The glasses were almost empty.
The words came more freely, the smiles longer, and the world began to feel… slower and more fun.
Luna swirled the last drop of feminine beer as if analyzing a universal secret.
"Guys…" said Victória, with slightly shining eyes. "…we are way too amazing to stay seated."
Nikoly pointed with the empty glass. "I agree. We are on the wrong floor for this level of alcoholic beauty."
Lumine was already standing, fixing her hair with the care of someone who knew the mirror's reflection would always praise her.
"Second floor. The dance floor. They say it's where the children of aristocracy lose composure and dignity — sometimes at the same time."
Luna stood up with a slight controlled imbalance, like a drunk feline in twelve-centimeter heels. "Let's see if this club is worthy of our footprints."
The elevator was an experience itself: mirrors on all sides, soft lighting, and background music that sounded like electronic flirting.
The four were silent.
The "ding" on the second floor was like a divine gong.
The doors opened.
Explosion of colored lights. Pulsating bass. Bodies dancing in perfect (or imperfect) harmony. Digital chandeliers floated on the ceiling like constellations in ecstasy. Screens showed real-time scenes from the floor — with filters that made even the clumsy look like pop stars.
Noble men and women, rich, young, some famous heirs, others just mysterious.
Tight suits, tight dresses, perfumes costing more than apartments.
But everything stopped for half a second when the four women entered.
The DJ dropped a more intense loop without even noticing.
The lights tilted, involuntarily, toward them.
Victória in a metallic wine dress, violet hair moving like party smoke. Smile of a spoiled and dangerous girl.
Nikoly with an asymmetrical black cut, leather boots and eyes that seemed to scan everything in real time.
Lumine wore royal blue organza, an ethereal silhouette, an aura of a princess who could order someone's execution with a snap of her fingers.
As soon as they stepped onto the floor, the stares began.
Groups of boys adjusted their ties. Others approached like going to an altar.
But…
They were ignored.
The four looked at each other, laughed with complicity and began to dance together — with no one else mattering.
Fluid, perfect movements. Bodies molding to the electronic beat, hands in the air, free smiles.
Luna tossed her hair back with a spin that drew a collective sigh from the male audience.
Victória climbed a side step and danced with her hands in the air, looking at the ceiling as if invoking sensual thunder.
Nikoly maintained precise, elegant movements, even with alcohol, she danced like a warrior who had just conquered an empire.
Lumine just floated, always seeming a second lighter than the air.
They danced with each other. For freedom. For the night. For the very existence of being incredible.
The men, rejected with class and indifference, tried to disguise it.
Some went back to their groups.
Others… stayed there, just watching, hypnotized.
One even whispered. "Who are they…?"
And the friend replied. "The owners of the party."
Luna, sweating lightly, smiled with closed eyes. The music's beat pulsed inside her chest.
She opened her eyes. Looked at her friends. All laughing, dancing, living.
"That's it." she thought. "I am the moment."
Elsewhere in the venue, from the top of the VIP balcony, with a discreet drink in hand and a look as calm as it was dangerous, a man watched.
His real name was kept under seven locks. His face? Too handsome to be ignored, but with an expression always moderate, like someone who had learned early not to show what he thinks.
He dressed well, but not conspicuously. The suit was dark blue, without logos, but impeccably tailored. White gold watch on the wrist. No ostentation. And yet… he radiated something. Presence. Weight. Lineage.
But at that moment, all of that disappeared, because he only had eyes for one woman.
Down below, amid strobe lights and deafening electronic beats, she danced as if the world had vanished.
It was Luna. Hair loose, spinning in the air. Disordered steps, but so naturally graceful they bordered on a spell. And the smile... half drunk, half victorious, like someone too happy to care about any dynasty's opinion.
The man tilted his head. "She is dancing to be free."
And that… intrigued him more than any princess trained in fourteen languages and three types of reverence.
He decided.
He left the glass on a tray. Went down the stairs calmly, dodging curious glances. Passed through the crowd as if bodies instinctively parted.
Until he stopped in front of her.
Luna spun with the sound, laughing alone, when she felt something.
A warmth. A presence.
