The grand ballroom of the Aurelian Estate glittered beneath chandeliers that scattered light like shattered stars. Laughter floated above clinking glasses; violins weaved melodies into the velvet night. Beneath golden arches and silk banners, masked figures danced, networked, whispered.
But Leon Valen stood apart.
Clad in a sharp black suit, his mask matte and minimal, he watched from the edge — golden eyes scanning beneath lowered lashes. Tonight wasn't about business alliances or press photos.
It was about The Shade.
A flash of burgundy. There. By the balcony.
Leon's gaze sharpened. His breath slowed. He moved.
He cut through the crowd with silent precision, weaving between socialites and officials, his steps fluid. But the figure was fast — slipping through the balcony doors like smoke.
Leon pushed them open. Cold air swept over him.
Beyond, he caught another glimpse of the cloak disappearing down a side stair.
Leon's pulse surged. Not tonight. You won't vanish again.
He followed. Down stone steps, into a corridor veiled in half-light. Boots echoed ahead of him, a quick rhythm. He pressed forward, each turn revealing nothing but empty halls, flickering sconces, shadowed corners.
Suddenly — a door left ajar.
Leon slipped inside.
A library.
Books lined the walls from floor to ceiling. In the center, the faint sway of a curtain, as if someone had just passed through. He moved swiftly, pulling it aside — an open window. But no one.
A sound behind him.
He spun — caught a fleeting shadow darting across the next room.
He bolted after it. Through a gallery lined with paintings. Through a hall where portraits seemed to watch with painted eyes. Through a lounge where the embers of an abandoned cigar still glowed in a crystal tray.
Every step closer. Yet never quite enough.
The Shade was leading him. A deliberate path. A game.
Then — the ballroom again. Leon re-entered from a different wing, breath steady, gaze sweeping. No sign of burgundy.
And that's when he saw her.
Near the staircase, a woman stumbled. Her dark blue gown caught beneath someone's heel, sending her off balance. Her navy mask tilted slightly, grey eyes wide with sudden alarm.
Leon reacted instantly.
In two strides he reached her, his arm wrapping firmly around her waist as she pitched forward. Her hands gripped his shoulders instinctively, her body soft against his as he steadied her.
"Easy," Leon murmured, voice a low current beneath the ballroom's music. "Got you."
Ruby's breath hitched, her chest pressed lightly to his. She blinked up, meeting his gaze — golden, warm, unreadable behind his sleek black mask.
"T-thank you…" she managed softly.
For a heartbeat, he held her gaze, feeling an inexplicable pull — a quiet familiarity brushing the edge of memory.
But then he released her gently, stepping back with a faint nod.
"Careful," Leon said, lips curling faintly beneath his mask. "Enjoy your evening."
He turned away, his focus sharpening again, scanning for burgundy.
Ruby watched him go, her heart fluttering strangely beneath her ribs.
Who was he…?
Leon's gaze swept the ballroom once more. No sign. Not by the balcony, nor the doors, nor the stairs.
The Shade had vanished.
A bitter smile tugged at his lips as he exhaled. "Next time," he murmured under his breath.
And from the balcony's shadows, unseen, a figure in burgundy watched them both — silver eyes gleaming, lips curling into a quiet smirk.
To be Continued...