By the time I sat down in the quiet hall, the world felt too still. It was as if it were holding its breath with me. Silk brushed against my skin every time I shifted. My dress hugged me like a secret I wasn't sure I was ready to reveal. Loose curls framed my face. They looked soft enough to make me appear put together but dangerous enough to make me feel different. Changed.
The slow jazz music filled the room, but my pulse didn't match it. Mine was faster. Restless. Uneasy.
Then the faint sound of footsteps echoed through the hallway. They were controlled, unhurried, and confident. My gaze fell on him.
Sylus stepped into the room like he owned the air. His tuxedo fit him perfectly. The dark fabric was tailored like a second skin. His broad shoulders, a sharp jaw, and hair styled with just enough recklessness to remind me he wasn't a gentleman. Those pair of dark orbs meet mine across the room.
He was like something far more dangerous. His gaze swept over me, slow and deliberate. It was as though he was memorizing every inch and deciding whether the world deserved to see me like this.
When he finally reached me, he didn't speak at first. He simply lifted my hand. His fingers were warm and steady, claiming more than they touched.
When his voice came, calm and composed
"Shall we go?"
I nodded because words felt small and breakable. He smiled, barely, as if he knew exactly what I was thinking. His pace matched mine as we both finally reached the car.
Once we were inside, silence wrapped around us again. It wasn't awkward.. It was just tension simmering to my bones.
His hand rested casually on the steering wheel, knuckles flexing now and then as if he was holding back something—a thought, a feeling, a truth I wasn't ready for.
I stared out the window, pretending the city lights were the reason my heart raced. But deep down, something felt off that I couldn't get my mind around, soft music filling the car, as I scrolled on my phone trying to distract myself, but I could feel his gaze fall on me when he thought I didn't notice.
But there I was, unable to get my mind off what happened in the dressing room,
"Favourite wine? And just as intoxicating? What did he mean?
I looked up, trying to find my answers. Who was he? What do I even know about him.... I questioned myself as I looked at him, the answer was barely anything....
When the car finally slowed, I blinked, my breath catching. In front of a breathtaking architect, we finally arrived... He got out and walked over, opening the door for me as he extended his hand. He was a mystery....
The car door shut gently behind me, and suddenly the world felt quieter. Sharper. It was as if every sound was wrapped in velvet and expectation.
Sylus stood beside me, holding a mask in one hand. It was black and sleek, with subtle silver detailing that looked almost dangerous. It seemed meant for someone who didn't blend in, someone who commanded attention without saying a word.
He offered it to me, and I raised an eyebrow.
"A masquerade mask?" I asked, half amused and half unsettled.
His lips curved, but it wasn't a smile. It was something darker, prouder, and possessive. "Yes."
Before I could reply, he stepped closer, his fingers brushing my jaw as he tied the ribbon behind my head. His touch was careful but firm, as if he already knew my skin and felt entitled to it.
His breath brushed against my cheek as he secured the mask in place.
"Perfect," he murmured, almost to himself.
Then, without asking, his arm slid forward, offering itself.
I took it, my arm locked with his, and we moved forward together.
The entrance opened like the mouth of some gilded fairytale beast. Chandelier light spilled across the marble floor, while gold threaded across the ceiling in patterns that made my eyes ache with the need to stare. Tall arched windows framed the night sky, with city lights sparkling like a second chandelier beyond the glass.
It felt surreal, like stepping into another life one I was never meant to see the moment made me forget all the thinking running through my mind.
Heads turned. Some whispered. Some stared openly, as if trying to place me, judge me, or claim something from the sight of me beside him.
Every click of my heels echoed sharply, announcing me like something rare on display.
My pulse quickened—not from fear or discomfort—but from awareness. Of the dress. The mask. The way the room shifted around us. Sylus wasn't just attending, he was expected, watched, and calculated.
And I was beside him. I swallowed and leaned slightly closer, speaking in a low voice.
"Everyone's staring." Sylus didn't slow down. "They're curious," he replied, his tone smooth like cold glass. "They've never seen you before."
I huffed softly. "And that's… bad?" "No." He glanced at me, just a little, but enough to feel the intensity.
"It's dangerous." Chills ran through my body as I felt his gaze in that mask, very familiar.
"Dangerous for who?" His jaw tightened just a bit.
"For anyone who thinks they can approach you."
My steps faltered for a moment, but his grip on my hand strengthened, steadying me as if he sensed it coming.
My heart raced against my ribs. Then music swelled, with long violins and soft percussion filling the air like silk, and the world opened into a ballroom carved from fantasy.
Sylus leaned close enough so only I could hear. "Stay with me." He walked beside me as if he owned gravity. His dark suit was perfectly tailored, and the mask obscured part of his face, making him even more dangerous. Our arms were linked, his hand resting against the inside of my elbow as if I were something precious, fragile, breakable.