She turned… and came face to face with him.
A tall, handsome man, dark eyes with golden sparks. Posture of someone who had sat on thrones... but now only wanted to be there, with her.
She blinked.
"Hi…?" she said, with a crooked smile, like someone doubting her own luck or her own alcoholic sanity.
He smiled, and there was humor, but also a serene firmness. "Would you like to dance with me?"
Luna hesitated for a second.
The lights flickered in slow motion.
Victória, Nikoly, and Lumine were behind, standing, watching the scene as if it were the finale of an international fashion show.
The three smiled like she-wolves.
Victória made a heart with her hands. Nikoly bit the straw. Lumine simply nodded, as if saying: "Enjoy your crown."
Luna rolled her eyes, laughing, embarrassed.
But then looked again at the man in front of her… and accepted. "Okay… but I warn you, I'm a little out of rhythm."
"Great," he replied. "I hate choreographies too."
The music rose. And they moved closer.
The man held Luna's waist with the delicacy of someone who knows the power he carries — and respects the woman in front of him.
Luna, in turn, let herself be enveloped. She still felt the alcohol, but now… there was something else. Adrenaline. Sparks. Magnetism.
The bodies moved closer. Then apart. And spun again, with her dress opening like a whirlwind.
She looked at him and, for a moment, forgot the club, the friends, the world.
Only him. Only her.
Only the sound pulsing between them.
From the corner, the three friends applauded silently, like fans of an unlikely couple who knew it would produce epic chapters.
Victória laughed. "If this man survives dancing with Luna, he can already apply for citizenship on her planet."
Nikoly observed as if analyzing the man's microexpressions. "He's not just handsome. He has body control. Elegance. Probably real nobility. But… different."
Luna, still immersed in the dance, smiled with closed eyes.
And thought. "Okay… this one… is not an idiot. And he dances well."
She opened her eyes.
He looked at her, still smiling.
"Hmm. This could be a problem."
The Prince, who until then seemed impassive, was now clearly curious.
She danced as if she owed nothing to anyone. And the look… that look... Was not common.
He leaned slightly, close to her ear — over the sound. "What is your name…?"
Luna just smiled. A lazy, enigmatic, and slightly drunk smile. She kept her eyes on his, bit her lip… and said nothing.
The Prince raised an eyebrow. He was used to being answered — with reverence, anxiety, or ambition. But there… There he was just another handsome man trying to conquer a drunken goddess.
"Not even a hint?" he tried again, laughing lightly.
Luna approached with a mischievous look, as if about to tell a secret…
…and then whispered. "You like mysteries, nameless prince?"
He froze for half a second. It wasn't a confirmation that she knew who he was. But it wasn't just any question either.
"She knows… or is bluffing."
Before he could say anything, Luna stepped back, spinning, laughing with eyes half-closed by alcohol and fun.
Then he tried another angle. "Want… to go somewhere quieter? Talk better?"
Luna stopped spinning. Turned slowly to him, raising an eyebrow. "Like… a hotel room?"
The Prince almost choked. "N-no! Not like that!"
He coughed discreetly, trying to regain the air of his own dignity. "I mean… another environment. Maybe a private lounge. Less noise."
Luna burst into laughter. A clear, somewhat uncoordinated laugh, which drew looks from other groups around.
She took two steps toward him, rested her hands on the Prince's shoulders as if balancing the world and said, still smiling. "Relax, majesty. I'm just kidding."
And winked. "Maybe."
The Prince let out a breath of relief mixed with embarrassment.
But there was something new in his eyes now: Admiration. Genuine.
And before he answered, Luna turned again to the floor, tossing her hair with alcoholic grace and dancing again as if nothing had happened.
The Prince stood still for a moment. Watching.
Then took a step and followed her — now silently. No more questions.
Just dancing with that mysterious, drunken, and absolutely uncontrollable woman.
And in his peripheral vision, Luna saw the subtle alert in the corner of the Tycoon System holograph.
Attention: Interaction with disguised member of royalty. Hidden rewards available upon deepening of bond.
Luna thought mentally. "Let him sweat a little more."
And smiled again.
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