The Alpine Star Hall glittered with elegance that night. Lights shimmered like stars, reflecting off crystal walls, while the grand entrance stood guarded and exclusive. Tonight, only the chosen could enter. Every guest wore a mask; black, silver, or gold… hiding faces and intentions alike.
A sleek car stopped at the entrance, and the door opened. Liam stepped out first, dressed in black, sharp and commanding. A mask of dark obsidian covered half his face, making him cold and untouchable.
Then Lyra emerged, her soft silver gown flowing as she moved. A delicate mask concealed her identity, though not her presence.
She looked around nervously, whispering, "…It's big…" Her unease was met with Liam's low, firm words: "…Stay near me." It was not a request.
Another door opened, and Clarissa appeared in a bold red gown. Her eyes immediately locked onto Lyra, hostility clear even behind the mask. "…Don't wander too far," she said, her tone sweet but unmistakably fake.
Music flowed through the air… slow, elegant, while guests moved like shadows, blending into one another, unrecognizable.
The entrance wasn't just grand, it was controlled. A long, sleek checkpoint stretched before the doors, guarded by men in black, silent and watchful.
At the center, a glowing panel pulsed with cold blue light, its message clear: AUTHORIZED ENTRY ONLY.
Without hesitation, Liam walked ahead. His presence alone commanded space. He placed his thumb on the scanner. A sharp beep followed, then a pause, just one second. The screen lit up: IDENTITY VERIFIED. WELCOME, MR. MOSSBERG. The glass barrier slid open slightly, granting passage.
Clarissa stepped forward next, confidence radiating from every movement. She pressed her thumb against the panel. Another beep. IDENTITY VERIFIED. WELCOME, MISS VANE. She smirked lightly, her eyes flicking toward Lyra with a knowing glance.
Now it was Lyra's turn. She hesitated, her eyes darting to Liam. "…I have to do this too?" she whispered. His reply was calm, assured: "…Just follow."
Slowly, Lyra stepped forward. Her hand trembled as it hovered above the scanner. Clarissa watched closely, her thoughts sharp, Let's see who you really are.
Lyra pressed her thumb down. Beep. Silence. One second. Two. The system flickered, unstable. "…Unregistered…" the screen began, before glitching. Then suddenly: IDENTITY VERIFIED. WELCOME… GUEST.
Lyra blinked. "…Guest…?" she murmured. Clarissa frowned; her voice edged with suspicion. "…That's odd."
Liam's voice cut through, cold and final. "…She's with me." The guard didn't question it. "...Understood." The barrier slid fully open.
But behind the system, a small alert blinked silently: ANOMALY DETECTED. They walked in as if nothing had happened. Yet something had already noticed her. And this time, the system did not forget.
The hall shimmered under crystal lights, elegant yet controlled. Masked guests filled the space, their voices low, movements calculated, every gesture deliberate.
A guard approached with precision, his demeanor professional. "This is your table, Mr. Mossberg," he said, gesturing toward an exclusive section slightly elevated above the rest. "The gala will begin any minute."
"…Thank you." Liam's reply was calm, cold. His eyes swept the surroundings briefly, memorizing every detail before turning toward Lyra. "Lyra." A pause. "You can sit beside me…" His gaze shifted, lingering on Clarissa. "…or Clarissa."
The silence that followed was short, but heavy. Clarissa smiled sweetly, though her eyes were sharp. "Sit with me, Lyra," she said, her invitation soft but carrying the weight of expectation.
Lyra hesitated, her eyes flicking between Liam and Clarissa. A small pause, then her quiet decision: "…I'll sit here." She chose Clarissa.
For a moment, Liam didn't move, didn't speak. He only watched her take the seat, away from him. Something in his expression shifted, slightly darker, though hidden behind the mask.
The music began to rise, filling the hall with elegance and anticipation. The gala was starting. And already, the first move had been made.
The applause faded, but the tension did not. Liam leaned slightly closer, his voice low, meant only for her. "Are you okay, Lyra? Still feeling dizzy in crowds?"
