin, then she slid back in, the motion smooth as silk; faces surfaced all around like koi in clear water.

“Compared to my simple relay request, this isn’t just ‘a small favor,’ my dear Adelaide,” she added, voice like wine warmed by candlelight.

Adelaide answered with the same warm smile, feet steady as drumbeats. Imperial and Eastern rhythms differ like sun and moon, yet she flowed native-smooth.

Emotion steadied first, then actions followed like shadows. Her heart felt calm as a pond, and her steps matched the queen’s tide.

“But you still came, didn’t you?” she said, words soft as dusk rain, trust rising like a lantern lit by careful hands.

“I’m a responsible advisor, so I’ll take the little loss,” the queen sighed, shrugging like a bird shaking dew from its wing.

“As for you, unless I’ve mixed up eras like old maps, I already told you most choose their partner for the first half, for perfect fit.”

“Please don’t worry. Your memory’s sharp as a blade. You did say that— and that’s why you agreed to me, isn’t it?”

Queen Dreamlan blinked, mischief glittering like foxfire. “Oh? Is this a confession?” Her smile curled like smoke, sweet and sly.

The music crested like a wave. Adelaide drew the queen closer, their chests near-touching like petals press-kissed by wind, heat brushing like breath.

“A confession— that works,” she said, nodding with a smile, words smooth as silk. “But the confessor isn’t me, and the one accepting isn’t me either.”

Her gaze drifted toward the green belt, leaves dark as jade. She felt it— beast-bright eyes burning like coals locked onto her.

Protective hunger pulsed like a low growl. Whether intended or not, it marked its food like pawprints in damp earth.

“I wondered why you didn’t limit contestants by race, yet forced partners to be Elves. It seems you crafted a chance to share this floor with her.”

The queen didn’t answer. A soft hum slipped out, like a thread pulled taut, then loosened by gentle fingers.

“Now you bait jealousy by using me as a decoy, a lure tossed like a bright lure under a watchful hawk,” Adelaide said, voice mild as tea.

“I don’t mind. As the step that persuades her to meet you, I’m happy to be the fragrance that smooths the air, Your Majesty.”

“You’re almost too clever, headache-sharp,” the queen said, tone half-sigh, half-smile, eyes like polished jade. “You look more and more like that annoying one— a compliment.”

She pressed closer, fully leaning into Adelaide like a willow seeking a riverbank. The crowd burst in cries like sparrows lifted by a sudden gust.

Yet at Adelaide’s ear, the queen’s breath held a rueful note, a cloud passing the sun. “Blame that little cat’s stubbornness. I’ll have to inconvenience you.”

Her mouth tipped into a wicked smile, a crescent moon with a bite. “Collateral, too— your own one might gnash her teeth with jealousy.”

“…Your Majesty, I said it already. ‘Finger-play’ was an unpleasant misunderstanding. We’re both perfectly normal humans,” Adelaide answered, tone cool as spring water.

“Hehe, just a joke,” the queen said, laughter skipping like a pebble across a lake. She finally loosened her hold, letting the tension drain like sand.

As the band’s music neared its end, the final notes fell like petals, and time thinned like fog at sunrise.

“I’m more curious about your plan for the second half,” she asked, direct as an arrow, eyes steady like stars in deep water.

The ball had two halves. The first half was the love-beauty between partners whose hearts matched like twin mirrors catching the same moon.

The second half chased pure, aggressive technique, a beauty like steel gleaming cold, testing reflex and will like winter wind on bare rock.

At midline, every contestant must swap partners, a rule like a gate that forced a change of scenery and tested vision beyond one angle.

The original intent was to test understanding of beauty; true understanding sees many views, like mountains from valley and ridge.

Politics warped that aim like ivy twisting a tree; partners swapped into rival camps often launched unfamiliar steps like foreign tides stealing shore.

They danced harder, sharper, sometimes with non-native forms, trying to seize rhythm like a fencer taking center line, cutting away the other’s breath.

For the one challenged, losing the beat or control looked ugly, like a stumble on a bright stage, so they fought back, steel to steel.

Thus the second half became less continuation and more duel, a dance-fight leaning on skill and reaction, quick as lightning between cliff and cloud.

“You’ve got me as a headline, and your crash-course looks clean, good enough to catch eyes like fireflies,” the queen said, tone gentle as dusk.

“But your next partner won’t be kind. She’ll pick from the steps you crammed these days, poking holes like rain on thin paper.”

Adelaide only smiled and shook her head, calm as a stone in a stream, resolve rooted like a pine clutching cliff.

“If I weren’t ready, I wouldn’t have asked Your Majesty to risk joining me. Please rest easy,” she said, warmth steady like banked coals.

She stepped forward one last time, leading Queen Dreamlan through a high-difficulty lean, bodies like twin swallows grazing water, then parted with natural ease.

Across the floor, another contestant closed out her first half, skirts embroidered with red clivia, petals like embers winking along silk.

Her gaze toward Adelaide flashed open hostility, sharp as a blade drawn at noon, green eyes narrowed to slits like a hunting cat.

Queen Dreamlan saw it and spoke low, a whisper only Adelaide could catch, a flute-line under drum thunder. “Nice. You’re lit now, burning hot.”

“Even the Carne Family counts you a rival,” she added, words light as drifting snow, mischief rippling like a cat’s tail.

She stepped right and took the other’s hand, the exchange as smooth as water trading banks, ritual complete like a bell closing a prayer.

Adelaide faced her own new partner, taller by a head, gaze cold as winter lakes, pressure rolling in like a storm over wheat.

She knew it. The only goal there was to make her stumble, to scatter her steps like leaves in a rough wind.

Alright, the time had come, a moment held like a breath before the leap. Adelaide exhaled, calm settling like dust after a drumbeat.

Eyes closed, she bowed slightly, a reed bending to wind, then she offered her hand, palm steady as a moonlit plate.

Sudden weightlessness seized her, a backward falling like a gull caught by a playful current— then a warm hold wrapped her, soft as fur.

A tingling ran through her body like current under skin; a familiar camellia scent bloomed, deep and sweet, like red petals in rain.

“She is my partner.” The voice rang like silver bells, each word a bead, the tone firm as a claim carved in stone.

Adelaide opened her eyes. A gold-haired, green-eyed Elf with long ears held her, bright as a blade in sunlight and just as clear.

In that instant, laughter almost broke free, a sparrow beating its wings in her chest, delighted and helpless at once.