Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

A young man with long, deep blue hair, tied back in a neat braid from which a few white strands had escaped, stood at the edge of the ballroom and watched the crowd. His gaze, one eye still partially obscured by one of these white hair strands, drifted wearily over the dancing couples, over the ladies in elaborate gowns trying to attract attention. But no one seemed to truly interest him.

The suit he wore closed around his shoulders like a shadow - dark blue with subtle black accents. A small silver brooch rested on his chest, its blue stone shaped like a spade and catching the light softly.

Shamil didn't need to display his elegance on the dance floor—he attracted enough attention on his own. Within the kingdom, there was hardly anyone who didn't know him. As a high-ranking nobleman, even the common folk of the city knew the most influential houses. Only those from far beyond his borders might fail to recognize him—peasants, perhaps.

But such people were of little importance to him; only his surroundings mattered. They alone had a duty to grant him their attention. The blue-haired man greatly enjoyed standing at the center, making everyone dance to his will. And yet, there were moments like this - when he thought of events such as today - when he wished he could gladly do without them.

But it wasn't the attention that bothered him.

What bothered him was the hypocrisy he encountered. Many, or even most, of the people here would only approach him because he was so high-ranking. They sought the perfect nobleman in him; after all, the blue-haired man was eloquent and charming.

Yet the moment they realized how he truly behaved - how he wasn't the nobleman of their dreams - they were disappointed or overwhelmed. Retreated back into their hypocrisy, attempting to win him over not for who he was, but for the status he carried.

But what could he do? That was simply who he was. He enjoyed playing a role and wielded words with ease.
And what he loved almost even more was shattering expectations.

So thats why, he did enjoy playing the part of the perfect man. But today, he simply wasn’t in the mood. This event was an obligation - nothing more. He had far better things to attend to.

As the owner of the kingdom’s largest library, the greatest pride of his house, there was an endless amount of work awaiting him. It was constantly expanding, and every piece of knowledge within it had to be examined and verified.

He had even planned to spend the final two days of the week immersed in a new series of books.

At last, he finally had the time.

But, of course, something intervened. One day, without warning, his mother placed a letter upon his desk.

Invitation to the Royal Ball

Though he had not yet assumed leadership of the house, he was still expected to bear such responsibilities. He did not mind it - normally. It was his duty, after all. But why now, of all times, when he had already made plans and finally had time to himself?

His mother merely smiled at him, gently explaining that she would not be able to attend this time, as she was meeting with friends.

Friends - of course, from the other four noble houses.

She wished him luck and amusement, adding with a knowing smile that he should not turn too many heads.

And so he found himself in the king’s castle, standing at the edge of a grand hall. A glass of wine rested in his white-gloved hand as he surveyed the guests with deep blue eyes. Beneath the pale strands of his hair, the lighter of the two gleamed faintly.

Perhaps he should have simply brought his books along. Even if the risk was high that he would be called impudent for it - and that such behavior would reflect upon his house.

But in truth, he did not care. Why had he not thought of that earlier?

"Such a long face at such an event?"
A light, melodic voice approached the young man, and he turned his gaze toward her.

"You look bored. What a rare sight."

"Ha, how could I not be?"
Shamil studied the woman. Her pink curls cascaded over her bare shoulders, falling softly against the fabric of her long, wavy white dress. A delicate silver chain rested close to her neck, adorned with a twisted pink heart-shaped pendant.

"You ask how?"
The woman giggled.
"We have such a lovely buffet here. A wide selection. Surely even you could find something appealing."
She hummed smugly as her eyes scanned the dancing couples.

The blue-haired man understood that she was not referring to the food.

"Your taste and choices are, as always, questionable, Eterna."

She shot him an indignant look.
"And you say that, of all people."

Shamil laughed.
"I’d argue the others are far worse than I am. Just look at the buffet.~"

Eterna giggled softly and held out her hand, covered in white cloth. A white-gold ring with a pink stone adorned her finger.

"How about a dance to chase away the boredom?"

"You simply want an excuse to show off that elegant dress of yours."

"Maybe. But so far, I haven’t found anyone willing to give me the opportunity. Our other friends have already turned me down."
She placed her hand wistfully against her cheek—abandoned by friends who shared her rank and had known her since childhood.

"How utterly traaagic.~"
A mischievous smile, rarely shown in public, graced his face. It was typical of her—preferring to dance first with friends or distinguished company, letting herself be seen before entertaining other invitations.

This time, he was the one offering his hand.
"But what kind of friend would I be if I were to ignore my dearest companion?"

The pink-haired Lady glanced at his outstretched hand. A short giggle escaped her before she accepted it.

"Don’t pretend you’re doing this for my sake~."

"Oops—looks like you’ve seen right through me~."

Playfully, he drew her onto the dance floor, and together they drew the attention of the room.

One elegant step followed another. Only when she twirled did he notice the delicate veil at her waist, unfurling with each movement like a pair of wings made of light.

The couple didn’t speak much, letting the music guide them instead.

Dancing together was nothing unusual for them. They had known each other for a long time and had learned such etiquette side by side in the past. Because of that, their movements flowed naturally, each knowing the other’s rhythm without effort.

“So,” the lady spoke during a turn, “how many ladies have you charmed and turned heads today?”

“Hardly any,” he replied. “As you saw, I left the spotlight to the others.”

"That's hard to believe, my dear. I know how much you enjoy breaking hearts and minds alike." There was something mischievous in her voice. Almost like gleeful malice.
It made the blue-haired man chuckle.

"Heh, for once, the desire simply wasn’t there. I was too bothered by our landlady's stubbornness."
His mother, who was probably having a coffee with the leaders of the other four houses, reminiscing over old days.

Meanwhile, he was here, attending the event in her stead. Fortunately, he wasn’t the only one. He knew at least three others who would much rather be elsewhere.

One of them slipped into his field of vision. Long black hair, a striking red suit. Impossible to miss among the crowd. Yet it wasn’t just his appearance that drew attention, but his behavior at the buffet. Neither graceful nor reserved. And for reasons entirely beyond him, some ladies found it… charming. An incomprehensible notion to the blue-haired man, who had a very different understanding of the word.

"And what about you?” he asked, turning his gaze back to his dance partner.

“The buffet is so wonderfully varied.”
With a fluid movement, he raised her arm, guiding her into a turn before she settled effortlessly back at his side.

"No one in mind?"

“Hmm… there are indeed a few.” She lingered far too long on the thought. “Who should I choose?”

