"Velvet Masks and Crimson Threads

(Ball Dance)

7 PM | The Ballroom of Le Grande

Portia's P.O.V.

I arrived at the party exactly at 7 p.m., dressed in a white 18th-century ballgown to match the vintage Victorian motif. My hair was swept into an elegant updo, adorned with delicate pearls and gold pins. Around my neck, I wore a pearl and ruby necklace—my mother's, a piece filled with meaning. My feet were laced in white, pearl-studded stilettos, and a chic lace bracelet completed the look. A red mask, to match my necklace, concealed half my face.

This annual gathering, often called the "Matchmaking Party" or the "Get to Know You Ball," is held for every guest of the hotel. The moment I stepped inside, it felt like I'd entered a dream. From the escorts to the guests, every detail screamed luxury. The ballroom shimmered with a magical glow, like a scene lifted from a fairytale.

Soothing classical music played softly in the background. A woman in her forties gracefully descended the grand staircase, her voice commanding attention.

"To all guests of Le Grande Hotel, welcome to the 67th Annual Royal Ballgown Party. Thank you to all the sponsors who made this night possible. May you find love by the evening's end. Once again, welcome, and good evening," she said warmly.

As she stepped away, the instruments swelled, and guests began to mingle. I stood by myself, unsure how to start a conversation. Everyone seemed so refined—so intimidating. I wandered around, feeling a little lost. When the dinner bell rang, I still hadn't spoken to anyone.

I gathered some food and found a small table by the window, setting my plate down quietly. The room was now buzzing with conversation and laughter. Most people had already paired off.

Then, a calm voice interrupted my thoughts.

"May I sit with you?"

I looked up. A man in a white, pearl-studded mask stood before me. His ocean-green eyes were soft and serene. His voice was deep, with an impulsive edge, and he carried a musky scent that somehow put me at ease.

"Sure. I'm all alone," I replied with a shy smile.

"The name's Jacen," he said, taking the seat across from me.

"You ruined the guessing part," I teased lightly, and he chuckled.

"It's fine. I'm still hidden behind this mask, after all," he replied, flashing a warm smile.

"Portia," I offered, giving him my name in return.

"Nice name," he said, pouring himself some wine. "Oh—I forgot the handshake part," he added with a grin.

"It's fine. I don't mind skipping the formalities."

"Me neither. I actually prefer informal talks to all these old customs," he said, laughing again.

We shared food and laughter. He was easy to talk to, the kind of person who made silence feel comfortable. Then, the lights dimmed and transformed into colorful beams bouncing around the room.

"The dance has begun," Jacen informed me, rising to his feet. "Shall we dance, Portia?"

He offered his hand, and I took it.

We stepped onto the dance floor just as the classic music resumed.

"This round will last twenty-five minutes," he explained. "Dancers will rotate to the left after the first turn, then to the right at the second. After that, we scatter again. I'll leave you my number—just in case we don't run into each other later."

He slipped a card into my hand.

"Let's talk sometime," he added.

"Thank you, Jacen. It was a pleasure meeting you."

"Don't be shy, okay? I hope you get the main dance," he said before passing me to the next dancer.

He had blond hair styled in an apple-cut and looked even more nervous than I felt.

"H-hello. Hope you're having a nice evening," he stammered.

"Hi. I am, thank you. How about you?"

"I'm doing good. What's your name?"

"Portia. Yours?"

"Aleksei."

"Nice to meet you, Aleksei," I said, smiling at him. His thin lips curved into a gentle smile.

We danced a few minutes before the next turn.

"See you around, Portia," he whispered as he passed me to the next partner.

"Oh! Hi! I'm Conrad," the next man said immediately.

I giggled at his blunt introduction. "Portia. Nice to meet you."

"Feel comfortable, okay?"

I nodded. We talked while dancing, his relaxed energy helping ease my nerves. The music slowed again. Another hand reached for mine.

This dancer was tall and undeniably striking. His blond hair was swept into an undercut, and his icy blue eyes locked onto mine with quiet intensity. There was something familiar about him, though I couldn't quite place it.

"I'm Erin Kaito," he said with cool formality.

"Portia Zira," I replied, my voice unsteady. "It's a pleasure to dance with you tonight."

A faint smirk curved his lips. As a new melody played, his hand settled at my waist. We danced without words, unwilling to break the spell between us. He was like a prince out of a dream—graceful, poised, and mysterious.

When the music ended, he leaned in and whispered, "Until next time, my lady."

He led me to the front just as the lights began to flicker again, sweeping across the dancers like stars searching for a stage.

The spotlight landed on a man in a black tuxedo, a black diamond-studded mask covering his face, and a rose pinned to his chest. Then it stopped—on me.

My heart raced as we stepped toward each other. He was majestic, his black cape flowing with every move. His sea-grey eyes pierced through me, sharp and unreadable, tinged with something sad.

He wasn't quite as tall as Erin, but tall enough that I stood just under his chin. My breath caught as we began to dance.

From the moment we moved, the world melted away. Only we remained, locked in this spell. Rose petals fell from above, showering the dancefloor in crimson beauty.

Our eyes refused to part. We were prisoners in a silent war, trapped in a gaze neither of us dared to break. My heart pounded wildly.

Who are you, to brand me with your gaze like a bloodstain, when we've only just met?

"Hey, brat," he said, dragging me back to reality with a rough whisper.

"Hmm?" I answered softly, like a kitten caught in the sun.

"Levi's the name," he said, no explanation, no flourish—just Levi.

"Portia," I whispered.

"I thought I'd have to rip your tongue out to get you to speak," he added, his tone vulgar, but laced with mischief.

My heart thudded faster. His eyes never left mine.

We danced like royalty—fluid, flawless. Around us, the crowd watched in awe.

A clink of glass echoed across the ballroom.

I turned slightly to look at the audience. He grunted.

"Hey, lady. Looks like those pigs want us to kiss."

I was about to speak when he acted first.

He kissed me.

Boldly. Shamelessly.

His lips crashed against mine with sinful intent, his tongue claiming entrance without apology. It was my first kiss—unexpected, raw, unforgettable. He devoured it, and me along with it. And now I know… I'll crave it forever. That kiss would become my addiction.

He pulled away with a smirk too perfect for his wicked face.

"I want to meet you again," he whispered into my ear, sliding a card into my glove.

I stood frozen, heart pounding, breath gone, soul scattered.

We took a bow. My body moved, but I wasn't there. Levi Everett had taken my soul… and chained my heart.

That was the day I met him.

Levi Everett.

The man who made nightmares beautiful…

And turned every dream into something wild.