But his touch felt like possession, not protection. A few heads turned. Some were curious, others were assessing, and a few were bold enough to stare. Whispers followed like a trailing perfume.
"Who is she?"
"Morano brought someone?"
"He never brings dates…"
My throat tightened. The air grew heavier. But Sylus didn't flinch. If anything, his arm tightened around mine, subtle but unmistakable.
We stopped near the center of the ballroom just as the host walked toward the podium. He was an elegant man dressed in silver and black.
His voice echoed through the room.
"Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the annual Masquerade Gala. Tonight, we celebrate legacy, power, and unity."
Applause rippled around us. I exhaled slowly. My mask felt warm against my skin, and my nerves danced like sparks in my veins. Sylus leaned down slightly, his voice gliding against my ear — low, teasing, intimate enough to melt bone.
"Breathe, sweetheart." I swallowed.
"I am breathing." His smirk brushed against his cheek. "Barely."
The lights dimmed. Soft amber light filled the ballroom with a warm glow as the orchestra shifted into a slow, haunting waltz.
The host continued.
"Tradition remains. The first dance begins with your chosen partner."
Sylus turned to face me, mask and all, and extended his hand, palm open, posture regal and demanding all at once.
"Honor me with this first dance."
My fingers slid into his, unsure and trembling. He noticed, of course. His thumb brushed my knuckles, easing the invisible tension.
"It's just a dance," I whispered, trying to steady myself.
His dark gaze locked onto mine, intense enough to steal my breath.
"No, cara mia.- It's Our first dance.'"
" It's not just a dance to me."
His hand rested at the small of my back, guiding me into place as the orchestra swelled. The world blurred; chandeliers softened, the crowd faded, and suddenly it was just us.
Sylus moved with ease, graceful and commanding. Every step was intentional. I felt his warmth long before his body brushed close.
He lifted my hand, his fingers weaving through mine as if he'd done it a thousand times.
"Relax," he murmured.
I forced a breath. The moment I did, he pulled me closer, closing the distance until the air between us felt charged, electric.
My pulse stumbled.
His thumb stroked the inside of my wrist, lazy and slow.
"Tell me something, Ella…" His voice was silk wrapped around a storm. "Don't you feel this tension between us?"
I swallowed. "Sylus—"
He didn't let me finish. With a smooth spin, he turned me. My dress flared, and my breath caught. Suddenly, I was back in his arms, even closer than before. Our chests brushed. The heat of him seeped into my bones.
His lips hovered near my ear, not touching, just close enough to ruin me.
"I didn't know before…" A soft exhale ghosted against my skin. "What love is… or what it could do to a man."
The music swayed, and we moved with it; our bodies fit perfectly together, like a secret finally matched to its key.
"But now?" he whispered. My fingers curled into his shoulder, grounding myself or maybe anchoring to him.
"Now I'm starting to understand."
His eyes stared into mine, but all I could feel was the proximity, like deja vu, a touch so subtle yet intimate enough to spark every nerve to life.
"How can anyone not fall in love with you, Ella?" His words hit me like heat, slow and overwhelming.
I dared to meet his eyes. Dark, intense, bare. No mask could hide that. His forehead rested against mine as our breaths mingled in one shared inhale.
"You walk into a room…" he murmured, voice low, reverent, and a little broken. "And the world stops."
The music slowed, fading into a softer melody, but neither of us moved. His hand slid from my back to tilt my chin upward, holding me still and claiming my attention completely.
"So tell me," he rasped, his gaze locked onto my lips.
"Am I the only one who feels it… or are you just afraid to admit you feel it too?"
Before I could answer him, there was a partner switch. Bodies shifted. Hands parted. I tried to find Sylus's eyes again, but the swirl swallowed him.
A new hand took mine. That's when something hit the scent.
Cologne, I recognized.
Too familiar. Too impossible. I looked up, trying to study the face behind the mask. Dark brown hair, those eyes— Black, deep, unreadable.
Suddenly, a loud Bang echoed through the hall, cutting sharply through the music as I looked around. A gunshot sliced through the ballroom like lightning, tearing the sky.
The man in front of me jerked forward. His body snapped like a marionette with cut strings.
Blood splattered.
Warm.Wet.Across my cheek. My lips. My hands trembling, I touched the blood spattered on my face, trying to register that this was all a dream.
"Blood?" my lips trembled, heart beating fast, A cold tremor crawled down my spine.
Chaos unfolded around me like wildfire. People shoved past me. Chairs scraped. Heels broke. Glass hit the floor.