Shamil knew it was an act. Just as he knew her tastes were anything but simple.

Like him, Eterna loved to entice others. Leading them into sweet dreams that never lasted. And yet, her list of admirers was long.

"If i truly think about it... there is someone."
Her voice took on a more serious tone.

Shamil raised an eyebrow in surprise. Had someone actually managed to capture her interest? His curiosity stirred.

"This someone is... a bit special. A little different."
She turned her gaze away from him.

"He often plays with women. He's arrogant. Playful like a child and convinced he’s the smartest one in the room.”

Shamil’s charming smile faded. He already knew who she meant.

"Besides..." Eterna paused, letting the silence sink in until the other man asked for clarification. A small smile curved her glossy pink lips as she stepped just a bit too close and stepped on her old friend's foot.

"Ngh-!"
He stifled the pain, instinctively trying to pull back, but she held him in place.

"Besides, he has terrible taste in clotings.~"
Her eyes sparkled with delight.

“How charming of you to offer such compliments,” he said through a forced smile. “But I must decline.”

His foot still throbbed.

"I have no interest in someone who doesn't even know how to dance."

His voice sounded strained as Eterna refused to let go. Her shoes were anything but gentle—of course she would choose sharp heels.
Still… he had to admit. The white and pink bows suited her perfectly.

Eterna lifted her foot from his, and Shamil immediately breathed a quiet sigh of relief as he resumed the dance. He had no intention of making a scene.

"You know what a talented dancer I am!"

“Oh yes, of course,” he replied dryly. “I must have imagined the pain.”
A snort escaped him. It was true—she was exceptionally skilled. Her house, in particular, was renowned for elegance and grace. All the more reason he knew that this ‘misstep’ had been deliberate.

"But what was that all about? Have you run out of prey, which is why you're trying to seduce me?"

“Hahaha, don’t be ridiculous~.”
She laughed, clearly amused.
“I thought it might wash away your boredom,” she added, smiling sweetly.

“I’ll admit, you had my curiosity for a brief moment. But next time, you’ll have to try harder.”
This time, he was the one who stepped a little too close, causing her to lean back slightly.

“My boredom demands a far better performance~.”
He gave her a mischievous grin, which made her sigh and shake her head slightly.

"Oh dear. So picky as ever."

"Says the right one~."
Returning to their original positions, they fell back into the rhythm of the dance.

“It always surprises me how many try to appear as extravagant as possible around you. All that effort - dresses, jewelry, makeup - just to go unnoticed.”

"That's because none of the ladies want to understand what might actually interest me."

Eterna looked at him in surprise.
"So there are candidates who could catch your attention?”

"Of course!"
A crooked grin appeared as he launched into a monologue.

“I despise boredom, so it can’t be something simple... but neither can it be overly special or strange—no, no!”
He raised his voice theatrically, playful in tone.

“What draws my interest must be unique. No insignificant character. Nothing that fits neatly into a mold-”

He stepped back, turning them in time with the music—and then stopped mid-sentence. His gaze had caught on something.

Gold.

Her long, golden-blond hair flowed down her back, long enough that it seemed to brush along her thighs. A gold-and-white gown surrounded her, a pale veil circling her arms and moving with every gesture as though it were part of her.

She wasn’t dressed extravagantly - yet she stood out all the same. The gown was calm, almost restrained, adorned with delicate, warm gold patterns. A quiet contrast to the other women in their eye-catching attire.

She also wore no jewelry meant to draw the eye upward, to demand attention. filigreed ornament rested at her hip - light metal with a blue stone, so subtle one would only notice it when looking closely.

She was subtly striking, and that alone made it impossible for Shamil to look away.

She was speaking with another woman, white-haired and dressed in green. Though the other’s was far more noticeable, she seemed oddly insignificant by comparison.

Shamil was so captivated by the golden figure, who seemed out of place, that he failed to notice Eterna watching him with quiet curiosity.

"Shaaamil!"
Her voice wavered as she tried to draw his attention. She succeeded, as he turned toward her with a confused look.

"What is it?"
His reply was a little curt, which made her stare back at him, taken aback.

"I was talking to you! You didn't finish your sentence."
Annoyed, she tightened her grip on his arm before letting go. They both stepped back, only to return to their starting positions.

"Ah- sorry. I was distracted."
His gaze drifted back to the woman.
"Who is that?"

"Hm?"
Eterna followed his line of sigh, needing a moment to notice the two women.

"Oh? So this is your taste? A little... unexpected."
A smile curved her lips.
"I'm honestly surprised you don't know her, considering she was once the talk of the nobility!"

Shamil thought about it.
Was that really so? How could he have never seen her—or even heard of her? He prided himself on knowing everything that moved within noble circles. After all, one of his house’s guiding principles was knowledge is power.

That's why he was so surprised.

While he was lost in thought, he felt Eterna step closer and whisper into his ear.

“She belongs to the house bearing the Silver Tree crest. You know—the old lord whose heir supposedly doesn’t share his blood.”

The young man flinched at her sudden closeness and the whisper, then looked at her in confusion.

"I'm not talking about that Lily woman."

"Oh, really?"
She leaned back again.

"The lady beside her. I've never seen her before."
His gaze slid back to the pair, settling once more on the figure in gold.

"The one next to her?"
Eterna followed his gaze once more, now noticing the other woman as well.

“Oh… I can’t tell you,” she admitted. “I’ve never seen her either. To be honest, she barely caught my attention.”

She rarely paid much mind to the other women present. Only a handful truly interested her on a personal level. Still, she was surprised by her friend’s fixation. The woman in gold didn’t seem like someone who would suit him at all—reserved, almost shy, making no effort to present herself or invite a dance. Even after the noblewoman from the Silver House left her side, she remained standing slightly turned away.

All the more confusing, then, when Shamil released Eterna’s hand and stepped away from her.
Startled, she tried to call after him, but he vanished behind the moving bodies of the dancing couples.

He, on the other hand, didn't care that he was leaving his longtime friend behind. He was too intrigued by this person who didn't quite fit in.

With confident steps, he approached her and came to a graceful halt just behind her.

"I wish you a pleasant evening."

The blonde woman in front of him flinched slightly before turning around, her movements hesitant.

He had hoped to catch a glimpse of her face - until now, he had only seen her in profile. Instead, he realized she was wearing a simple white mask that covered the upper half of her face. The lighting made it impossible to properly see her eyes.