Lyra shook her head lightly. "…It's better now." She drew a small breath, steadying herself. "I took the pill Sera gave me earlier." Her fingers rested on the edge of the table, steady, no longer trembling.
A faint smile appeared on Liam's face, rare and fleeting. "That's good." Without thinking, his hand lifted, and he gently patted her head.
Lyra blinked, caught off guard, but she didn't move away.
Across the table, Clarissa's smile froze just slightly. Her grip tightened around her glass, the polished surface trembling under her fingers. Because that wasn't something Liam did. Not with just anyone.
"…Thank you," Lyra whispered softly, unaware of how much that small gesture meant.
Around them, the gala continued... speeches, laughter, deals whispered behind masks. But at that table, something had already shifted. Quietly. Dangerously.
The presenter stepped aside as the lights shifted. "Please welcome… Mr. Brandon Hansel." Applause echoed through the hall as a man stepped onto the stage, confident, controlled. Brandon Hansel.
"As you all know…" His voice was steady, deliberate. "…recent events in Canada were nothing more than a technical setback." Murmurs rippled through the crowd, subtle but undeniable. "…A temporary disruption," he continued, his gaze sharpening. "…now fully under control." Silence followed, heavy, because no one truly believed him, but no one dared to question.
"And now," Brandon smiled, "we move forward. Phase Two." His hand extended toward the side of the stage. "My daughter will lead this next phase. Please welcome… Rania Hansel."
A figure emerged, a woman in a stunning green gown. Elegant. Commanding. Untouchable. She walked forward with grace, her presence undeniable. "…Thank you, Daddy," she said softly, before turning to the crowd.
"Good evening, everyone. I'm Rania Hansel. I will be leading Phase Two." Her gaze swept the room, sharp and confident. "And I assure you… this system will be completed successfully within this year. We welcome all of you to join us as investors."
The hall erupted in applause, loud, controlled. But at one table, everything stopped.
Lyra froze completely, her fingers trembling. "…Rania…?" she whispered, barely audible. "…That name… Is it… the same one…?" Her chest tightened, pain flickering across her face. "…The one who attacked me…?" Her breathing grew uneven. "…No… It can't be… Right?"
Clarissa turned instantly; her brows furrowed. "…Lyra? You look pale. Are you okay?" Lyra shook her head slightly. "…I'm not okay… Can you take me to the ladies' room? I feel like I'm going to throw up…" She turned to Liam, barely steady. "I'll go first, okay?"
"…Wait." His voice was low, firm. He stood immediately, concern clear. Without hesitation, he removed his blazer and gently placed it over Lyra's head, shielding her view. "…Don't look," he whispered. His eyes cut sharply toward Clarissa. "Clar. Take care of her."
"…Of course," she replied, nodding. But her eyes flickered something else hidden behind them. Clarissa supported Lyra, holding her shoulder, guiding her away. Out of the crowd. Out of the spotlight.
Behind them, Rania continued speaking… unbothered, unaware. Somewhere in the crowd, however, a ghost from her past was starting to remember.
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The door swung open and Lyra rushed inside, barely holding herself together. "Ugh…" she groaned, collapsing forward. Clarissa was right behind her, quick and calm. "Breathe…" she whispered, her hand moving to Lyra's neck, gently massaging. "Just let it out."
A moment later, Lyra bent forward and vomited. Silence followed, broken only by the sound of running water. Slowly, she straightened, her breathing steadier now. "…I'm okay…" she said with a weak smile. "Thank you, Clar…"
"You're welcome." Clarissa's hand continued to rub her back softly. "Let's get some fresh air."
The night air greeted them… cool, quiet. "Sit here," Clarissa guided her to a bench. "I'll get you a white drink." She paused, her voice dropping slightly lower. "If you see anything suspicious… run."
"Run…?" Lyra frowned. "What do you mean? Someone wants to hurt me again?"
"I don't know," Clarissa admitted with a small shrug. "But if something happens… hide somewhere safe. Okay?"
