In ‘Scent of a Woman’, the blind and retired Lieutenant Colonel Franklin dances with a young lady to this music in a high-class restaurant. Por Una Cabeza was a world-famous tango.
Most would have heard of it before, even if they couldn’t dance.
The whole banquet hall was still pitch black. Aside from the music, the silhouettes of all of the trainees were still enshrouded by the deep darkness.
Everyone was wondering who the mysterious instructor was and who had managed to identify the instructor within the span of a song. Unfortunately, the hall was without the barest glimmer of light, not affording them any chance to sate their curiosity.
After raging on the live broadcast for a while, purportedly with the system even blocking the accounts of the more nasty comments in the chat, the furore subsided and the atmosphere became one of divergent thinking and speculation.
[Has anyone else maxed out the volume, trying to guess in the dark who is the instructor? Hahahahaha.]
[Sobs, me here. But I only heard a series of rhythmic footfalls. It’s too depressing, I’m going crazy.]
[Sigh. Sisters, rather than guessing who is the instructor from the voices, how about guessing the trainee who found the instructor? I’ll put forward my conjectures first. Since that trainee can spot the instructor so quickly, they must have some history. Even if they don’t know each other that well, they’d still at least be familiar with each other… otherwise, it would be too outrageous to pick out the other just from the opening song.]
[I wanted to point that out, too. Since the instructor could be found so quickly, then that person must have had his guesses on who the instructor was. The instructor must have another identity as a trainee, but it’s so weird. If somebody had long known who the instructor was, why didn’t he say a thing?]
[That is indeed a mystery… Maybe the instructor and the trainee have a deep emotional line, so, erm, y’know. A secret deal was struck to keep it under wraps?]
While they were all speculating, still without any awareness that they were gradually drawing closer to the truth, there was another drastic change to the scene.
No sooner than the violin prelude started had Zong Jiu reflexively pivoted and raised one hand, ready to seize the lead.
Inviting the Devil to a dance was pushing his limits. If he was being made to follow further, Zong Jiu would rather just rage quit.
However, the most awkward thing was that at the same moment he raised his hand, the person behind him also did and, with a low laugh, placed his hand very naturally on the waist of the white-haired young man.
A cold exhale brushed past his nape like a slithering snake, boring under the open white shirt and eliciting faint tremors across the pale skin.
A white-gloved hand unyieldingly pried apart the Magician’s five fingers, clasping his hand, suggestively rubbing the bare skin along the edge of the leather gloves, and teasingly leaving a trail of coolness.
That was the ladies’ step!
Zong Jiu gritted his teeth. He stiffly pushed and pulled back to create momentum and break free.
In the end, just as he took a step out and was but a moment from leaving the Devil’s embrace, the cold mechanical voice of the system rang out in Zong Jiu’s mind.
[Warning: The trainee must complete this dance, or else it will be regarded as having forfeited the third segment.]
Zong Jiu, “…”
The leg that stepped out forcibly twisted back in. He executed a spin, stepping squarely on the tip of the black leather shoe, crushing it with his entire body weight.
The hand on his waist tightened marginally in admonition.
No. 1 was in a splendid mood after successfully subduing the Magician, his pleasure written across his face.
“Are you behaving now?”
Ktf wjc’r jwerfv nblmf gjcu bea lc tlr fjg, atf ajli fcv ilialcu klat atf rilutafra tlca bo mjgfifrr ijhlcfrr, jr lo tf tjv ibcu fzqfmafv atf batfg ab wjxf atf gluta mtblmf jcskjs.
Behave?
Ibcu Ale, qgfrrfv jujlcra atf Gfnli’r lms mtfra, mbeiv offi atf ygeaji mbcajma bo atf batfg’r rwbbat wermeijaegf jujlcra tlr rqlcf. Lf rmboofv lcafgcjiis.
Since his hand was caught, he simply flipped his hand to return the clasp, spinning around and staring unrelentingly at the pair of dark golden irises behind the mask.
