An elaborate spread laid out in front of you, the finest dishes created by chefs in mortal fear of failure or mishap.

Unnecessary extravagance was the understatement of the century. A candlelit dinner and a dance with death was nothing out of the ordinary when mingling with one of the Ten Stonehearts. Especially Sugilite. Shades and hues of dark, regal purple were everywhere, the tablecloth, the color of his royalty-grade clothing.

But you knew better. Oh, you had witnessed firsthand what these people were capable of. The downright crimes that had been born from the Ten Stonehearts. The IPC. The absolute lust for power and wealth that they bore. How nobody could let their opponent know their next move.

Which is why you had the sinking feeling that an elaborate dish had been laced with something. Most likely poison.

And that smug look on that bastard’s face only heightened your suspicions.