That, however, was no issue for him. There was plenty else to observe.

From this close, he could examine the ornament at her hip. His attention lingered on her attire, drawn to its unusual cut. Beneath the thin golden outer layer, a simple white dress was visible through an asymmetrical opening. Delicate golden patterns climbed along the fabric like vines, ending at her hip where the metallic ornament rested - a golden flower with a light blue core. Even standing this close, it remained remarkably understated.

“Um… I wish you a very pleasant evening, sir.”
The lady cleared her throat before lifting her dress slightly in an elegant greeting.

Shamil's focus immediately shifted upwards. He noticed the delicate necklace at her throat—simple gold, adorned with a soft blue stone. As she straightened, a few strands of hair slipped over her shoulder. Only then did he notice her hair ornament as well: modest gold, shaped like a flower, holding her side-swept bangs in place.

So much gold - yet none of it demanded attention. Rather, it resembled a warm, gentle glow.

"Can I... be of assistance?"
She spoke hesitantly, her voice quiet and light, though not overly high-pitched. Some women altered their voices to sound more appealing - something Shamil had never cared for. Her voice, by contrast, was natural. Pleasant.

He offered his most charming smile, careful not to startle the reserved woman.

"Indeed, you could!"
He placed one hand over his chest, just beneath his brooch, and bowed slighty.

"I would be delighted to invite you to a dance."
He extended his other hand, waiting for her response.

Then came the second surprise of the evening.

“I… please forgive me. I am only attending tonight as a companion.”

Shamil could not recall ever being refused. Under different circumstances, it might have irritated him - made him wonder what arrogance drove such a response. But with her, his curiosity only deepened. Another inconsistency.

"What a shame."
He straightened up.
“It seems such a pity to keep such a beautiful dress hidden away. I am certain your presence would shine even more beneath the grand light at the center of the hall!”

His tone was playful, yet sincere. The golden fabric might not be as ostentatious as others, but when it caught the light - he could easily imagine how it would suit her.

"Thank you."
She smiled softly.

It suited her.

Still, it wasn’t enough.
He wanted more.

“May I ask whom you are accompanying this evening?"

Part of him didn’t care.
Another part very much did. He wanted to know who she belonged to.

“I am accompanying the lady of the Silver House.”

The woman she had been speaking with earlier.

“Are you a friend of the house-” he asked, “or a family member?”
If she were merely an escort, her rank could not be particularly high. Or she were the youngest of her family.

She hesitated, searching for words.
But why? Was she perhaps being disingenuous? He hoped not. Otherwise, she would be no different from the rest.

“Well… we are something like family,” she said at last. “Distant relatives, rather. I belong to a different branch of different blood.”

Shamil blinked in surprise.
For the third time in this short exchange, he found himself caught off guard. It was rare for him to encounter so many unexpected truths in such quick succession.

If that was the case, then she must belong to the original bloodline.
Which begged the question - why was this Lily part of the house at all? Someone who doesn't share the same blood?

Perhaps a family twist?
How very interesting.
The young man absolutely had to find out more!

He was just about to invite her to dance once more when someone approached her.

„Nilla, I'm back- oh- ah… I wish you a wonderful evening.“

"I wish you the same."

His charming smile remained, though it had lost some of its sincerity. He had been enjoying his conversation with the elegant lady far too much. Did the woman from the Silver House truly have to return at this very moment?

"Forgive me for asking, but what brings us the honor of welcoming you?"
Lily wasn't a big fan of the high nobility. She had nothing against them personally. But as someone adopted into a noble house and forever standing slightly beneath them, she preferred to keep her distance. She didn't like the structure, the unspoken rules, the quiet imbalance.

“Haha, as straightforward as ever,” Shamil replied.

That honesty was one of the few traits he found tolerable in her. Lily had no reason to feign politeness or cloak herself in hypocrisy. She rarely moved within noble circles, and thus had no need to perform.

“I was speaking with your companion,” he continued, “and was just about to invite her to dance once more.”

"To... dance?"
She glanced at her companion, who seemed a little confused. She couldn't help but wonder what her companion might have done to draw the attention of someone from the high nobility.

"Indeed. Though she has already declined once. She told me she is merely your escort.”
Shamil remained polite but was a little impatient. He wanted to know more. More about this twist he didn't know about, and more about that lady.

"Please excuse us for a moment."

Lily offered a brief bow before gently pulling Nilla aside.

“What happened Nilla?” she asked in a low voice. “I was gone only for a moment…”

There was no accusation in her tone - only concern. It was the first time the other was attending such a grand ball, surrounded by people of this standing. That was one of the reasons they had chosen to remain near the edge of the hall. To allow her to get used to the atmosphere.

However, it wasn't the only reason.

"I honestly don't know." Nilla replied softly. “Only moments after you left, he appeared before me.” A sigh escaped these lips, a sense of confuse at the situation.

"Who is he anyway? He seemed familiar."

"That's... Shamil. Someone from the high nobility."

Understanding dawned slowly. Even beyond the city, the five noble houses were known by name. Still, this was the first time Nilla had ever spoken to someone like that face to face.

“I don’t know why he wishes to dance with you.” Lily continued carefully.
“But refusing him outright could become… unpleasant.”
She hesitated, choosing her words with care.

“His mother is kind, warm-hearted - and she still governs the house. But Shamil is… different.”
Lily paused. She did not wish to frighten him.

“Once, I spoke with someone from another of the five houses. They told me that Shamil shows little regard for others when it comes to easing his boredom—or obtaining what he desires.”

Nilla let the words sink in. The man she described did not entirely match the one he had spoken with moments earlier. The conversation had felt… alright. Even though it was rather short.

“Still…” Lily added quietly.
“What worries me most is his sharp mind and intelligent nature."

Her gaze lingered on Nilla’s masked face.

"I... don't know what will happen if someone like him were to uncover your secret.”

Nilla’s eyes drifted back toward Shamil, now engaged in conversation with another guest.
Unlike before, he seemed less... charming. His smile was still there - but it seemed different now. Nilla couldn't say why, but his smile seemed somehow different.

"Nilla."

"What is it, Lily?"

“Since this is your very first time attending an event like this,” Lily said gently, “I want the decision to be yours. Whatever you choose to do.”
She took Nilla’s hands in hers. Unlike her own long gloves, his were short and white, adorned only with a thin gold band around the wrist.

"You really wanted to experience something like this. To see what I see.”
A faint smile touched her lips.
“My family and I were truly happy that we could grant you that wish.”

