I’m Just a Counselor Chapter 51

After eating and walking Estella back to her room, I headed to Jeremiah’s bedroom. Jeremiah had asked me to come there instead of his office.

 

I knocked on the bedroom door and was quickly answered from inside.

 

“Come in, Miss Vanessa.”

 

This was the second time I’d set foot in Jeremiah’s bedroom.

 

I cautiously opened the door and peered inside. The fireplace was lit, and the couch and table had been moved to the far corner of the room.

 

Jeremiah, a phonograph on a small nightstand, ran a hand through his disheveled silver hair and looked back at me.

 

“Wait there for a moment, it’s been a while since I’ve had a working gramophone.”

 

The gemstone on the top of the phonograph glowed. Jeremiah tapped it, and I heard a small noise.

 

I stood with the door closed, waiting for Jeremiah to finish. The bed looked so big now that the couch and table had been cleared away, it felt weird.

 

“There you go. Now come here.”

 

The phonograph began to play soft music instead of static.

 

Jeremiah smiled with satisfaction and stood in the center of the room, beckoning me over. I shuffled over to his side.

 

“You might want to move a little closer.”

 

“…….”

 

At Jeremiah’s urging, I remembered the time I’d ridden a horse with him. I could feel his breath on my face now, just as I had then.

 

I raised my arms, a little nervously. The starting position for the dance was not much different from a waltz.

 

Soon Jeremiah laid his hand over mine. His palm was cool and firm.

 

“If you want me to hold you any closer than this…just tell me how close you want me to hold you.”

 

I hesitated, then took half a step closer to Jeremiah, who put his other hand around my waist. I sucked in a small breath.

 

The closeness, the arm around my waist, didn’t feel much different than when I was riding with Jeremiah.

 

The tension in my stomach intensified as I realized that Jeremiah’s face was right in front of mine. I felt like I couldn’t even breathe.

 

“Relax your body and listen to the music.”

 

Jeremiah’s voice was so serious as he said this. I squeezed my eyes shut and opened them.

 

‘Vanessa, what are you doing in front of someone who is innocently trying to teach you?’

 

Here we go. Jeremiah is the teacher and I am the student. I breathed deeply, repeating the words under my breath, and the muffled music finally came into focus.

 

Jeremiah batted his long eyelashes and spoke slowly.

 

“Men start on the right, women on the left. I want you to follow my every move.”

 

“But… if I happen to step on the Duke’s foot…”

 

“Well… it doesn’t seem like it would hurt much if Miss Vanessa stepped on it.”

 

Jeremiah muttered, and I glanced at him sharply. Jeremiah saw my glare and smirked before adding.

 

“It’s okay if you step on it.”

 

“You sound like you’re already preparing to get stepped on a lot, but you’ll see. I won’t step on you.”

 

“Really? I’m excited to hear you’re confident you’ll learn.”

 

Jeremiah gave me a look that said he was sure I was going to step on his foot. I pouted my lips.

 

I’d like to stomp on his foot so hard it would make his instep sizzle…

 

But I can’t do that.

 

I had to learn this well and teach it to Estella, and for her sake, it was time to put my brain to work.

 

I began my lesson with Jeremiah with the utmost concentration I’d had in a long time.

 

* * *

 

A few hours into my first full dance practice with Jeremiah, I slumped to the floor in a daze.

 

I thought, “What’s so hard about just moving my body?” I was wrong to think that dancing was easy.

 

I thought, “I’m not even fit enough to do this.”

 

I really thought it was a waltz, but the dance Jeremiah was teaching me was nothing like that.

 

“You should have listened to me when I told you.”

 

The posture and steps at the beginning were similar to a waltz, but as we progressed, the movements became more complicated, and breathing with your partner seemed to be very important.

 

Jeremiah seemed to be trying to keep up with my slower movements, but he never quite got it right.

 

I glanced bitterly at the instep of his foot. For someone who swore not to step on him, I stepped on his foot quite a few times.

 

And one last thing: If I kept making the wrong move, Jeremiah would have done the right thing and finished it off, but he never did.

 

I remembered his words in hindsight.

 

“Are you sure you’re okay with that?”

 

I didn’t realize he meant, “I’m going to roll you, are you sure you can handle it…”

 

I had never known Jeremiah to be such a nagging person.

 

“Shouldn’t I have a real professor?”

 

Jeremiah is such a perfectionist. I let out a small sigh.

 

Jeremiah saw me sitting down and spoke up.

 

“Do you want to take a break?”

 

The look on Jeremiah’s face was so innocent that I felt terrible, but I didn’t have the strength to argue, so I just nodded. Then Jeremiah walked away to turn off the gramophone.

 

I crouched on the floor, kicking off my shoes and rubbing my feet.

 

I knew I shouldn’t have done it in front of Jeremiah, but I couldn’t help but feel the pain in my feet from trying to keep moving in my high-heeled shoes.

 

“I should have worn something a little lower.”

 

I realized that I had worn these shoes to get used to the idea that I would have to wear heels with the dress.

 

I checked my heels and frowned.

 

Just then, Jeremiah, who had returned from turning off the music, noticed my foot and his eyes widened.

 

“You’re bleeding!”

 

My eyes widened at his sudden outburst.

 

My heel is just slightly bleeding from a cut, what’s he so surprised about?

 

I was about to make a disgruntled noise.

 

I swallowed hard as Jeremiah raised his eyebrows and swept me up in a bear hug.

 

I let out a small squeal and hugged Jeremiah’s neck as we fell to the floor, and after a moment’s pause, he stomped off toward the bed.

 

Gently setting me down on the bed while I struggled, Jeremiah opened the drawer of the bedside table.

 

“Give me your foot so I can put some ointment on it.”

 

Pulling a small box out of the drawer, Jeremiah knelt down in front of me. I rolled my eyes at the idea of him looking at my foot himself.

 

‘This is kind of weird, isn’t it? I’m not the only one who feels weird?’

 

I swallowed hard as I stared at his waiting face from my kneeling position.

 

Still a little embarrassed to show him my feet, I finally spoke cautiously.

 

“Well, Duke. Give me the ointment, I’ll just put them on myself.”

 

“…Yes.”

 

Luckily, Jeremiah didn’t insist and handed me the box.

 

I lifted the lid to reveal a translucent white cream that was still half full.

 

‘Is this Jeremiah’s medicine?’ I thought.

 

But can I use it on a wound I just cut my heel on while dancing?

 

Suddenly timid, I put a small amount of the ointment on my index finger and gently rubbed it into the wound.

 

Jeremiah, who was watching me, said in frustration.

 

“It’s not bad for you. It’s an ointment developed by a mage from the Duchy, and it’s very effective.”

 

“Oh. Yeah, I see… The wizard said…”

 

“I meant to apply it without question.”

 

Jeremiah, unable to resist, took a generous amount of the ointment and applied it to my wound.

 

I shuddered as his cool fingers touched my burned flesh. But it worked, and as soon as the ointment was applied, the stinging sensation quickly faded, leaving me feeling angry.

 

I awkwardly stared at him as he applied the ointment to my foot.

 

‘Jeremiah’s doing it for me after all.’

 

It felt strange to be sitting on his bed, being touched by him.

 

‘Is this…… anger, or should I say, ecstatic?’

 

No matter how much I tried to calm myself by repeating first aid, my heart was beating faster and faster.

 

‘He looks so serious, it’s hard to tell him to stop.’