Erwin stood before the blackboard, chalk in hand, and swore to himself that this time would be different.
"No more chaos. No more… vegetables. We're keeping it civil."
He had spent the entire night in the library, determined to find a topic that couldn't possibly be twisted into something embarrassing. After sifting through ancient tomes with titles like "The Subtle Art of Wooing" and "Love Letters of the Great Dukes," he had finally settled on something foolproof:
Courtship Etiquette.
Simple. Safe. Harmless.
All he had to do was explain the basics of noble behavior when approaching someone romantically—how to speak, how to stand, maybe a few compliments. No props. No magic. Absolutely no food.
The girls filed into the classroom, and Erwin cleared his throat.
"Today," he announced with the confidence of a man trying very hard not to look terrified, "we will be discussing proper etiquette in courtship."
Clara perked up immediately, her hands clutched tightly around her notebook. Marianne raised a skeptical brow, lounging back in her chair with that infuriating smirk of hers. Ivy… well, Ivy's grin already promised trouble.
"Etiquette, Professor?" Ivy purred, resting her chin on her hand. "How boring."
"It's not boring," Erwin snapped. "It's essential. Proper manners are the foundation of any successful relationship. For example—"
He turned to the board and began writing bullet points.
Polite Greetings
Respectful Distance
Compliments
Formal Dance as Expression of Courtship
Behind him, he could already hear the whispering.
"Formal dance?" Marianne muttered. "Sounds like a duel with extra steps."
Clara squeaked. "I-I've never danced with a man before…"
Ivy's laugh was low and dangerous. "Oh, this is going to be delightful."
Erwin finished his list and turned back around. "Yes, dance. It is an essential component of noble interaction. Therefore, today's lesson will involve a practical exercise."
The room went still.
Clara froze in her seat. Marianne straightened with sudden interest. Ivy's grin widened into something positively wicked.
"…What kind of exercise?" Ivy asked, her voice dripping with anticipation.
Erwin adjusted his collar, suddenly regretting everything. "A… practice dance. One partner, one instructor, observed by the class. To demonstrate proper etiquette."
The girls' eyes locked onto him like predators spotting prey.
Erwin realized—too late—that he had just volunteered himself as the partner.
"P-Professor?!" Clara's voice cracked as soon as Erwin called her name.
She looked like a deer caught in torchlight, clutching her notebook as though it might shield her from fate. Her eyes darted between Erwin and the floor, already red from the tips of her ears to her neck.
"Yes, Clara," Erwin said with forced calm. "You'll be first. Don't worry—this is purely for demonstration. Nothing more."
She stood up so stiffly it looked painful. When she reached him at the front of the class, her trembling hands nearly dropped the notebook.
"Alright," Erwin began, straightening his posture. "Dancing is all about poise. Confidence. Gentlemen should offer their hand like this—"
He extended his hand.
Clara stared at it as though it were a live snake. Slowly, shakily, she placed her delicate fingers in his.
"There," Erwin said, relieved. "Now, the gentleman leads. The lady follows. Keep your eyes up, not on the ground. And most importantly—"
STOMP.
Erwin nearly yelped. Clara had stepped directly on his foot.
"I'M SORRY!" she squeaked, recoiling instantly. Her grip tightened on his hand, her panic making her lean even closer. "I-I didn't mean—oh no, I've ruined it already—"
"It's fine, Clara," Erwin grunted through clenched teeth, ignoring the throbbing in his toes. "Just… relax. Try again."
From the corner of his eye, he could see Marianne smirking like this was the best entertainment she'd had all week. Ivy, meanwhile, was biting her lip to keep from laughing out loud.
"Alright," Erwin said, trying to salvage his dignity. "Small steps. Gentle movements. Follow my lead—"
STOMP. STOMP.
This time both feet.
"—AAAAHHHHH!"
Clara gasped in horror and covered her face with her free hand. "I-I should never dance again! I'm a menace!"
"You're… doing fine," Erwin wheezed, though his soul was weeping.
From the back, Ivy finally lost it. She clapped her hands together, laughing. "Oh, Professor, she's crushing you!"
Marianne snorted. "If this is etiquette, I'd hate to see combat."
Erwin forced a pained smile. "The important thing… is perseverance. Even when mistakes happen, one must… maintain composure."
Clara peeked through her fingers, cheeks scarlet. "…R-Really?"
"Yes," Erwin lied heroically.
She looked at him with such earnest relief that his frustration deflated in an instant. Her steps remained clumsy, her rhythm uncertain, but slowly—just barely—she began to follow his lead.
By the end, Erwin's toes were half-dead, but Clara's eyes sparkled with timid pride.
"I… I actually danced," she whispered, more to herself than anyone.
Erwin gave her a small nod. "You did. Well done, Clara."
For a fleeting moment, it almost felt like progress.
Almost.
Until Marianne stood up, cracking her knuckles.
"My turn."
Erwin was still massaging his crushed toes when Marianne sauntered to the front.
Unlike Clara, she carried herself with the confidence of someone who thought the world existed purely for her amusement. Her long legs moved with grace, her chin tilted ever so slightly, and that wicked smirk never left her lips.
