Emperor's harem: Transmigrated with SSS mana talent
Chapter 94: [Big day tomorrow]

Chapter 94: [Big day tomorrow]

"You see?"

But Kael wasn’t replying. He was just staring at her—completely still.

Yue blinked. "...What?"

A faint flush rose to her cheeks as his silence dragged.

Kael snapped back to reality, waving a hand.

"Yeah, yeah—you’re awesome."

Kael took a breath and stepped forward, the mist parting reluctantly around him.

"Alright," he muttered, rolling his shoulders. "How hard can it be?"

He raised his sword, mimicking the starting stance he’d just seen Yue perform—feet angled, blade poised, arms loose.

For a moment, he felt ready.

The image of Yue’s flawless dance was still vivid in his mind.

Then he moved.

The first step was too stiff. The second too wide. His blade wobbled in the air like a drunk trying to walk a tightrope.

Yue stood to the side, silent.

Observing.

Kael spun—badly.

His foot caught in the mist, his sword overextended, and he barely stopped himself from tumbling face-first.

"Okay... that looked cooler in my head," he muttered.

He tried again.

And again.

Each time, the flow broke. His arms jerked instead of gliding. His blade hissed, but not in that ghostly, whispering way Yue’s had.

No grace. No weight. Just effort.

After the fourth failed sequence, he dropped his stance and exhaled, rubbing his neck.

"Turns out divine murder-ballet isn’t beginner-friendly," he grumbled.

Yue raised an eyebrow, expression unreadable.

"You’re using your arms too much. Let your center move. Your blade should follow, not lead."

Kael nodded slowly.

"Right. So basically, everything I just did was wrong."

She blinked once. "Yes."

He gave her a flat look. "Thanks for the encouragement."

Yue shrugged, lips twitching at the corners. "You’re not hopeless."

Kael smirked. "Wow. I feel deeply inspired."

And then, with a deep breath, he tried again—knowing he’d fail, but also knowing that every step brought him closer to the rhythm she had carved into the dream.

Kael tried again, slower this time—more mindful, less cocky.

His sword moved, but it still lacked flow.

The steps felt disconnected, his balance off. He grimaced, already bracing for another round of dry critique.

But Yue stepped forward without a word.

Before he could ask, her hands were on him—light, precise.

She adjusted his elbow, gently tilted his chin.

Her presence was close now, breath calm, voice barely above a whisper.

"Loosen your shoulder. No, not that much."

Her hand brushed across his back.

"Shift your weight here. Feel it in your spine, not your wrists."

Kael swallowed hard, suddenly aware of how close she was.

She moved behind him, placing one hand on his hip and the other on his forearm.

"Now... again."

He moved.

It still wasn’t right. But it was better. Smoother. Less forced.

"See?" she murmured. "You’re not fighting the air. You’re dancing with it."

Kael gave a breathless laugh. "You’re dangerously poetic when you’re bossy."

Yue didn’t respond.

"Again," she said, stepping back.

"And this time, don’t think about impressing me."

He hesitated.

Too late.

She’d already turned, hiding the smallest smile.

ChatGPT said:

Soon, Kael was completely absorbed in the training.

Step by step, swing by swing, he moved again—his sword tracing the dance he had watched in awe.

This time, his footwork flowed better. His blade didn’t stutter as much. There was a rhythm now, a faint echo of grace that hadn’t been there before.

But just as he reached the final movement, his balance shifted too sharply—his grip slipped.

The blade tilted off-course.

The form collapsed.

He exhaled sharply, frustration flickering across his face. His head throbbed. The air around him began to distort, shimmer, and then—

Crack.

The dream realm shattered like glass under pressure.

Kael’s eyes opened.

The ceiling of his chamber greeted him in still silence. The soft rustle of midnight winds pressed against the windows.

Darkness lingered outside, but the candle on the desk had long since burned out.

He blinked, mind catching up with his body. "Midnight already..." he murmured.

He had entered the dream after dinner.

"So... forty minutes," he muttered, rubbing the side of his head.

"Felt like hours."

A faint shimmer appeared near the edge of the room.

Yue.

Now only a spirit-form—soft, transparent, like moonlight trapped in a shape. She hovered gently above the ground, arms folded, her presence calm.

"You’re a fast learner," she said warmly.

Kael grimaced, pushing himself upright.

"And how much time would this ’fast learner’ need to master that nightmare of a sword art?"

Yue smiled, that distant knowing gleam in her eyes. "Maybe years... maybe months."

His brow furrowed. "How so?"

She drifted closer, voice quieter now.

"In near-death experiences, humans break through limits they never thought they could. The edge of death teaches better than time ever can."

Her face was close now, just inches from his—eyes reflecting something deep and unreadable.

Kael stilled.

Then Yue blinked, as if suddenly realizing the space between them. A soft flush of ethereal light passed across her face.

Without a word, she turned and fled—gliding away like mist before dawn.

Kael couldn’t help it. He laughed—a low, genuine chuckle in the dim room.

"She ran," he whispered, amused. "After all that mythic drama..."

He leaned back, looking at the ceiling.

The weight of the dance still lingered in his bones, but so did the spark of something else.

Tomorrow, he was going to meet the Duchess after all.

Kael stood, stretching his limbs, bones creaking in protest.

With an absent expression, he crouched beside the bed and lifted the hanging sheet.

There, in the shadows beneath, Selina lay bound—mana-binding artifacts glowing faintly, ropes tight around her.

Kael had found these magical bindings in the church’s back chamber

Her eyes met his—and she froze.

Wide and unblinking, like prey caught in the gaze of a predator.

She was trembling, breath ragged, lips parted in silent terror.

The crude bandages on her wrist were stained dark, but the bleeding had stopped.

Kael tilted his head.

"So, you’re awake, huh?" he said flatly, voice quiet but almost... conversational.

He winced, rolling his shoulder.

"You know, dragging you all the way from the church hall to my room was such a pain. You’re heavier than you look. I should’ve just left you on the altar."

She flinched at every word.

Her face twisted—somewhere between horror and betrayal.

It wasn’t just pain in her eyes now. It was the sickening realization that the boy before her wasn’t quite what she thought.

He gave her a thin smile.

"Okay, okay, don’t cry. Tomorrow your mommy will come and save you," he said, voice mockingly sweet.

Then he paused, crouching lower so his face met hers in the darkness—his smile sharper now, eyes unreadable.

He looked like a wicked uncle from the sort of children’s tale that didn’t have happy endings.

The kind mothers whispered about to scare little girls into staying close to home.

The silence stretched between them like a noose.

Then Kael stood up, brushing the dust from his trousers.

"Get some rest, princess. Big day tomorrow."