Word had it that the tango was a dance that originated in Latin America.
Unlike the elegant and fairytale-esque waltz or the fast and passionate rumba, the tango was more like a lover’s whisper, a secret game where partners held each other at arm’s length, yet the dance steps caused the lower bodies to intertwine.
The story went that men wore short blades under their jacket lapels when dancing the tango, for it was like dancers defiantly throwing themselves into the heat of a battle and a contest. Rather than displaying the suppleness of their bodies, it was a rivalry, with a collision that was neither too near nor far at its essence.
Zong Jiu threw him a provocative smile, the corners of his mouth ticking up under the mask as he danced the male step regardless.
How should two men dance the tango?
They held eye contact through the masks, both dressed similarly, hiding the same crazy soul under the skin.
Thick aggression swelled in the darkness as they confronted each other. The air was charged with tension.
The two men went toe-to-toe on the dance floor, neither relinquishing the lead.
It was like a battle so closely tied that the winner wasn’t apparent, and it was also like a game where they were both chasing the other.
As one advanced, the other retreated.
It was a powerful and beautiful confrontation. Both were adamant not to be the first to expose vulnerability.
Even if the deep darkness obscured everyone’s vision, they could still guess the current expression on each other’s faces with barely any effort.
Under the icy skin, in the icy heart—the same blood was rushing through the two completely different bodies.
The concertmaster flicked his wrist beautifully, and the bow slid from the low G to the high E string. The previously soothing music instantly became impassioned, like the mournful cry of a swan before death.
The smile on the Devil’s face deepened even further and he casually plucked the wrists of the person in his arms from the air.
The latter did not dodge but followed the force forward, like an unstoppable silver-white dagger, plunging straight towards the Devil’s chest—cutting through the warped and thick exterior and piercing into the pulsing crimson organ, embedding deeply in the heart.
The far distance between them pulled close.
The proximity between them was so intimate that their breaths mixed. Without an ounce of sentiment, after the brief contact, they parted.
Long silvery-white hair fanned out in the darkness.
Zong Jiu spun in the dark and only then realised that his mask had fallen off at some point during the intense dance earlier. His disguise was no longer intact.
His height had changed back as well; he dramatically shrunk several centimetres.
But the clothes on him did not change. He was still wearing No. 1’s three-piece suit.
The white and black gloves were clasped together, and the tail of the suit flared in a graceful arc.
They were fixed at a distance neither far nor near.
The trainees around them seemed to hear something was off, and they gradually stopped dancing.
In the large banquet hall, there was only one pair still dancing.
[I hear that! I bet that it is the instructor dancing.]
[Wah, me too, I heard it too. The noises… hot damn, it sounds so intense!]
[Oh my lord, it’s clearly the usual sound of dancing, and yet for some reason, it gives the impression of a stubborn showdown, dying to make the other immediately… ahem. Anyway, tldr, I get the feeling that they are not dancing but fighting.]
[+1, turns out I’m not the only one.]
[+10086. For real. Are the two of them really dancing? I have evidence to suspect that they are having a go at it!]
…
Another bar went by. The black-haired man reached out but only managed to catch wisps of the Magician’s hair in the air, and even those slipped out of his grasp.
Unusually still, he stared at his fingers with an expression that was both joyful and furious.
But it was only for a fleeting moment. After that, another unreadable smile spread across his face.
“This is too dull. Why don’t we play a game.”
Here it was, the Devil’s favourite part of the programme. Playing games.
When it came to playing games, the Devil would conduct himself well. Zong Jiu had played many games with him and won solidly each time.
Recalling the other party’s appearance in defeat, the white-haired young man raised his eyebrows with interest. “Oh? Tell me more.”
The Magician also enjoyed playing games. Furthermore, after one game, he’d still want to play another and didn’t mind playing with the Devil.
No. 1 showed an unhappy expression.
“The system told me that an A-rank ant will be the new No. 9 at the close of the ball.
