Chantelle’s Fall of The Waltz

Once upon a time, in a grand estate where chandeliers dripped with crystals and golden staircases spiraled into the heavens, there was born a girl unlike any other. Chantelle Dupont was her name, a world-famous ballerina known for her breathtaking elegance, mesmerizing eyes that seemed to hold the universe within them, and ears—large, expressive, and ever so unique. But more than her beauty and talent, she was known for her big heart.

From the moment she could walk, she danced. Not just any dance, but movements so fluid and graceful that they seemed to defy the laws of nature.

Born into wealth, Chantelle never knew struggle, but she was not one to squander her gifts. She trained harder than anyone else, waking before dawn to practice, her body bruised and sore, but her spirit untouchable. The world took notice of her brilliance. By the age of eighteen, she was the star of the Parisian ballet, performing before royalty and aristocrats who whispered of her divine talent. Her ears, once considered a quirk of nature, became part of her ethereal charm, accentuating the elegance of her every movement. She was adored, envied, and unstoppable.

Then, on the night of her most awaited performance—Swan Lake at the Grand Palais—disaster struck.

A jealous rival, lurking in the shadows of the theater, had long simmered in silent rage. This dancer, Elise Fontaine, had trained just as hard, sacrificed just as much, but had never reached the heights Chantelle had. Fueled by envy, she made a single, cruel decision.

As Chantelle prepared backstage, Elise approached her with a feigned smile, offering a bottle of water infused with something sinister. Within moments of drinking, Chantelle felt her muscles weaken, her balance falter. But she was no coward. Determined to go on, she took to the stage, the lights blinding, the audience breathless. The first act passed in a blur, but in the second act—where the White Swan must leap with ethereal grace—Chantelle faltered. Her vision swam, her limbs betrayed her, and she crashed to the stage in a way no ballerina ever should.

Gasps echoed through the theater. A hush fell. Then, murmurs. Then, chaos.

Chantelle's leg, her most precious instrument, was shattered. But worse than that—her heart slowed, her breath hitched, and the darkness took her.

She died.

But death was not the end.

In the void of nothingness, a glowing text appeared before her:

“Would you like to enter another world?”

With no other choice, she reached out and selected “Yes.”

When she opened her eyes again, she found herself lying in a lavish bed, the air thick with the scent of old parchment and burning candles. The room was massive, adorned with golden tapestries and intricate wooden carvings. Before her stood a trembling maid, eyes wide in shock.

“L-Lady Chantelle! You are awake!” the maid cried, tears spilling down her cheeks.

Chantelle blinked, her head spinning. Something felt off. She swallowed, her throat dry, and asked the first thing that came to her mind.

“What…year is this?”

The maid’s expression twisted in both joy and terror. “It’s—it’s 1402, my lady.”

Chantelle’s breath caught. Her hands trembled as she took in her surroundings, the rich fabric of her nightgown, the unfamiliar sensation of a different body. It felt like she had stepped into a historical manhwa—except this wasn’t a fantasy.

***Download NovelToon to enjoy a better reading experience!***