Her gaze flickered briefly to her dress.
“Even if we had to do it this way…”

Nilla studied her expression. He understood what she meant. Yet he did not see it as something negative.

"Please don't apologize, Lily. This was my decision.”

And it was. Lily had merely offered the invitation. He had chosen to accept it. Even if it meant attending this grand event disguised as a young lady - just so that no one would suspect them.

If it were ever discovered that someone like him stood here tonight, the consequences would not fall on him alone. They would reach Lily. Her family.
And that was something he could never allow. Not to the people who had treated him like a son for so many years.

Once, he had even been offered formal adoption into their house, just as Lily had been. But Nilla had refused. He could not leave his mother behind - alone in their hometown.
It would be possible for her to move with if Nilla accepted the offer. But both of them knew it would never have been that simple.

Besides, his mother loved her life. She loved taking care of her little sheep. And Nilla loved it too.
Of course, it was sad to live so far away from his friend. But unfortunately, he couldn't choose both at the same time.

"Okay. But..."
Her eyes met his again.
“No matter what happens, I will take full responsibility.”

Nilla smiled at her gently.
“Thank you, Lily. Just hearing that gives me enough courage.”

The woman in the dark green dress returned his smile, her grip on his hands tightening slightly.

“So,” she asked quietly, “will you accept the invitation?”

"I... I don't know. I would be lying if I said I wasn’t tempted.”
His gaze drifted for a moment.

“Ever since I was a child, I wanted to dance like this - surrounded by beauty."
A small pause.

“And it would likely make things easier for you if I didn’t refuse, wouldn’t it?”
He exhaled softly.

“But if he truly is as you say… it may be wiser to keep my distance. I don’t want to draw you into danger. Not when the risk of being exposed is so high.”

“Please don’t think about me,”
Lily said firmly. She squeezed his hands.
“You are here because you wanted to be. To see this world for yourself. To attend a ball.”

Nilla remembered his own words from long ago.

Lily had shown him so much. Taught him so much. Books, etiquette—everything he would need in a place like this. She also always returned with stories when she visited.

It was mostly the books that captured his interest, as well as the dancing.

They had so much fun while practicing together that one day he had asked - half joking, half dreaming - what it would be like to stand in the middle of it all.

Surrounded by beautiful music.

Dancing couples.

The scent of fine food in the air.

Even his mother had wanted him to see it, fearing he might one day regret staying behind.

But Nilla had always told her the same thing:
Seeing it once would be enough.
He had never felt the urge to leave his life.

He sighed softly.

His mother and Lily were both far too protective. And that was precisely why he loved them.

“Let’s return for now,” she said at last. “We’ve been talking among ourselves for too long. Any longer, and it might start to draw attention.”

Nilla nodded. They released each other’s hands and stepped back to the young blue haired man.

"Ah, are the ladies ready?" Shamil smiled softly, a quiet chuckle escaping him.
“I had almost thought the evening would end without us speaking again.”

His words were directed solely at Nilla, who now felt more uncertain than before.
Even before Lily had returned, he hadn’t truly known how to deal with this young man.
Now, however, he carried knowledge that should remain carefully tucked away - for the time being.

"Forgive us. There were a few things I needed to discuss with her first." His gaze flickered to Lily as her voice rang out, but he showed little interest in keeping his attention on her. Instead, he turned fully toward the lady in gold.

“I understand. But now that everything is settled - how about a small dance?”
He extended his hand once more.

“As caring as someone from the House of the Silvertree is, surely it would be acceptable for their escort to accept a dance.”

Nilla looked at his outstretched hand.
Then at his face - having to lift his gaze slightly. He had positioned himself carefully, standing in a way that made him appear a little shorter.

That, however, would no longer hold once they danced.

Turning away from Shamil’s charming smile, he glanced at his friend.

He truly didn’t know what to do. There was something about this man that felt… unsettling. And yet, at the same time, curiosity stirred within him.

What was it like to dance with someone of the high nobility?
Was it different from dancing with his mother?
Different from dancing with Lily?

When he had learned to dance, he had only ever known the male lead.
It was only after learning about the ball - barely a week ago - and discussing how he could attend, that they had practiced what it meant to dance from the female position.

...

Perhaps he should decline. He wasn’t a poor dancer, but the thought of embarrassing himself made his chest tighten.

That fear eased the moment he felt Lily’s hand gently close around his.
She said nothing - only squeezed his hand softly and nodded.
Not as an answer, but as reassurance: I’m here.

Nilla smiled warmly at her and turned back to Shamil once Lily released him.
He glanced at the offered hand again, hesitated.

Then, carefully, he placed his gloved hand into Shamil’s.

"It would be my pleasure."

His voice was calm, careful. He didn’t wish to say too much.
Thankfully, he didn’t have to alter his voice much - it was naturally light and gentle.
Still, the fear of saying the wrong thing lingered.

“The pleasure is mine!”
Shamil seemed pleased with the decision, even if it had taken a moment.
The outcome, after all, was what mattered.

He guided the lady onto the dance floor with gentle confidence, ensuring she had enough space as they moved toward the center.
He took her hand, positioning it properly, while keeping the other steady.
Nilla followed his lead, letting Shamil set the first step.

Almost immediately, the attention of the room shifted back toward Shamil - now dancing with a new partner.

The golden gown flowed gracefully around her, the veils at her arms moving as though they danced on their own.

It was a captivating sight, especially beneath the glow of the chandelier above. Yet something caught his attention.

For a lady, she was unusually tall.
Her hands as well - larger than expected, though still delicate beneath her gloves.
He himself was slightly taller. Maybe few centimetre - but still.

As for her height, it was difficult to judge.
Her dress was too long to allow a proper look, though he couldn’t help but admire how effortlessly she moved - never once stumbling, even with this long dress and hair.

But he also noticed her posture: tense.

Was she simply unaccustomed to such dances? Or was it because of him?
It wouldn't be an unfamiliar reaction.

It didn’t seem to be the latter. Her gaze drifted downward from time to time, focused on her steps. Somehow, Shamil found it endearing. He had never formally danced with someone who looked away from him - someone who cared more about the rhythm than the eyes watching her.

"Nilla was your name, correct?"

The lady looked at the blue-haired man and confirmed it with a small nod and a quiet word.

“A beautiful name, for a truly charming lady.”
He rarely spoke genuine words to women. But this time was an exception.
“My name is Shamil. I assume you’ve heard of it.”