"…Okay…" Lyra whispered, not questioning further. Clarissa turned and walked away, leaving Lyra alone once again.
Lyra leaned back, closing her eyes, feeling the night breeze brush her cheeks as she tried to calm herself. Five minutes passed. Ten. Fifteen. The music from inside faded further away. Guests came and went, but none stayed.
She looked up, fingers tightening slightly. "…Where is she…?Why is she taking so long?" Rising slowly, she glanced toward the entrance. Empty. A strange feeling crept in… unfamiliar, heavy. "…I don't feel good…" she whispered, pressing her hand lightly against her chest. "…being here alone…"
Then came a faint, painful hiss. Lyra's eyes snapped open. "…What was that…?" Her body tensed instantly. "…Who's there?" She stood, heart racing, and took a step back.
"…No…" She turned, ready to run. But then, "…Help…" The voice was weak, broken. "…Help… me…"
Lyra froze, her breath caught. Run, or help? A moment of hesitation, then: "…I can't… I can't just leave…" She turned back and followed the sound.
The bushes parted slightly, and there he was a man in a white and blue suit, sitting on the ground, his hand pressed to his shoulder as blood seeped through. Lyra's eyes widened. "…Oh my God…" Without thinking, she rushed toward him. "Excuse me! Are you okay?" She crouched, trying to see his face. "…You're hurt… Maybe I can help you."
His face was hidden behind a red-tinted mask covering his eyes. He didn't move, didn't answer, just sat there with his head lowered, breathing unevenly. Lyra leaned closer. "…Sir? Can you stand? Let me help you, okay?"
For a second, everything stilled… the wind, the sounds. Then, very slowly, his head lifted just enough to face her. Still, he said nothing. Suddenly, his hand moved fast, grabbing her wrist. Lyra gasped softly as her body was pulled closer. "…Ah! Don't hurt me…" Her voice trembled, but she didn't run. "I just want to help you…"
Her eyes met his under the moonlight… clear, sharp. And for the first time, she saw them: green mixed with grey. Unusual. Mesmerizing. Lyra blinked, caught off guard. "…Wow…" she whispered. "Your eyes are really beautiful…" Then she froze, cheeks flushing. "…Wait, why did I say that at a time like this? I'm sorry!"
He didn't speak, only watched her closely. Lyra quickly looked around, searching. "…I need something to stop the bleeding…" But there was nothing. Then her eyes dropped to her dress. "…Ah…" Without hesitation, she grabbed the hem and tore it. The fabric ripped softly, breaking the dress's elegance but she didn't care.
"…Stay still…" she said softly, focused. She pressed the cloth against his shoulder, firm but careful, then wrapped it tightly into a makeshift bandage. "…There. You'll be okay now." Tilting her head, she asked, "You can't talk? Are you mute?"
"…I'm fine." His voice was low, calm. "Thank you." His gaze flicked to her torn dress. "I ruined your dress."
Lyra shook her head lightly. "It's okay." A small, bright smile. "I'm glad I could help."
She stood, then turned back to him. "Let me help you up? Do you have a room here? I can bring you there."
"…No." A pause. "My assistant is coming. I'll be fine."
Lyra nodded. "Okay… Take care then." She turned to leave, then paused, glancing back. "I'm Lyra, by the way." A simple, pure introduction.
He hesitated, then said, "…Lis. Nice to meet you."
"…Nice to meet you too." She smiled, waved slightly, and disappeared into the crowd.
Silence returned. The man slowly lifted his head, his eyes darkening. "…Lyra…" A faint smile formed, not kind, not soft. "Nice to see you again… dear."
The door swung open and Lyra rushed inside, barely holding herself together. "Ugh…" she groaned, collapsing forward. Clarissa was right behind her, quick and calm. "Breathe…" she whispered, her hand moving to Lyra's neck, gently massaging. "Just let it out."
A moment later, Lyra bent forward and vomited. Silence followed, broken only by the sound of running water. Slowly, she straightened, her breathing steadier now. "…I'm okay…" she said with a weak smile. "Thank you, Clar…"
"You're welcome." Clarissa's hand continued to rub her back softly. "Let's get some fresh air."