Silk gowns rustled, startled. Champagne flutes slipped from trembling hands. Gasps turned into screams. Chairs scraped. People shoved, stumbled, and ran. The chandeliers shook above, their light flickering like candles fighting against wind.
But everything moved around me, not with me.
I stood still.
Frozen. A spreading pool of red followed—thick, vibrant, warm—crawling across marble
My breath hitched.
I staggered backward, my knees gave out, and I slumped to the floor, my dress unfolding around me, deep red silk blending into the darkening stain as it belonged there.
My heartbeat was too loud and unsteady. My hand lifted before I could stop it.
Fingers hovered… then descended… pressing into the blood. It coated my skin, slipping between my fingers, soaking into the lines of my palm. The metallic scent iron, the air sharper than perfume or fear.
My breath shuddered out of me.
Not horror.
Not disgust.
Recognition.
The ballroom blurred in my peripheral vision as the figures scattered, voices clashing in panic, someone shouting for help. But all of it felt distant, muffled, irrelevant. Because right here, in this blood-soaked stillness, my mind cracked open and memory poured through.
My vision was hazy a flashback swallowed by a memory I thought I'd buried, another night where red painted my hands just like this. The lifeless body was lying in front of me, voices screaming in my head.
"SHE DID IT!"
" SHE IS A MONSTER"
I swore it didn't.
"How many bodies until you accept it?" "Monster."
It felt like the past came back to life. The smile on my lips trembled as my fingers dragged slowly through the blood, tracing meaningless shapes, feeling the warmth fade second by second.
I lifted my hand higher, watching the crimson drip down my wrist, trailing toward my elbow. The chandelier light hit the smear, making it glisten dark, almost like ink carved from fate itself.
Around me, someone sobbed. Someone else yelled:
"Get her away from him—!"
But their voices barely reached me. As laughter echoed in my room, I covered my mouth with my hands as blood smeared on my jaw and lips,
" I-i didn't do it." I was chanting those words like a prayer,
"I DIDN'T DO IT!"
I shouted as the voice echoed in the empty ballroom, and my laughter echoed as I looked up at the glowing moon, which was visible through the window.
Sylus POV~
I rushed the moment I heard the commotion. Glass shattered, screams pierced the music, and chaos erupted like a fault line exploding. I had stepped away for only seconds, and somehow the doors were locked from the outside. My heart raced, and my breath became uneven.
Where was she?
I slammed my fists into the wood. All I could feel was dread crawling under my skin, whispering every worst possibility. I started to hit the door with full body weight and force, and after 3rd try, I finally broke through, pushing the ruined door aside as I sprinted down the hallway toward the ballroom.
Then I heard a sound coming from the parted door of the ballroom a
Laughter.
A violent chill shot through me because I recognized that laugh.
It wasn't the one she gave when she was amused. No. It was darker. The shade of her. A side of her I'd never been allowed to witness. She sat bathed in moonlight, the glow turning her into something haunting. Her earrings glimmered like stars against blood and chaos.
"Ella?"
The moment I stepped into the ballroom, my chest tightened. I've ended men without blinking, walked through carnage without feeling… yet one look at her, drenched in blood, yet this sight crawled beneath my skin like frostbite.
That scene was uneasy even to a Merciless Mafia like me. She wasn't crying. She wasn't running. She sat in the middle of the chaos—calm, too calm in a pool of fresh blood. The crimson soaked her dress, stained her hands, and streaked her cheeks as if someone had dragged a paintbrush across her skin. Her mask lay beside her like a fallen part, glass shattered and bloodied.
Her eyes lifted and locked onto mine. Empty. Distant. Not here.
"I didn't do it…" she whispered, her voice thin and mechanical, repeating as if stuck in her own head. My steps faltered for just a second, then I ran to her, my shoes sinking in the blood as I dropped to my knees.
"Ella!" I pulled her against me, not caring that the blood smeared across my suit. "Look at me," Hey—look at me."
She blinked once. Slow. Detached.
"I didn't do it… I didn't—I didn't—" "I know," I said, my voice low and urgent, trying to anchor her. "I know you didn't."
Her fingers twitched, brushing my wrist and leaving red fingerprints on my skin. Then she laughed—soft at first, then oddly delighted.
My chest tightened.
"Ella?" I cupped her face, trying to wipe the streaks away, but only spreading the blood further. "Come back to me. Focus. Breathe."
Nothing. Just those dark, lost eyes. Her knees wobbled when I lifted her to her feet, her weight collapsing against me. Her body trembled, her breath shallow, and her eyes darted as if she was still trapped in some memory that had swallowed her.
Her gaze met mine, heavy-lidded as if she would be gone any moment. Suddenly, there was a sharp sound cutting the silence and bustle from outside the ball, another gunshot.