“I have heard quite a bit about you and your house.”
Nilla confirmed again, thinking how arrogant the other sounded. Still, he was only stating the truth - the high nobility was widely known.

"Oh, really? I certainly hope only good things!" Shamil guided her gently into a turn, and the surrounding couples mirrored the movement.

“Of course. Everyone knows of the house’s generosity.”
It was a half-truth. Nilla knew little more than fragments - things Lily had mentioned in passing. He hadn’t studied the house in detail, only memorized enough to hold a conversation.

“That is true! Though generosity is not our only charming trait.” He smiled at her, careful to keep his tone light.

“May I ask how you spend your leisure time?” he asked directly.

“Of course. I enjoy reading and dancing.”
He paused briefly.
“I’m not particularly selective when it comes to books. Lately, however, I’ve grown interested in historical accounts.”

“Oh? An educated lady!”
Shamil’s smile widened.
“Not only graceful and charming, but intelligent as well!”

It genuinely intrigued him. Rarely did he meet women interested in history - most preferred fanciful tales and idle romances.

"I am...thankful for your compliment."
Nilla hadn’t expected such enthusiasm. He'd rather thought he received a half-hearted reply.

"But that is quite a coincidence. I, too, greatly enjoy reading - our interests seem to overlap.”

The blond man didn't know how sincere it was. But it seems the other was speaking with heart. Also he didnt think the other would lied.

"Actually, I had planned to use these days to read a new book series. But unfortunately, this ball came up." Another turn of the wheel, during which Nilla momentarily shifted his focus away from Shamil.

“I had intended to spend the coming days reading this new series,”
Shamil continued as he guided her through another turn, briefly losing Nilla’s gaze.
“At first, I was less than enthusiastic about this event.”
He let out a soft breath before smiling again.
“But now, I find myself glad to have attended. I was able to meet you.”

Nilla was... confused.
Was this how nobles behaved? Openly admitting their dislike for such gatherings and then flirting so freely?

Was this flirting? Or merely polite compliments?
Weren’t compliments already a form of flirting?

He didn’t know.
No one had ever spoken to him this way before.

“Do you have a particular favorite among the books you enjoy?”

“A favorite?”
Nilla considered the question. He had read so many, so it was difficult to choose.
“I suppose… I’m most fascinated by ancient histories of the land. Stories from a time when people still spoke of old powers and gods said to have existed.”

"Hmm, not a bad choice! Though it borders rather closely on fantasy.”

He didn't sound particularly enthusiastic to Nilla, and it confused him again how openly he was displaying his emotions.

“Do you dislike such stories?”

"I beg your pardon."
His voice carried a note of certainty.
“There are far more compelling things than invented tales written without purpose or reason.”

“I don’t believe there is anything wrong with them.”
Nilla shifted his focus fully back to Shamil.
“Such stories allow one to step into a world entirely different. One removed from everyday life.”

Shamil studied her.
“And why would one wish for that? Life exists here and now. Rather than escaping into imagined worlds that distort reality and expectations, it is far better to face what is real.”

It reminded him of the hypocrisy of the nobility. Of people pretending interest, only to recoil once reality intruded.

“But doesn’t everyone dream of something else, from time to time? Whether out of curiosity, boredom… or the desire to experience something different.”
Nilla tilted his head slightly, a gentle smile on his lips.

“You must have felt that way at least once too."

Shamil was caught off guard again.
That smile - paired with her calm voice - was undeniably captivating. His gaze lingered.

However, her answer was also unexpected. It was as if she knew what was going through his mind. Things that haunted him.

She truly stood apart from the others.

A faint smile curved his lips

“You’re not entirely wrong.~”
He leaned slighty forward.
"If you wouldn’t mind, I’d love to hear a recommendation from you.”

Nilla instinctively leaned back, reclaiming a sliver of distance.
“…I’ll see what I can suggest.”

Shamil’s grin lingered for a moment before he stepped back, seamlessly guiding them back into the rhythm of the dance.

By the way,” he added lightly, “you’re a fine dancer. It’s easy to tell you enjoy it.”
Good - still tense, but less so than before. The conversation seemed to have eased her, at least a little.

“Thank you.” Nilla replied softly. “I owe that mostly to Lily. She’s been teaching me since we were children.”
Was it too much?
Shamil spoke so freely of himself that Nilla felt compelled to offer pieces of himself in return.

“You seem very close,” Shamil remarked. “What is your relationship, exactly?”

“She’s a dear friend,” Nilla said after a brief moment. “Like a sister to me.”
Keeping pace with the dance while measuring every word was exhausting. Still, he was relieved - no missteps so far.

“I see,” his voice sounded warm. “That’s a beautiful bond.”

The smile he gave her was gentle, practiced - and devastatingly effective.

Nilla had heard stories of Shamil’s charm, how easily he could turn heads. He’d always thought those tales exaggerated.
Now, seeing it up close, he understood.

It wasn’t overwhelming.
It was...

He was already handsome himself, but that smile made even Nilla's heart flutter.
Or was it his words? He was proud to be able to call someone like Lily his friend.

“How is it,” Shamil continued, “that you’ve never attended an event like this before?”

"That..."
The question caught Nilla off guard. He hesitated, searching for a careful answer.
“I was visiting my friends estate. It was all rather spontaneous.”

“So you live outside the city?”

“A little. My family’s home is just beyond the capital - but close enough.”
He should probably take a step back.
The more he talked - the more lies he invented, the harder it would be to keep them. Besides, he didn't know how good his lies were.

“And where exactly is your estate?” Shamil pressed, smoothly. “What is it like there?”

He wanted more.
More answers. More insight into this woman who didn’t behave as she should.

Why was she so reserved?
Why didn't she return his questions?
Why doesn't she ask him anything in return?

"Well..."

Why was she looking for answers?

"It lies east of here.”

"East?"
Shamil’s expression didn’t change, but his thoughts were already moving.
What cities were there in the east?
Was there a city influenced by the nobility?
Belonging to a branch of the Silver House?

“Forgive me,” Nilla said quietly. “I don’t like speaking of my origins.”

Shamil tilted his head.
“But why? If you carry noble blood, surely it’s something to be proud of.”

“I simply think...” Nilla replied, tension creeping back into his posture,
“that there are better places for such conversations than an open hall filled with listening ears.”

He should never have accepted the dance.
Curiosity had outweighed his caution - and now he felt it tightening around him.

Just because he was a little curious.