“If you win this game, I don’t mind…”
He lowered his voice, faint mirth shining through his voice. “Pulling some strings for Your Excellency the Magician.”
Zong Jiu narrowed his eyes.
Zhuge An had already nagged at him more than once to reach S-rank as soon as possible.
Because only S-ranks qualified for the final showdown.
If he didn’t advance to S-rank this time, then he could only hope for the best in the upcoming S+ rank instance. A longer delay would only spell trouble.
“Sure.” Zong Jiu readily agreed. “What are the rules?”
The black-haired man smiled cryptically, his well-defined hand stretching into the shadows.
The next second, a white-gloved hand poked out of the shadows at the other end with unerring accuracy, reaching into the Magician’s pocket.
“Hm? Why is it not there?”
With the ability to shuttle through shadows at will, the Devil blatantly put his hands into Zong Jiu’s pockets, checking each one of them across his body.
Sure enough, the decision to seek poker cards from the Magician’s body was the right one.
The cold hand whispered across the taut thigh muscles, systematically exploring the pants pocket at his own pace, before he slowly retrieved a deck of cards from within.
“Found it.”
The black-haired man hummed happily as he casually spread the cards and flung them into the air.
Evading the fierce wind as the other slashed next to his arm, he said merrily, “As long as you can catch the joker, the No. 9 position is yours.”
If it were as simple as that, then he wouldn’t be the Devil.
As expected, he glimpsed puppet strings glinting amidst the flurry of falling cards.
As soon as No. 1 finished speaking, Zong Jiu started to move.
He ignored the endless obstacles, and even if he was restricted by invisible puppet strings, his fingers still stretched out like a plant towards the sun.
Soon, the last card fell silently to the ground.
Like an echo, the violin also played the last note and ended in silence.
The Devil sighed, faux regret in his tone. “Seems that this time it’s my…”
The Magician stomped on his black leather shoes and jerked his head up, a challenge in his eyes.
In his mouth, a white-edged card held firmly between his lips, the scarlet joker grinning broadly.
Joker; the king bomb.
In ‘Scent of a Woman’, the blind and retired Lieutenant Colonel Franklin dances with a young lady to this music in a high-class restaurant. Por Una Cabeza was a world-famous tango.
Most would have heard of it before, even if they couldn’t dance.
The whole banquet hall was still pitch black. Aside from the music, the silhouettes of all of the trainees were still enshrouded by the deep darkness.
Everyone was wondering who the mysterious instructor was and who had managed to identify the instructor within the span of a song. Unfortunately, the hall was without the barest glimmer of light, not affording them any chance to sate their curiosity.
After raging on the live broadcast for a while, purportedly with the system even blocking the accounts of the more nasty comments in the chat, the furore subsided and the atmosphere became one of divergent thinking and speculation.
[Has anyone else maxed out the volume, trying to guess in the dark who is the instructor? Hahahahaha.]
[Sobs, me here. But I only heard a series of rhythmic footfalls. It’s too depressing, I’m going crazy.]
[Sigh. Sisters, rather than guessing who is the instructor from the voices, how about guessing the trainee who found the instructor? I’ll put forward my conjectures first. Since that trainee can spot the instructor so quickly, they must have some history. Even if they don’t know each other that well, they’d still at least be familiar with each other… otherwise, it would be too outrageous to pick out the other just from the opening song.]
[I wanted to point that out, too. Since the instructor could be found so quickly, then that person must have had his guesses on who the instructor was. The instructor must have another identity as a trainee, but it’s so weird. If somebody had long known who the instructor was, why didn’t he say a thing?]
[That is indeed a mystery… Maybe the instructor and the trainee have a deep emotional line, so, erm, y’know. A secret deal was struck to keep it under wraps?]
While they were all speculating, still without any awareness that they were gradually drawing closer to the truth, there was another drastic change to the scene.
No sooner than the violin prelude started had Zong Jiu reflexively pivoted and raised one hand, ready to seize the lead.
Inviting the Devil to a dance was pushing his limits. If he was being made to follow further, Zong Jiu would rather just rage quit.
