The evening air was cool as Katherine and Aunt Yevon stepped out of the mansion, their carriage waiting at the foot of the grand stairs.
Philemon, the ever-dutiful butler, stood ready, his impeccable posture as stiff as ever. Katherine adjusted her sapphire gown, watching as the rich fabric swished dramatically with her movements. She had to admit—as much as she disliked dressing up, she looked good.
Then, she noticed something odd.
The carriage had no horses.
She frowned, turning to her aunt. "Uh, are the horses invisible, or is this some sort of magic?"
Aunt Yevon chuckled. "It's powered by a machine."
Katherine blinked. "A machine? In a carriage?"
"Yes," Yevon said smoothly, stepping forward as Philemon opened the door.
Katherine's mind reeled. Wait. A mechanical carriage? In Florante at Laura? Since when did this book have steampunk elements?
Still, she slid into the carriage, tucking her gown around her. The interior was plush, the seats softer than expected. Yevon followed, and as the door clicked shut, the carriage started its silent glide down the cobblestone street.
Katherine leaned back against the seat, staring out the window as the city lights flickered past.
"So," she mused, "is this ball supposed to be fun, or is it just a glorified networking event?"
Yevon smiled knowingly. "A bit of both. With all the graduates attending, you'll find excitement... but also tension. Balls like these are where connections are made, alliances forged, and—on occasion—rivalries settled."
Katherine raised a brow. "Rivalries? This is sounding less like a party and more like a battlefield in fancy shoes."
Yevon chuckled. "You're not entirely wrong."
Katherine sighed, absentmindedly smoothing out her gown. "And what exactly am I supposed to do in all this?"
"Enjoy yourself." Yevon reached over and gave her hand a reassuring squeeze. "You don't have to scheme or worry about politics. Just be yourself."
Katherine huffed. "I don't know if 'myself' fits in a place like this."
Yevon gave her an amused look. "You'd be surprised. People will notice you—not just because you're my niece, but because you're different. You see things in a way most nobles don't. And that, my dear, makes you interesting."
Katherine wasn't sure if that was comforting or a warning.
As they neared the palace gates, the grand structure loomed before them—stone pillars rising into the night, windows gleaming like watchful eyes.
The carriage rolled to a smooth stop.
The doors swung open, and Philemon descended like a theatrical ghost, extending his hand. "Marchioness Yevon. Lady Katherine."
Yevon stepped out first, graceful as ever, followed by Katherine, who tried not to trip over her gown.
As they ascended the palace steps, the double doors swung open, revealing the opulence of the ballroom.
Golden chandeliers cast a warm glow over the gleaming marble floors, the scent of roses mingling with the soft hum of conversation.
And then—Philemon cleared his throat.
"Marchioness Yevon has arrived."
The room fell silent.
Heads turned. Whispers spread like wildfire.
Katherine stiffened. Why is everyone staring like we just walked in with a royal decree?
She leaned toward her aunt, her voice low. "Is this really necessary?"
Yevon smiled serenely. "It's tradition, dear."
Katherine inhaled sharply and plastered on a polite expression, silently questioning all her life choices.
Okay. Keep it together. Pretend you belong here.
She followed her aunt's lead, her grip tightening on the fabric of her gown. Though she had dressed the part, she still felt like an actor in the wrong play.
The murmurs gradually resumed, but several curious gazes lingered.
Katherine could already tell—this was more than just a ball.
This was the heart of noble politics.
And whether she liked it or not, she had just stepped onto the stage.
***
Katherine had been at the ball for nearly an hour, and the novelty had died a slow, painful death.
The music played softly, the air was filled with chatter and laughter, and yet she felt utterly, mind-numbingly bored.
Aunt Yevon, ever the social butterfly, moved through the room with ease, greeting nobles like it was a sport she had mastered. Meanwhile, Katherine stood beside her like a decorative vase, nodding politely at introductions but never really engaging in the conversations.
The only real highlight? The food.
At least the appetizers were fantastic. The delicate pastries were works of art, and she was fully prepared to eat her way through the event if necessary. The only problem? No one else was actually eating.
Katherine glanced around.
Everyone was either dancing or talking, sipping from their untouched glasses of wine like polite little aristocrats who had transcended the need for food.
Not that she cared. She took another bite of a delicious tart and refused to feel bad about it.
But the small talk never ended.
Every few minutes, a new noble would appear, smiling just a little too perfectly, offering pleasantries that meant absolutely nothing. Aunt Yevon, ever graceful, handled the exchanges like a master, even smoothing over Katherine's many (many) polite refusals to dance.
Katherine wasn't sure if it was rude to keep turning people down, but the thought of waltzing awkwardly in the middle of the ballroom made her want to jump out the nearest window.
She needed a break.
Slipping away from the endless introductions, she wove through the ballroom, making her way toward a set of tall windows.
A cool breeze filtered in from outside, and Katherine sighed in relief as she leaned against the windowsill, gazing out at the palace gardens.
For all its social exhaustion, the ball was undeniably beautiful.
Golden chandeliers bathed the room in warm light, casting soft reflections on the polished floors. The women glittered in jeweled gowns, the men in sharp suits, the whole scene looking like something out of a painting.
But somehow, she still felt out of place.
She wasn't dancing.She wasn't making connections.She was here, but she wasn't really here.
Katherine sighed, staring into the quiet night.
What am I even doing here?
She barely noticed the soft footsteps behind her.
The movement was subtle, almost lost in the hum of the music, but something in her sensed it.
A presence.
Just as she turned, a voice cut through the stillness.
"Quite a peaceful view, isn't it?"
Katherine's breath caught for a fraction of a second.
A man stood just a few feet away.
Silver hair. Red eyes.
The dim lights of the ballroom cast a faint glow on his face, his expression unreadable.
His dark suit was tailored perfectly, his posture both elegant and effortless, as if he had always belonged here.
And yet… something about him felt unreal.
Familiar, yet distant.
Like she had seen him before—somewhere, sometime—but the memory was just out of reach.