Shamil noticed the change immediately.
Had he asked too many questions? Or was it, as she said, simply the atmosphere?

“If you’d prefer,” he said gently, adjusting their steps,
“we can move to the edge of the room.”
A pause.
“Or we can keep dancing.”

Nilla hesitated.
Which would be better?

“I do enjoy dancing,” he admitted under his breath, glancing around.
Only now did he realize how many eyes were fixed upon them. He was to focused.
“But not… like this. Not so openly.”

Shamil understood at once.

In one smooth motion, he halted their steps, a firm hand settling at Nilla’s back as he guided him into a shallow dip. Instinctively, Nilla’s fingers curled into the fabric at Shamil’s shoulder.

“Then look only at me.~” He grinned mischievously at Nilla. The distance between them vanished.

Nilla startled. He looked up at the others with wide eyes.
Then his gaze caught on Shamil’s eyes.
Beneath the pale strand of hair, he saw it clearly now.

Two mismatched colors.
Striking. Intent.
A prominent mark above one eye.

It was... interesting.

At the same time, Shamil noticed what the mask had hidden.

In the softened glow of the chandelier, her eyes met his.

Two soft colors - different, yet harmonious.

For a moment, they forgot the ballroom. Couldn't tear their gaze away.

Shamil lifted his hand slowly, fingertips brushing the edge of the mask.

“May I see your face?” he asked, quietly.

Nilla inhaled sharply, the closeness suddenly undeniable.

“Forgive me,” he said after a moment. “But this mask is part of my attire. My Aun- Lily’s mother helped choose it - and I would rather not remove it.”

It wasn't a lie.
Just not the whole truth.

Shamil’s fingers lingered, studying the golden lady. Then, slowly, he removed them from the mask. Offered a gentle soft smile.

“Of course,” he said, brushing a loose strand of hair from Nilla’s shoulder instead.
“It would be a shame to disturb the harmony of such a beautiful presentation.~”

Nilla looked away.

The closeness.
The charming words.
The hand still resting at his back.

It made his breath feel... unsteady.

The blue-haired man led her back to their starting position. But instead of continuing the dance, he gently held Nilla’s hand.

“How about we move to the side, away from the dancing crowd?” he suggested softly.
“There we can continue our conversation undisturbed.”

The blond man wasn’t entirely sure. He didn’t even know whether he truly wanted to keep talking.

Still, he gave a small nod and allowed Shamil to guide him toward the edge of the hall.

In a quiet corner, far from the bustle of the event, Shamil released Nilla’s hand and gave her space to settle. He positioned himself in such a way that the ballroom disappeared behind him.

The voices.
The light.
The gazes - all of it remained behind him.

Only Nilla stayed within his focus.
At the same time, he ensured that no one else would seek her attention.

“It’s a bit quieter here, don’t you think?” Shamil said calmly.

Nilla glanced around for a brief moment before looking back at him. He stood close - but not too close. The wall behind him was a few steps away, and there was only a small table nearby. Even the music sounded softer here.

Or was it because of him that the music seemed quieter?

Shamil’s presence felt after all more pronounced.

“I couldn’t continue asking earlier,” Shamil went on, his tone thoughtful.
“The topic captivated me too much.”
He tilted his head slightly.

“But tell me - are there other leisure activities you enjoy? Horseback riding, perhaps?”

“I do enjoy riding,” Nilla replied, “though caring for such beautiful animals appeals to me even more.”
A lie. He couldn't ride. The only thing he had ever ridden was a sheep, back when he was very young.

“But reading is what I enjoy most,” he continued carefully, “as well as learning new things.”

Shamil’s attention sharpened.
Not only well-read - but curious as well?

There was little he found more appealing than someone who sought knowledge. Someone who did not stagnate. Someone independent, not so easily shaped or pushed aside by society.

And that was exactly what this lady reflected.

She was no typical noblewoman, following rigid rules and attempting to charm others into submission. Instead, she was reserved - and carried the wish and seek for knowlegde.

Truly fascinating!

“If you enjoy reading so much,” his familiar smile returned, subtle and knowing.
“then you must be familiar with the kingdom's grand library."

“Indeed,” Nilla replied softly. His gaze lowered slightly.
“It is one of the realm’s great buildings. I would love to visit it someday - but I’ve never had the opportunity.”

He longed to see it at least once. Lily had told him how immense it was, how vast the knowledge collected there was - and how it continued to grow.

“Is that so?” Shamil’s expression brightened.
“Then allow me to invite you there next time!”

How fitting.

For the lady, it would be a feast for the eyes. No library far and wide was as magnificent, as proud, or as rich in knowledge as his own!

“Is it truly that simple?” Nilla asked hesitantly.
“I heard not everyone is granted access.”

Shamil laughed openly.
“Hahaha - silly you.~ Do you ask for permission in your own house before entering your room? Or bringing a guest with?”

Nilla looked at him in surprise.

"The library belongs to you-" He stopped himself abruptly, biting the inside of his cheek.
That was information he should have known - information expected of someone of noble standing. At least if he's playing as such one. He remembered how the spheres of influence of the five great houses had once been explained to him.

Shamil blinked.
For the fifth time that evening - because of this woman. He had never expected to meet someone unaware of the proud legacy of his house. What struck him just as strongly, however, was her reaction: the pause, the slight turn away - as if she herself had realized her words had strayed out of line.

His curiosity only deepened.

"That's right! So don't trouble yourself with the trivial things."
He turned slightly away from Nilla and beckoned someone over.

"The library is not only a source of pride for the kingdom, but also for our house."

A servant approached them with a tray, carrying two glasses filled with an almost translucent liquid.

"I think you can imagine its value," Shamil continued, taking both glasses and offering one to her.
"It holds knowledge from both past and present."

Nilla hesitated for a moment, then accepted the glass with a quiet, polite murmur of thanks.

Shamil watched her with faint amusement. Someone who behaved like this was… intriguing.
The way she held the glass was correct - proper - but stiff, lacking the effortless familiarity he was used to.
And above all, there was something absent: not elegance, no - she possessed that in abundance.
Rather, it was her stance, her bearing, that did not quite align with her appearance.

Another detail that refused to fit.

And the longer he observed her, the more the image fractured instead of settling.
When he considered everything so far, there were too many small inconsistencies - things that refused to form a whole.

Or was it merely his perception?
Because she stood apart from the other ladies?

He found himself wanting to know more about her origins.
Perhaps there, he would find the reason for the way she carried herself - why she seemed just slightly out of place.

