The Ball

I didn’t know why.

For the past few days, I had felt an inexplicable sense of discomfort. Thinking it over, it was undoubtedly because of Professor Nangong. Ever since visiting the senior, my mood had been strange, and it only intensified after that day outside the Deduction Room when I saw him murmuring someone else’s name. That feeling had twisted and expanded into something much stronger.

After that, every time I saw the professor, I felt a stubborn spark of irritation. Unlike the pure disgust I felt when I first misunderstood him, this annoyance wasn’t particularly intense, yet it was impossible to ignore and offered no outlet for release. If these negative emotions kept accumulating, I feared I would one day lose control and snap at him.

A student snapping at a professor… it was mad, even absurd. I told myself I had to keep my emotions in check. I expected this state of mind to last a long time.

Until today.

The professor handed me a new script.

“The Masquerade?”

I flipped through it suspiciously. After only a few glances, my hands froze. This was clearly a quintessential romantic comedy script. For a man and a woman—specifically a professor and a student—to act this out? Was that really appropriate?

Since my mood was already foul, I decided to use this as a pretext. I slammed the script shut and glared at the professor, fuming.

“Professor! Don’t you think this script is a bit inappropriate?”

“Regarding the script, I have screened it repeatedly. There is nothing inappropriate about it. If there is a specific part you cannot accept, you may voice your concern.”

The professor maintained that same businesslike, cold expression, as if he weren’t the one who had chosen this embarrassing script in the first place. Seeing his indifferent demeanor only made me angrier. It felt as if he were looking down on me. The emotions I had been suppressing began to surge, and my tone naturally grew sharper.

“But isn’t this a romance script? What exactly were you thinking, Professor?”

“What?”

“Even if you don’t care, you should at least think of me. A male professor and a female student practicing a romance script… if word gets out, it’ll easily turn into a scandal.”

I said it, but in my heart, I knew he likely had no ill intentions. Setting aside the fact that there was no direct physical contact in this scene other than a ballroom dance, there was the man himself. He was young, wealthy, and held high status; he certainly didn’t lack women throwing themselves at him, yet he had never been involved in a single romantic scandal. At the very least, personal character aside from his foul personality, he was trustworthy.

I only said it to take advantage of my current moral high ground—to intentionally vent some steam.

As expected, though his expression didn’t change, his pupils quivered violently. Perhaps only just realizing the potential issue, his voice became somewhat strained.

“This… this point…”

Actually, at this point, the anger in my heart had already vanished. But for some reason, seeing the professor in this state, I suddenly felt a desire to tease him.

“A romance script isn’t suitable for teaching, is it? Did you even consider external factors, Professor?”

“Student… Student Xiao…”

Perhaps cornered by my questioning, the professor’s indifferent mask began to crack. His panic was visible to the naked eye.

How strange… so strange…

My blood was racing, accelerating, bringing with it a surge of intense excitement. This fragile side of the professor… no one has ever seen it, have they? It’s just me. I’m the first to see it.

The corners of my mouth curled up slightly for no reason. I fired off one sentence after another like a gatling gun, refusing to give him time to think calmly. I felt a bit sorry for him, but I couldn’t help it; I suddenly, desperately wanted to see the panicked state of this usually high-and-mighty professor.

“Does the Professor really have a messy private life and eyes for his students, just like the rumors say?”

“I only endured your previous bitterness and kept attending class because I trusted you, you know.”

“If you really have some strange ideas, I would be truly disappointed…”

“By the way, Professor, what are your thoughts on student-teacher romance?”

“…”

Following my increasingly explicit and exaggerated accusations, the professor finally looked completely lost in his confusion. He looked like a drenched puppy in the rain—pitiful, but quite cute, wasn’t he?

Why did I feel this unprecedented sense of achievement? It was so strange. My heart was pounding so loudly it felt like it was echoing in my ears. A faint electric current seemed to pass down my spine. It was a feeling I had never experienced… a sense of pleasure erupting in every cell.

This state was absolutely abnormal! But despite knowing that, I couldn’t stop. The irritation in my heart had long been washed away by this surge of intense, mysterious joy. Right now, I was in an excellent mood. Or rather, I had never felt better.

Step.

The professor seemed frightened by me and took an instinctive step back. His voice held a weakness I had never seen before.

“If… if you put it that way, the script is indeed inappropriate. I should choose another—”

“No need.”

I suppressed the urge to smile and cut him off. “Let’s use this script today. I’ll trust you just this once, Professor.”

Amidst the professor’s obvious bewilderment, I took a step forward, closing the distance between us again. “I hope you won’t disappoint me, Professor.”

“Specifically regarding this script, the main content is the psychological warfare between the male and female leads during a ball.”

“In the script, the dramatic highlight is the two of them attacking each other while playing the part of a couple. Outside the script, the top priority is for the Deductor to master the multi-layered emotional changes of this ‘play within a play’.”

Perhaps having adjusted his emotions during the few minutes of preparation, the professor had returned to his previous calm state. But in my eyes, that sense of distance—that untouchable, high-and-mighty aura—was gone. Because I knew his true face. His coldness was just a disguise; his heart was fragile.

This was a secret known only to me.

Graceful, lingering classical music began to play. The environment of the Deduction Room warped rapidly, soon transforming into a vast, bright, and elegantly decorated auditorium. Around us, numerous figures in aristocratic dress manifested, their faces distinct as they whispered in pairs with varying expressions.

In just a few seconds, the room was covered by a phantom manifestation indistinguishable from reality. This was the professor’s level of Deduction. At this moment, I had to admit that as a senior on this path, the professor’s strength in controlling Deduction Power was something I could only dream of reaching.

While I was lost in thought, a hand was extended before my eyes.

“Miss Monica, may I have the honor of this dance?”

I looked up. The lead character of the script, Chris… no, it was the professor himself. He was issuing the invitation. Though his attire and physical movements were identical to the script’s description, that cold expression and that puppet-like sense of detachment—which clashed with the surrounding phantoms—made me certain.

The professor before me wasn’t so much manifesting the protagonist as he was playing another version of himself.

But that’s even better, isn’t it? A clumsy acting partner like the professor actually gave me an abnormal, sweet, and chaotic sense of satisfaction, as if I were facing my own kind.

In this bizarre emotional state, I placed my hand in his.