The night air greeted them… cool, quiet. "Sit here," Clarissa guided her to a bench. "I'll get you a white drink." She paused, her voice dropping slightly lower. "If you see anything suspicious… run."
"Run…?" Lyra frowned. "What do you mean? Someone wants to hurt me again?"
"I don't know," Clarissa admitted with a small shrug. "But if something happens… hide somewhere safe. Okay?"
"…Okay…" Lyra whispered, not questioning further. Clarissa turned and walked away, leaving Lyra alone once again.
Lyra leaned back, closing her eyes, feeling the night breeze brush her cheeks as she tried to calm herself. Five minutes passed. Ten. Fifteen. The music from inside faded further away. Guests came and went, but none stayed.
She looked up, fingers tightening slightly. "…Where is she…?Why is she taking so long?" Rising slowly, she glanced toward the entrance. Empty. A strange feeling crept in… unfamiliar, heavy. "…I don't feel good…" she whispered, pressing her hand lightly against her chest. "…being here alone…"
Then came a faint, painful hiss. Lyra's eyes snapped open. "…What was that…?" Her body tensed instantly. "…Who's there?" She stood, heart racing, and took a step back.
"…No…" She turned, ready to run. But then, "…Help…" The voice was weak, broken. "…Help… me…"
Lyra froze, her breath caught. Run, or help? A moment of hesitation, then: "…I can't… I can't just leave…" She turned back and followed the sound.
The bushes parted slightly, and there he was a man in a white and blue suit, sitting on the ground, his hand pressed to his shoulder as blood seeped through. Lyra's eyes widened. "…Oh my God…" Without thinking, she rushed toward him. "Excuse me! Are you okay?" She crouched, trying to see his face. "…You're hurt… Maybe I can help you."
His face was hidden behind a red-tinted mask covering his eyes. He didn't move, didn't answer, just sat there with his head lowered, breathing unevenly. Lyra leaned closer. "…Sir? Can you stand? Let me help you, okay?"
For a second, everything stilled… the wind, the sounds. Then, very slowly, his head lifted just enough to face her. Still, he said nothing. Suddenly, his hand moved fast, grabbing her wrist. Lyra gasped softly as her body was pulled closer. "…Ah! Don't hurt me…" Her voice trembled, but she didn't run. "I just want to help you…"
Her eyes met his under the moonlight… clear, sharp. And for the first time, she saw them: green mixed with grey. Unusual. Mesmerizing. Lyra blinked, caught off guard. "…Wow…" she whispered. "Your eyes are really beautiful…" Then she froze, cheeks flushing. "…Wait, why did I say that at a time like this? I'm sorry!"
He didn't speak, only watched her closely. Lyra quickly looked around, searching. "…I need something to stop the bleeding…" But there was nothing. Then her eyes dropped to her dress. "…Ah…" Without hesitation, she grabbed the hem and tore it. The fabric ripped softly, breaking the dress's elegance but she didn't care.
"…Stay still…" she said softly, focused. She pressed the cloth against his shoulder, firm but careful, then wrapped it tightly into a makeshift bandage. "…There. You'll be okay now." Tilting her head, she asked, "You can't talk? Are you mute?"
"…I'm fine." His voice was low, calm. "Thank you." His gaze flicked to her torn dress. "I ruined your dress."
Lyra shook her head lightly. "It's okay." A small, bright smile. "I'm glad I could help."
She stood, then turned back to him. "Let me help you up? Do you have a room here? I can bring you there."
"…No." A pause. "My assistant is coming. I'll be fine."
Lyra nodded. "Okay… Take care then." She turned to leave, then paused, glancing back. "I'm Lyra, by the way." A simple, pure introduction.
He hesitated, then said, "…Lis. Nice to meet you."
"…Nice to meet you too." She smiled, waved slightly, and disappeared into the crowd.