"Alright, Professor," she purred, stretching out her arms like a cat. "Show me how this courtship dance works. Or…" Her smirk deepened. "…shall I show you?"
Erwin already knew this was a bad idea. "No showing. I'll lead. That's how this works."
"Mmhm," Marianne hummed, placing her hand in his. "We'll see about that."
The moment they began, Erwin realized he was in trouble.
Where Clara had been timid, Marianne was the exact opposite—aggressive, fast, and strong. She didn't follow his lead so much as seize it and spin him where she pleased.
"Wait—no, I'm supposed to—!" Erwin yelped as she yanked him into a turn so sharp he nearly tripped.
The other girls watched with wide eyes. Clara gasped into her hands. Ivy looked positively delighted.
Marianne laughed, a low, dangerous sound. "Come on, Professor. Is this really how you plan to 'woo' someone? So stiff… so clumsy…"
Her foot shot out—lightning quick—and Erwin barely sidestepped in time.
"Did you just try to sweep my leg?!"
"It's called 'flair,'" Marianne said innocently, twirling him again.
"IT'S CALLED MURDER!" Erwin shouted, stumbling.
At this point, the dance looked less like etiquette and more like a battlefield reenactment. Marianne's steps were sharp, precise, almost like sword strikes. She pushed him back, pulled him forward, spun him around until he was dizzy.
And then she dipped him.
Yes. She dipped him.
One hand on his back, the other gripping his hand tight, Marianne bent him backward in one fluid motion until his hair brushed the floor.
Erwin stared up at the ceiling in shock, his dignity shattered.
The class erupted.
Clara squeaked so loudly it could've broken glass. Ivy collapsed onto her desk, laughing so hard tears rolled down her cheeks.
Erwin, upside-down and utterly defeated, groaned. "This… is not… how courtship works…"
Marianne leaned down close, her smirk inches from his face. "Then maybe you're teaching it wrong."
With that, she yanked him back upright. Erwin staggered, swaying like a drunk, while Marianne bowed mockingly.
"Thank you for the lesson, Professor."
Before Erwin could even catch his breath, a shadow fell across him.
Ivy.
She rose from her seat with the elegance of a predator, every sway of her hips calculated, her eyes glinting with mischief. The room seemed to tense as she approached—Clara biting her lip nervously, Marianne folding her arms like she was suddenly invested in what came next.
"Well then, Professor," Ivy murmured, voice smooth as silk, "you've shown us timid dancing…" She flicked a sly glance at Clara. "…and aggressive dancing…" Her gaze slid to Marianne, who smirked. "…but what about seductive dancing?"
Erwin's soul nearly left his body. "Nope. Absolutely not. Class dismissed."
Too late. Ivy was already in front of him, placing her hand delicately in his, her other arm curling far too comfortably around his shoulder.
Her perfume hit him like a spell—something faintly floral, yet sharp enough to make his pulse quicken.
"Relax, Professor," she purred. "It's just a demonstration."
"Demonstrations don't usually involve violating my personal space!" Erwin hissed, stiff as a statue.
"That's your problem," Ivy whispered, so close he felt her breath on his ear. "You're too stiff."
She led him into the first step—except she didn't leave a shred of space between them. Where Marianne's grip had been strong, Ivy's was deliberately slow, every movement deliberate, like she was testing how long it would take to break him.
Erwin's brain short-circuited. "This—this is supposed to be etiquette, not—"
Ivy leaned in until their foreheads nearly touched, her smile wicked. "Etiquette can be very… intimate, Professor. Don't you think?"
From the sidelines, Clara looked ready to faint all over again, her hands clutched to her chest. Marianne's smirk faltered, her jaw tightening ever so slightly.
Erwin tried to pull back, but Ivy anticipated every move, sliding a step closer, forcing him to retreat until his back nearly brushed the blackboard.
"This isn't a dance," Erwin croaked. "This is harassment!"
Ivy's laugh was soft and low. "Funny. You don't look like you're suffering."
The class was dead silent now, everyone hanging on the scene as though it were theater.
Finally, Erwin snapped. He tore himself free and staggered back, pointing at Ivy like she'd just transformed into a demon.
"LESSON OVER! Class dismissed! No more dancing—ever! If anyone so much as hums a waltz in this room again, they're expelled!"
The room exploded in laughter.
Clara hid behind her notebook, squealing in embarrassment. Marianne chuckled, though her eyes lingered on Ivy with an almost competitive glint. Ivy? She just gave a sly little bow, her smile victorious.
Erwin slumped into his chair, burying his face in his hands. "I should've just stuck with cucumbers…"
⭐ End of Chapter 3
➡️ Next Chapter Preview:
Determined to regain authority, Erwin decides the next lesson will be purely academic: a written assignment on "Love Letters." But when the girls turn in their homework, he discovers their "letters" are less romantic poetry and more… dangerous confessions. Clara accidentally writes something scandalous, Marianne turns hers into a verbal sparring match, and Ivy? Hers might just be an open challenge to seduce him.
➡️ CTA (Call to Action):
Who do you think made Erwin suffer the most in this chapter—Clara, Marianne, or Ivy? 😂 Drop a comment and let me know! And don't forget to add this book to your library so you don't miss the chaos of their "love letter" assignment in the next chapter!