025

The ballroom shimmered like a mirage. Polished floors, crystal chandeliers, and the perfume of wealth hanging thick in the air.

Laughter clinked against the champagne flutes, every motion choreographed, every guest adorned in glittering arrogance.

You stood tall, spine straight, wrapped in a deep navy suit tailored so sharply it might as well have been a weapon.

A silver pin glinted at your collar, shaped like a crescent.

You didn’t wear a mask. You didn’t need to. Your smile was mask enough.

Chuuya beside you, all fiery hair and flushed cheeks, looked like a polished doll forced into a role too tight for his bones.

Yet even in that dress, he carried himself with pride, albeit angry pride.

"Remember," you murmured, brushing imaginary lint off his sleeve.

"We’re a couple tonight. That means you smile when I smile."

"I’ll smile when I get to gut someone."

You chuckled, eyes catching the movement of curious strangers stealing glances your way.

Their eyes lingered longer than was polite. Too long.

So you smiled at them. Soft. Regal. A chuckle at a compliment never spoken aloud.

Their gazes flinched away like burned fingertips.

Chuuya saw it.

Noticed how people turned at the mere presence of you. How you moved with elegance, head held high, like someone used to being watched from thrones.

He leaned close. "You're surprisingly good at this."

You tilted your head. "At what?"

"Being... all this." He gestured vaguely.

"Like you're used to it."

You smiled, something unreadable flickering behind your lashes. "I was raised to be watched."

There was no elaboration. Just those few words, said too calmly.

Then, something changed.

Your gaze shifted. Just slightly. Your body tensed the way a string does before a violin sings.

There— across the floor.

A girl. Young woman now. Pale hair pinned back in precision. Laughing with a group of men in pristine uniforms. She looked...

Too familiar.

Your smile faded.

Chuuya noticed immediately. "What is it?"

You didn’t answer.

Half sister. One of the many. A legitimate child.

She hadn’t seen you. Of course she hadn’t. Why would she look in the direction of a bastard left to rot?

Why is she here?

The music started.

A soft, swelling waltz. Gentle and dignified. A signal.

Chuuya nudged you. "It’s time."

You blinked once, pushing down the confusion curling behind your ribs. Back to the role.

You extended your hand. "Shall we?"

He sighed but took it. "Try not to step on my feet."

You led.

Graceful. Controlled.

Every step was elegant, every turn deliberate. You moved like someone who'd done this a hundred times before.

Chuuya blinked. "You dance well."

"I saw people dance once," you murmured. "At a ball. Years ago."

He raised a brow. "Once? That’s it?"

"I remember everything I see."

A pause.

Then, soft. "...Huh."

Surprise. Respect. You didn’t comment on it.

Instead, as the dance brought you to the edge of the floor, you leaned in. "It’s time."

Chuuya gave the smallest nod. You let go of his hand.

You turned.

And vanished in silence.

You reappeared in the hallway beyond the ballroom. Empty.

The layout had been memorized minutes ago.

You slipped past columns, evaded sensor beams with ghostlike ease.

Cameras? Useless. You shattered them one by one with calculated precision, fragments raining like frost.

Then, the vault.

Thick steel. Hidden locks.

But Mori’s documents hadn’t lied. You already knew its location.

A whisper of teleportation, and you were inside.

A single jewel, glowing faintly under protective glass.

Trapped? Naturally. Laser tripwires and motion sensors.

No matter.

With one sharp grin, you vanished again, past the lasers, past the sensors. You reappeared inside the box.

The jewel nestled in your gloved palm like a living thing.

Done.

The hallway was quiet.

Dimly lit sconces cast golden glows along polished stone, catching glints of shattered camera glass at your feet.

The vault behind you now slept empty, its prize cradled in your pocket like a secret the world wasn’t ready for.

You moved without sound, shadows curling around your steps, heading toward the security room to erase every trace.

Then—

A breath of perfume you recognized. Faint. Expensive. Scented like arrogance and winter gardens.

You didn’t flinch when you turned the corner.

There she stood.

Her.

Your half sister.

She blinked as if startled, taking a step back with the grace of a trained actress. Surprise curled her painted lips, soft pink like peony petals. Too precise to be real.

You saw through her instantly.

“Ah,” you said with a tilt of your head, voice warm, polite, untouched by the sharpness inside you.

“Forgive me. Are you lost, miss?”

She blinked again, lashes fluttering like false innocence.

“Oh… I— yes, I’m afraid so. I was looking for the powder room but ended up wandering. These halls are like a maze.”

You smiled, just a little, and took a step forward. “You shouldn’t be alone in places like these. Dangerous things can hide in corridors.”

Her eyes flicked over your suit, your posture, the absence of a mask.

She didn’t recognize you. Of course not. You’d been a ghost in her world. A whisper never meant to walk among marble and chandeliers.

Yet, the resemblance must have itched somewhere in her mind.

Still, she played her part.

“Thank you, sir,” she said with a gentle laugh, tilting her head.

“You’re very kind. Most men here are only interested in flattery or making connections.”

You let your smile linger, brushing invisible dust from your lapel. “And you, miss? Are you only interested in wandering?”

Her lips twitched, eyes narrowing for a fraction of a second. Then soft again. “I’m interested in interesting people.”

“How fortunate,” you murmured.

“So am I.”

She laughed. That too was practiced.

“I don’t believe I caught your name?” she asked, voice dipped in sweetness.

“You didn’t.” You bowed slightly. “But that’s alright. Names are such formal things. They ruin the fun.”

She raised a brow, bemused. “You speak like a noble.”

“Do I?”

“Yes,” she said, studying you with a gleam of curiosity.

“Polished. Well bred, like that of golden blood.”

Something cold rippled behind your smile.

"Golden"? Ironic, truly.

She continued, tilting her head. “Are you a noble, sir?”

You blinked.

Once.

Then, slowly, you answered, “No.”

There was silence between you.

Then, she smiled, generous, golden, like a queen bestowing mercy.

“Then perhaps you should be,” she said.

“A man like you… poised, handsome, clearly talented. I could put in a word. With my family. We always have space for capable people. Especially now.”

Your jaw didn’t tighten. Your shoulders didn’t shift. But inside, something ancient twisted.

You almost laughed.

Instead, your voice was velvet. “That’s very kind, miss. But what makes you think I’m capable?”

She stepped closer, lowering her voice conspiratorially. “I saw you. Earlier. During the dance. You… vanished, didn’t you?”

Ah.

So she had seen it.

You smiled, lips curving like a blade. “Is that what you think?”

“I know what I saw,” she said, a little firmer now. “You’re an ability user.”

You said nothing.

She continued, excitement leaking through her composure.

“It’s rare. But not shameful. Not anymore. You’d be compensated handsomely. My family has connections. We could help you. You wouldn’t have to… skulk in shadows.”

There it was.

That same threadbare kindness dressed as generosity.

The same pity they handed out like stale bread to beggars.

You let your smile remain unchanged, but your gaze? Oh, your gaze turned hollow.

“You’d offer a man you just met a position under your family?” you asked softly.

“Is that how your house operates? By impulse?”

She faltered. “Well, no, but—”

“And you assume,” you continued, tone still kind.

“That I’d want to be under you. That I’d need to.”

“I just thought—”

“You saw something you don’t understand,” you interrupted gently.

“And instead of keeping it to yourself, you offered gold to what might be a wolf. That’s dangerous, miss.”

Her smile dimmed. “Are you threatening me?”

You paused. Then— a bright close eyed smile.

“Of course not, miss. How dare I?"

As you parted your eyes, they were cold, calculating.