Madeleine was a little speechless.
“You’re the one who stopped mid–sentence.”
“I can tell you, but you’ll have to wait three months.”
“Three months?
Why?”
Leona narrowed her eyes slightly, pondering for a few seconds
before speaking: “Three months. I want you to get back to your
old level, so we can have a good, fair competition.”
For a moment, Madeleine thought she must have misheard.
She shows up out of nowhere, says all this, and brings up the
past, all just to compete with me?
But when she looked up and met Leona’s earnest gaze…
No, it wasn’t just earnestness.
It was an almost paranoid obsession, a pride that refused to be
Chapter 266
buried by time and misunderstanding.
Even… there was an imperceptible, clumsy… attempt to save
her.
In a flash, Madeleine suddenly understood.
Leona wasn’t trying to humiliate her at all, nor was she simply
trying to settle old scores.
She was using the most extreme method, the one most in line
with her personality, to force her to come back.
Forcing her to pick up the passion and glory she had “thrown.
away.”
What she couldn’t stand was perhaps not just Madeleine’s
decline in skill, but her apparent attitude of “giving up.”
In Leona’s black–and–white world, someone who once stood
beside her shouldn’t be indulging in ordinary “comfort,” even if
that comfort hid Madeleine’s unspeakable pain.
She couldn’t understand any of that; she only recognized the
stage and strength.
So, she chose the most direct method: a challenge.
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Using an undeniable “three–month pact,” a peak that had to be
climbed, to forcibly pull Madeleine back onto the track she
believed Madeleine was destined to be on.
She wasn’t pushing Madeleine away; she was using all her
strength to pull back that former rival–and perhaps the only
person who could understand her extreme pursuit.
“For three months, I’ve taken a leave from the dance troupe. I’ll
coach your training.”
Leona took a step forward, her gaze fixed directly on
Madeleine. “Do you dare?”
That “Do you dare?” wasn’t just a simple provocation. To
Madeleine’s ears, it held a different meaning.
Hidden within it was Leona’s brand of concern, her
unwillingness to accept defeat, and her almost harsh belief in
“perfection” and “purity.”
The stuffiness and embarrassment in Madeleine’s chest, born
from the harsh criticism, suddenly dissipated.
In its place was a complex emotion.
There was bitterness, a sense of realization, and a faint warmth
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from being so intensely “needed” and “affirmed.”
She looked at Leona. This woman before her, with her still–cold
and sharp features, seemed to have something more to her
than the girl from her memories who only knew competition.
Madeleine didn’t immediately answer “I dare” or “I don’t.”
She just tilted her head slightly, her gaze carefully tracing
Leona’s tightly pressed lips and stubborn eyes.
She suddenly let out a very soft sigh, her tone carrying a
knowing helplessness and a hint of imperceptible emotion:
“Leona.”
She said her name, her voice calm. “Going around in such a
huge circle… if you wanted to help me get back on my feet,
couldn’t you have just said so?”
Leona stiffened almost imperceptibly, her eyes flickering as if
she wanted to argue.
But in the end, she just looked away, her jaw tightening, a faint
blush creeping up behind her ears, her voice even harsher:
“Don’t flatter yourself. Who wants to help you?
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I just want a chance for a fair fight, to clear my name!
She frowned impatiently.
‘Cut the crap. Just tell me, are you going to accept or not?”
Her defensive reaction only confirmed what Madeleine
suspected.
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