"That, I suppose, is the nature of libraries," Nilla said after a moment, the voice calm.
"There are few places better suited for learning than a room filled with books. So i think every library has its worth."

Shamil studied her.
Was she truly comparing an ordinary library to his own - to the one that guarded its knowledge with such splendor?

A soft scoff left him before he could stop it. How could she be so effortlessly entertaining?

"You’re right," he admitted.
"Knowledge, in any form, carries value."

He gently swirled the glass in his hand.
"Does your homeland possess such a place as well?"

"We do," she replied after a brief pause.
"Though i am sure it cannot compare to yours."

A library was not quite the right word. The only place in his village where knowledge was collected was a small chapel. Sometimes the priest taught the village children simple things like reading and writing. Something closer to a modest school.

"Haha, you flatter me," Shamil said with a short, pleased laugh.

"I’m only speaking the truth." Nilla's tone was gentle, sincere.
To him, he likely sounded arrogant again - but that was merely pride, stirred by praise of his library.

And yet, he wondered...

"If you are the library’s owner… do you oversee it yourself? The knowledge it holds?"

He could hardly imagine that he did it by himself. But the way he spoke about it made him uncertain.

"Of course!"
His answer came without hesitation.
"As if I would entrust such a responsibility to someone uneducated - or unworthy."

He might have laughed at that sentiment, had it not been so obvious.
Knowledge was not something to be handed over lightly.

Still, he found himself pleased.
She was finally showing interest - even if it was his library that had drawn it out.

"I see," Nilla said softly.
"That’s incredible. It must be exhausting, carrying such responsibility."

Nilla smiled gently as he was genuinely impressed. Even when his words was... a little unpleasant.

But the blue-haired man lifted an eyebrow in surprise.

Exhausting?

No stranger had ever described his duties that way. Responsibility was not exhausting.
It was inevitable.
A given. A duty one did not question.

And yet-
It amused him.
Her way of thinking amused him.

"It isn’t always easy," he conceded at last.
"Almost every day brings new volumes, new writings that must be examined and sorted."

At times, it was annoying - far too many texts of little worth.
But there were days he truly enjoyed it.

"Still," he added, taking a small sip from his glass.
"that is simply what happens when one’s path is decided before birth."

As he lowered the glass, his gaze settled on her.
From this distance, she seemed a little smaller than she had on the dance floor. Not by much - but enough to notice.

Why was that?

"I’m certain you understand what I mean," he said evenly.
"You must have a path of your own - one that isn’t exactly easy."

Nilla felt a quiet tension coil in his chest.

How was he meant to answer that - without revealing too much?

His gaze drifted to the glass in his hand, which he now slowly swirled as well. He vaguely recalled that this was some kind of gesture nobles often used.

"It is as you say," he began carefully.
"However, it’s nothing particularly important. As a minor branch, I’m granted more freedom than someone like Lily."

Did that sound believable?
Nilla wasn’t sure - but it felt logical enough.

"So you're not highly regarded?"

"No, I’m not."
Nilla met Shamil’s gaze.

"I belong closer to the lower ranks. That’s why I’m merely a companion."
He held eye contact for a brief moment, then lowered his gaze again and offered a small bow.

"Forgive me if that disappoints you."

"But not at all!"
A grin curved across Shamil’s lips.

"Who would I be if I ignored such a charming lady simply because of rank?"
His voice carried quiet amusement.
"That would hardly be fair, wouldn’t it?"

Charming. And interesting.
But it seemed she might have skipped a few lessons in social expectations.

"What?" Nilla lifted his head again, blinking in surprise.
He had always believed the high nobility only concerned themselves with those of equal - or near equal - standing.

"Did you not hear me?"
Shamil stepped closer, leaning in slightly, his voice lowering as he spoke near her ear.

"You're enchanting."

The words and this closeness caught Nilla off guard.
A shiver ran up the back of his neck, fine hairs rising as warmth crept into his cheeks.

He had received compliments before - some admired his long, golden hair, something he himself took pride in. And even this man gave him sweet words only minutes ago.
But no one had ever spoken to him like this.
Not this close.

"I-"
His voice faltered. He cleared his throat quietly.
"Thank you. Truly."

"Don’t thank me," Shamil replied lightly.
"It’s simply the truth."
A soft, audible chuckle followed as he stepped back, giving Nilla space once more.

"Won’t you drink anything?"

Nilla’s gaze returned to the glass.

"Oh that... I rarely drink. I don’t particularly enjoy the taste."
Was it acceptable to refuse?
Lily had said that, depending on the situation, it was allowed..

As well, he didn't really liked such drinks. He had little experience with such things. Someone like him rarely have such a chance. But he would rather not grow accustomed to indulgences he didn’t truly enjoy.

"I see." Shamil followed Nillas gaze.
"Is there something else that suits your taste?"

His taste? Like wine? Something similar? Or did he mean more than that?

Nilla wasn’t sure. He knew too little about what was customary among the nobility - only that luxury was commonplace. But If he remembered correctly, Lily rarely drank such things either...

"I prefer freshly pressed, high-quality juice."

That should be acceptable. Lily loved it.
And younger nobles often chose such things over alcohol.

"Juice? Ha—hahahaha!"

Nilla stiffened at the sound of laughter - not mocking, but genuinely amused. Had he said something wrong?

"Nilla, my lady - You are truly fascinating!"

Shamil watched her closely. He could almost see the confusion flicker behind her eyes.
How innocent she was!
Of course preferring something else was not unusual. But admitting it so openly - before a stranger, no less - and speaking so plainly of one’s tastes?

He had never encountered anything like it.

When had he last laughed like this?

She truly stood apart from the others.
And slowly, he began to understand why she seemed so out of place in this glittering, ostentatious hall.

"Forgive me," Nilla asked carefully,
"did I say something inappropriate?"

Shamil steadied himself, though the grin lingered.

"Of course not! On the contrary - I appreciate your honesty."

He took a sip from his glass.
"I was simply surprised by how sincere your words were."

"There’s no benefit in hiding it," Nilla replied softly.
"Everyone has preferences that might seem unusual at first."

How very true.
And yet how rare to admit it so openly.

Most would bend themselves in any direction to avoid appearing different.
Even he did, when it served him - although he preferred to avoid doing so whenever possible.
But this woman? She gained nothing from such honesty.

Or perhaps - she simply didn't know better?

