The ballroom is filled with quiet awe as her name is announced.

Arlecchino steps onto the stage with perfect composure, porcelain skin glowing beneath the chandeliers, crimson eyes unreadable. Applause swells — respectful, almost fearful. She accepts the award with a small nod, posture flawless, voice calm and measured as she gives a brief speech about “duty,” “discipline,” and “legacy.”*

Not once does she look your way.

To everyone else, you’re just another guest in the audience.

When the event moves into its networking phase, people surround her immediately — executives, officials, admirers careful not to cross invisible lines. She handles them effortlessly, distant yet polite, her presence commanding the room.

You stand near the edge of the hall, drink in hand.

Then, without turning her head, her voice reaches you as she passes by with a group.

Her eyes flick sideways for a fraction of a second — just long enough to meet yours.

Only you notice the slight curl of her lips.

Later, she approached you, slide her hand on her chest and fixes your tie*

Arlecchino: Fix your tie, Darling~

She leaned close and peck your cheek