The echo of the Marquise Dahlia's final words still vibrated against the walls of the grand hall when Reiko decided she had had enough.
It wasn't because of the event itself.
Everything had gone perfectly, like a piece of fine clockwork in which every gear meshed without a single squeak.
The speech had been flawless, the music had come in at precisely the right moment, and the atmosphere of anticipation hanging in the air was so thick it could almost be touched.
As the organizer, Reiko should have felt a wave of relief, or at least the professional satisfaction of seeing weeks of work culminate in resounding success.
But she felt none of that.
Reiko walked along one of the side corridors, avoiding the main flow of guests who were beginning to disperse throughout the mansion.
Her steps were automatic, rhythmic; the sound of her heels striking marble was the only thing that seemed real amid that whirlwind of sensations.
She should have been tense over logistics, mentally reviewing whether the catering service was ready, whether the private rooms had enough oils and clean sheets, or whether the security staff were in position to prevent any guest from going too far.
That was her role.
She was the mind behind the chaos, the one who maintained order so the others could lose it.
And yet, her mind was elsewhere…
Or rather, on someone else.
Mara.
That name repeated in her head like an irritating mantra, interference on a radio signal that wouldn't let her hear anything else.
Ever since she had reviewed the guest list that very morning, the world had become a slightly more suffocating place.
Mara was going to be at the party.
It wasn't a surprise, technically.
She knew Alice would be coming, and where Alice went, Mara was usually close by.
But seeing it written on paper, in that elegant, definitive handwriting, had turned an abstract possibility into an imminent reality.
And that reality terrified her.
Reiko moved down a quieter corridor, where the murmur of the party began to fade, replaced by the sepulchral silence of the mansion's private wings.
The wall lamps cast elongated shadows that seemed to stretch toward her like fingers trying to grab hold.
She had tried to find her.
The entire time she had been on the platform, standing behind Dahlia, her eyes had never stopped scanning the crowd.
She wasn't looking for protocol failures—she was looking for a flash of orange hair.
She was looking for those eyes that, even at a distance, looked sharp at first glance.
She had looked at humans, elves, beast girls.
She had analyzed every group, every corner of the hall while the Marquise spoke of freedom and desire.
Nothing.
There were too many people. Too much movement. Too many expensive dresses and laughter clouding her perception.
Maybe she hasn't come down yet, Reiko thought, trying to convince herself as she climbed the stairs toward her room. Maybe she stayed in her room, overwhelmed by the scale of all this.
Reiko reached her door and paused for a moment, her hand resting on the carved wooden knob.
The cold of the metal reminded her that she was trembling slightly—not from cold, but from pure, simple anxiety.
When she entered the room and closed the door behind her, she quickly leaned her back against the wood. Silence struck her immediately, a violent contrast to the white noise of the hall.
She stayed there in the dark, listening only to her own rapid breathing.
She needed to check.
That was the truth she was trying to bury beneath layers of professionalism.
She needed to see Mara.
She needed to activate her Meticulous Scan and confirm what she feared most: that the skill list had grown.
Since the last time she had seen Mara at the inn, Reiko hadn't had a single moment of peace.
The image of that information window floating in her retina haunted her dreams. The SSS rank. The assimilation.
And above all, that damn censorship—those symbols mocking her analytical ability, hiding the condition necessary for Mara to become, quite possibly, the most dangerous being on the continent.
Has she copied something new in these past weeks? she wondered, walking toward the window.
The very idea that Mara could be assimilating S- or A-rank skills without anyone noticing, simply by being near the right people, made her stomach churn.
It was like watching a forest fire without water to put it out—only able to watch as the flames consumed everything in their path.
Reiko kicked off her shoes and let them fall carelessly onto the floor.
She sat on the edge of the bed, rubbing her temples as a headache began to form, a constant pressure behind her eyes.
Relax, Reiko… She's just a girl. A girl with a broken ability, but a girl nonetheless.
She tried to think about wine supplies. About whether the garden's magical lamps would last all night.
About any mundane detail that could anchor her to her reality as the Marquise's assistant.
It was useless.
Her mind always returned to the same point of origin.
Mara was somewhere in that mansion. She could be in the main hall right now. She could be in one of the lounges, or in the gardens.
She could be only a few meters away, separated by a couple of walls and some marble.
I didn't find her in the crowd, she repeated to herself, as if that were a victory. If I didn't see her, nothing is happening. If I didn't see her, I can rest.
But it was a kind lie.
Reiko knew she wouldn't rest.
She knew that as soon as she caught her breath, she would go back down—not because Dahlia asked her to, nor because the event needed her, but because she couldn't stand the uncertainty.
Because she preferred facing the terror of seeing a new skill on that list rather than staying there, in the silence of her room, imagining what Mara might be doing.
Reiko lay back on the bed, staring at the ceiling in the dim light. Far away, very faintly, she could hear the rhythmic pulse of the party's music.
Just a quick check, she promised herself, closing her eyes. Just see if anything has changed. Then I'll go to sleep.
She knew she was lying to herself.
But at that moment, it was the only way not to have a panic attack right there.