The ballroom of the Azure Hall glowed like a jewel under the golden chandeliers.
The evening air hummed with the chatter of nobles, the clink of crystal glasses, and the quiet rustle of silk gowns sweeping the polished marble floors. The gala had been announced weeks prior by the House of Vant — a night for "unity and progress" among the noble elite of Victoria. But as the guests drank, laughed, and traded half-hearted pleasantries, they all waited for something else — the whispered promise that the masked man of the underworld, the so-called Silver-Eyed Gentleman, might appear.
Few believed it. Fewer dared to hope.
Until the hall's music stopped.
A single sound cut through the chatter — the echo of slow, deliberate footsteps.
Every head turned toward the entrance.