However, the most awkward thing was that at the same moment he raised his hand, the person behind him also did and, with a low laugh, placed his hand very naturally on the waist of the white-haired young man.
A cold exhale brushed past his nape like a slithering snake, boring under the open white shirt and eliciting faint tremors across the pale skin.
A white-gloved hand unyieldingly pried apart the Magician’s five fingers, clasping his hand, suggestively rubbing the bare skin along the edge of the leather gloves, and teasingly leaving a trail of coolness.
That was the ladies’ step!
Zong Jiu gritted his teeth. He stiffly pushed and pulled back to create momentum and break free.
In the end, just as he took a step out and was but a moment from leaving the Devil’s embrace, the cold mechanical voice of the system rang out in Zong Jiu’s mind.
[Warning: The trainee must complete this dance, or else it will be regarded as having forfeited the third segment.]
Zong Jiu, “…”
The leg that stepped out forcibly twisted back in. He executed a spin, stepping squarely on the tip of the black leather shoe, crushing it with his entire body weight.
The hand on his waist tightened marginally in admonition.
No. 1 was in a splendid mood after successfully subduing the Magician, his pleasure written across his face.
“Are you behaving now?”
Ktf wjc’r jwerfv nblmf gjcu bea lc tlr fjg, atf ajli fcv ilialcu klat atf rilutafra tlca bo mjgfifrr ijhlcfrr, jr lo tf tjv ibcu fzqfmafv atf batfg ab wjxf atf gluta mtblmf jcskjs.
Behave?
Ibcu Ale, qgfrrfv jujlcra atf Gfnli’r lms mtfra, mbeiv offi atf ygeaji mbcajma bo atf batfg’r rwbbat wermeijaegf jujlcra tlr rqlcf. Lf rmboofv lcafgcjiis.
Since his hand was caught, he simply flipped his hand to return the clasp, spinning around and staring unrelentingly at the pair of dark golden irises behind the mask.
Word had it that the tango was a dance that originated in Latin America.
Unlike the elegant and fairytale-esque waltz or the fast and passionate rumba, the tango was more like a lover’s whisper, a secret game where partners held each other at arm’s length, yet the dance steps caused the lower bodies to intertwine.
The story went that men wore short blades under their jacket lapels when dancing the tango, for it was like dancers defiantly throwing themselves into the heat of a battle and a contest. Rather than displaying the suppleness of their bodies, it was a rivalry, with a collision that was neither too near nor far at its essence.
Zong Jiu threw him a provocative smile, the corners of his mouth ticking up under the mask as he danced the male step regardless.
How should two men dance the tango?
They held eye contact through the masks, both dressed similarly, hiding the same crazy soul under the skin.
Thick aggression swelled in the darkness as they confronted each other. The air was charged with tension.
The two men went toe-to-toe on the dance floor, neither relinquishing the lead.
It was like a battle so closely tied that the winner wasn’t apparent, and it was also like a game where they were both chasing the other.
As one advanced, the other retreated.
It was a powerful and beautiful confrontation. Both were adamant not to be the first to expose vulnerability.
Even if the deep darkness obscured everyone’s vision, they could still guess the current expression on each other’s faces with barely any effort.
Under the icy skin, in the icy heart—the same blood was rushing through the two completely different bodies.
The concertmaster flicked his wrist beautifully, and the bow slid from the low G to the high E string. The previously soothing music instantly became impassioned, like the mournful cry of a swan before death.
The smile on the Devil’s face deepened even further and he casually plucked the wrists of the person in his arms from the air.
The latter did not dodge but followed the force forward, like an unstoppable silver-white dagger, plunging straight towards the Devil’s chest—cutting through the warped and thick exterior and piercing into the pulsing crimson organ, embedding deeply in the heart.
The far distance between them pulled close.
The proximity between them was so intimate that their breaths mixed. Without an ounce of sentiment, after the brief contact, they parted.
Long silvery-white hair fanned out in the darkness.