"Regardless of status," Shamil said at last,
"we all choose what we like and what we don’t. There’s no need to justify yourself to me."

"I didn’t mean to-"
Nilla paused, then nodded.
"… yes. I agree."

A quiet breath of relief left him. It seems his words wasn't wrong. Or perhaps he had simply been lucky?

Shamil could be arrogant - proud - but he was different from the nobles Nilla had known or heard of. But still - this was not his world. He still had to be careful

And yet he found that he genuinely enjoyed the conversation. Even when the man before him was a little too bold.

The conversation continued in a calm, pleasant tone. Shamil asked Nilla more about herself, eager to learn what else the lady in gold might enjoy.

Nilla found himself liking the way it unfolded. Little by little, the other man made him feel as though he could relax. He spoke more honestly now, answering as he felt was appropriate. Shamil didn’t seem to mind that Nilla never once lifted the glass to his lips. Instead, he quietly had a servant take both drinks away.

Shamil, too, was enjoying himself. Yet it was the inconsistencies that truly intrigued him - words that didn’t quite align, habits that didn’t fit the image of a noble lady. Piece by piece, the picture began to take shape, the lingering fog lifting just enough for him to understand why she felt so out of place.

“Sheep?” he said, amused. “That’s rather fascinating. I’ve never come into contact with such animals myself.”

“That’s a bit of a shame,” Nilla replied softly. “I don’t spend much time with them anymore either, but I can say they are gentle, affectionate creatures.”

The thought of them drew a small, genuine smile to his lips. He had been away from home for nearly a week now, carefully preparing for this evening so as not to stand out - or step out of line.

“I would like to experience that for myself…” Shamil thought about it. Or rather, he pretended to. The image was already clear in his mind. Only one last veil remained.

“Would it be possible for me to visit you?” he asked lightly. “You could show me your favorite animals yourself.”

“That-”
The question caught Nilla off guard. Why would a nobleman wish to see sheep? He was pleased by the interest, yet wasn’t it common for nobles to regard farm animals as dirty, beneath them?

“Is that not possible?” Shamil pressed gently, drawing him out of his thoughts.

“Forgive me,” Nilla said after a pause.
“But I fear the journey would be too long. You have your duties, and I can’t be certain you would even encounter them. They… aren’t always nearby. It depends on the farmers, and whether they bring them along.”

Even as he spoke, Nilla felt cornered, unsure how convincing his words truly sounded.

“What a shame,” Shamil murmured, his voice softening, almost disappointed.

Guilt stirred in Nilla’s chest - though he couldn’t quite say why. Perhaps because of the small lies he kept weaving.

“If visiting you would prove difficult,” Shamil continued smoothly.
“then why not visit me instead?”

"Me visit you? But-..." Nilla frowned slightly. Had they not just been speaking of sheep?

“Exactly!” Shamil said, enthusiasm lighting his tone. “You yourself mentioned that a long journey would be difficult for me due to my duties. But you also said you possess more freedom - so surely it would be easier for you!”

He seemed almost more pleased with this idea than the first.

“You even have acquaintances with whom you could stay, should my presence become too much. Still, I would prefer to welcome you into my own home.”

He placed a hand against his chest, just beneath the blue, shimmering brooch.

“And we mustn’t forget the library! You wished to visit it, did you not? It would be my pleasure to grant you that wish.”

"I, well-..." Discomfort crept over Nilla. He was grateful - truly - yet it was impossible. He was already revealing too much. Here, at least, he could flee if everything unraveled.

At Shamil’s home, however-

His gaze searched instinctively for Lily.

"I'm sorry, but I can't-"

“I could even make sure we’re entirely alone,” Shamil interrupted gently.
“Then you wouldn’t have to hide in the fog or behind a mask.”

Nilla’s expression stiffened. In an instant, the warm conversation grew heavy.

Since when?
When had he given himself away?
Had he done so at all?

“I- thank you for the offer,” he said carefully,
“but it truly isn’t possible.”

“But why?” Shamil asked, unperturbed.
“You said yourself that you’re currently visiting your friend and her family. Whenever you plan your next visit, I would be delighted if you thought of me.”

The conversation was slipping from Nilla’s grasp.

“A single letter would suffice,” Shamil continued calmly.
“I would gladly adjust my schedule for you.”

Why was he pressing so much?
Why wouldn’t he accept a refusal?

“I’m truly sorry, but someone like me simply can’t-”

“This is hardly a problem we can’t solve!” Shamil said, smiling.
“You’re playing your role wonderfully, after all.”

Charming.
Dangerous.
And far too perceptive.

Nilla wanted to flee.
His thoughts tangled with guilt and worry - for Lily, for her family, for everything he risked.

"I'm not playing-..."
Green.
Where was the woman in green? Where was Lily?

“Hm? Are you unwell?” Shamil asked, concern softening his voice.
“You seem tense.”
Yet that faint smile never quite left his lips.

Nilla don't understand.

“N-no, I’m fine-”

Then he saw her. By one of the pillars, Lily waved discreetly.
Relief washed through him. Steadying himself, he turned back to Shamil.

He lifted the hem of his golden dress and bent one knee in a graceful farewell.
The conversation had gotten a little out of hand, but once he left the room, he wouldn't have to worry about it again.

“What a shame,” Shamil replied.
“I would have liked to speak with you longer.”

And it truly was a shame.
He felt he had been so close - so close to understanding her. But there was always another time.

Nilla offered him one last warm smile.

Before he could step away, Shamil reached out, gently catching a strand of his long, golden hair. He leaned forward, pressing a brief, respectful kiss to it.

Intimate - yet restrained.

“Do consider it once more,” Shamil murmured.
“I will wait patiently for your answer. No matter how long it takes.”
The same sincere charming smile he had worn at the beginning returned to his lips.

Nilla’s thoughts froze. The gesture took him by surprise. That light kiss on his beautiful, proud hair.

“Enjoy the rest of your evening,” Shamil added softly.
“My enchanting lady.”

The words reached Nilla only vaguely. He nodded faintly and passed by him without another word.

He went straight to Lily.

“I hope I didn’t-” she began, then stopped.
“Nilla? Are you alright?”

Nilla didn’t look at her. He covered the lower half of his face with the back of his hand. His cheeks felt warm - his thoughts still caught in the evening.

The first conversation.
The dance.
The quiet exchange.
The kiss and smile.

He had thought he would never have to think about that insistent, charming nobleman again.

But he suspected it would take a few days before Shamil truly left his mind.