Silence returned. The man slowly lifted his head, his eyes darkening. "…Lyra…" A faint smile formed, not kind, not soft. "Nice to see you again… dear."
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Clarissa wandered along the balcony, a glass of white drink in her hand. She mumbled under her breath, "Where is she?" Her voice low and became irritated. "If Liam finds out she's lost, " A small scoff. "I'll be the one who gets scolded."
She stopped looking around. "Lyra, where are you?" she called out, her voice echoing faintly into the night. For a moment, there was only silence until she heard footsteps approaching from behind. Slowly, she turned her head and saw Lyra walking toward her. "Lyra!"
Clarissa stepped forward quickly. "Lyra, where have you been? I thought you got lost." Her eyes scanned Lyra, checking. "Are you okay?"
"I'm okay, Clar," Lyra replied softly.
Clarissa's gaze dropped instantly to Lyra's dress. The bottom was torn, ripped unevenly. Her expression shifted, alarm flashing across her face. "Wait… what happened to your dress? Did someone touch you?" A pause. " Or force you anywhere?"
Lyra smiled gently, reaching out. She patted Clarissa's hand. "I'm fine. I helped someone. Clarissa's eyes narrowed slightly. "He was injured." Lyra glanced down at her dress. "His shoulder was bleeding, so I tore my dress to cover it." A small shrug. "That's all." A faint smile spread across her face. "He seemed kind, anyway."
Kind? Clarissa grip tightened, just slightly. But her face softened again. "You scared me." She exhaled slowly, her shoulders easing. "Next time, don't wander off helping strangers like that." Her tone lowered. "We don't know what their intentions might be."
"I'm sorry." Lyra eyes dropped slightly. "I just wanted to help." Her face softened with guilt. "I didn't mean to make you worry."
"Here." Clarissa handed her the glass. "Your drink." Lyra took it, sipping slowly, then smiled faintly. "Sorry for making you go get it earlier... Clar."
"It's fine." Clarissa reached out and held Lyra's wrist firmly. "Let's go back to the hall." Her eyes sharpened slightly. "Liam is waiting, and he perhaps already sent his men to look for us. Come."
Lyra nodded quietly. Letting herself be led. Unaware, that something had already changed.
The moment they reached him, Liam's gaze locked onto them, sharp, unmoving.
"Where have both of you been?" His voice was low, controlled, but far from calm. A pause followed, heavy. "That took too long."
His eyes shifted slowly from Clarissa to Lyra, then stopped. The torn fabric caught his attention. His expression darkened instantly. "What happened to your dress?" He stepped forward, closer to Lyra, too close.
"The dress got torn earlier when she helped someone," Clarissa answered smoothly, her tone calm and controlled. She glanced briefly at Lyra, warning. "That's all."
Silence followed. Liam didn't respond immediately. His eyes remained fixed on Lyra, reading her. "Is that true?"
Lyra nodded slowly. "…Yeah…" Her voice was soft. "I helped someone who was hurt. His shoulder was bleeding… so I used my dress." Her fingers tightened slightly.
Liam's jaw clenched just slightly. "…Again." A quiet exhale escaped him. "I told you not to help strangers. You don't know who they are." His voice dropped lower, almost a warning.
Lyra looked down, guilt flickering across her face. "…I'm sorry…"
Clarissa let out a small sigh, clearly unimpressed. "I already lectured her that." Her tone edged with boredom. "No need to repeat yourself, Liam or she'll get bored." A faint smirk played at her lips. "Hopefully she learns."
Without waiting, she turned away, her tone dismissive. "I want to meet Rania. It's been a while. Bye…" She walked off, elegant. Unbothered.
Liam watched her leave, his face tightened, a brief flicker of annoyance passing through. Then, he turned back to Lyra. "Don't take her words seriously. "She's… not as harsh as she sounds."
Lyra smiled faintly. "It's okay." A soft nod. "I know she just wants me to be safe."
Liam's tone softened, but his authority remained. "Come. Let's meet Brandon. I need to talk to him." His hand brushed against hers, holding lightly as guiding her forward.
TBC