Zong Jiu spun in the dark and only then realised that his mask had fallen off at some point during the intense dance earlier. His disguise was no longer intact.
His height had changed back as well; he dramatically shrunk several centimetres.
But the clothes on him did not change. He was still wearing No. 1’s three-piece suit.
The white and black gloves were clasped together, and the tail of the suit flared in a graceful arc.
They were fixed at a distance neither far nor near.
The trainees around them seemed to hear something was off, and they gradually stopped dancing.
In the large banquet hall, there was only one pair still dancing.
[I hear that! I bet that it is the instructor dancing.]
[Wah, me too, I heard it too. The noises… hot damn, it sounds so intense!]
[Oh my lord, it’s clearly the usual sound of dancing, and yet for some reason, it gives the impression of a stubborn showdown, dying to make the other immediately… ahem. Anyway, tldr, I get the feeling that they are not dancing but fighting.]
[+1, turns out I’m not the only one.]
[+10086. For real. Are the two of them really dancing? I have evidence to suspect that they are having a go at it!]
…
Another bar went by. The black-haired man reached out but only managed to catch wisps of the Magician’s hair in the air, and even those slipped out of his grasp.
Unusually still, he stared at his fingers with an expression that was both joyful and furious.
But it was only for a fleeting moment. After that, another unreadable smile spread across his face.
“This is too dull. Why don’t we play a game.”
Here it was, the Devil’s favourite part of the programme. Playing games.
When it came to playing games, the Devil would conduct himself well. Zong Jiu had played many games with him and won solidly each time.
Recalling the other party’s appearance in defeat, the white-haired young man raised his eyebrows with interest. “Oh? Tell me more.”
The Magician also enjoyed playing games. Furthermore, after one game, he’d still want to play another and didn’t mind playing with the Devil.
No. 1 showed an unhappy expression.
“The system told me that an A-rank ant will be the new No. 9 at the close of the ball.
“If you win this game, I don’t mind…”
He lowered his voice, faint mirth shining through his voice. “Pulling some strings for Your Excellency the Magician.”
Zong Jiu narrowed his eyes.
Zhuge An had already nagged at him more than once to reach S-rank as soon as possible.
Because only S-ranks qualified for the final showdown.
If he didn’t advance to S-rank this time, then he could only hope for the best in the upcoming S+ rank instance. A longer delay would only spell trouble.
“Sure.” Zong Jiu readily agreed. “What are the rules?”
The black-haired man smiled cryptically, his well-defined hand stretching into the shadows.
The next second, a white-gloved hand poked out of the shadows at the other end with unerring accuracy, reaching into the Magician’s pocket.
“Hm? Why is it not there?”
With the ability to shuttle through shadows at will, the Devil blatantly put his hands into Zong Jiu’s pockets, checking each one of them across his body.
Sure enough, the decision to seek poker cards from the Magician’s body was the right one.
The cold hand whispered across the taut thigh muscles, systematically exploring the pants pocket at his own pace, before he slowly retrieved a deck of cards from within.
“Found it.”
The black-haired man hummed happily as he casually spread the cards and flung them into the air.
Evading the fierce wind as the other slashed next to his arm, he said merrily, “As long as you can catch the joker, the No. 9 position is yours.”
If it were as simple as that, then he wouldn’t be the Devil.
As expected, he glimpsed puppet strings glinting amidst the flurry of falling cards.
As soon as No. 1 finished speaking, Zong Jiu started to move.
He ignored the endless obstacles, and even if he was restricted by invisible puppet strings, his fingers still stretched out like a plant towards the sun.
Soon, the last card fell silently to the ground.
Like an echo, the violin also played the last note and ended in silence.
The Devil sighed, faux regret in his tone. “Seems that this time it’s my…”
The Magician stomped on his black leather shoes and jerked his head up, a challenge in his eyes.
In his mouth, a white-edged card held firmly between his lips, the scarlet joker grinning broadly.
Joker; the king bomb.
