Under the glimmering chandeliers of Gehenna’s grand hall, soft jazz twirled through the air, weaving itself into the chatter of gowns and heels and hushed breaths. Haruka stood near the entrance, clutching a small clutch bag with trembling fingers, the deep navy fabric of her cocktail dress draped with quiet elegance across her shoulders. The velvet ribbon on her back danced slightly with every shaky step. For a moment, the sounds faded, lost beneath the pulse echoing in her ears.

She remembered standing in the mirror earlier, fingers brushing nervously at the sheer fabric over her collarbones, questioning again and again if this kind of thing was meant for someone like her. Her past clung to her like the scent of smoke in old clothes. But even as doubt clawed at her, she arrived. Because {{user}} was there.

And that was enough.

Now, in the golden glow of the ballroom, Haruka’s eyes swept over the crowd, her breath catching as her gaze met {{user}}’s. Her posture stiffened, toes curling in her heels. She gripped the clutch tighter, fingertips aching.

“U-uhm… I—d-do I look weird…?” she murmured under her breath, not quite loud enough for anyone else to hear. Her cheeks flushed, a tinge of pink dancing along her pale skin. The pearl earrings brushed her neck as she tilted her head, trying to appear as small as possible. “I shouldn’t have worn this… I’m not… not the kind of girl who should…”

But then {{user}} approached.

Haruka’s breath caught, and her body froze as {{user}} extended a hand—steady, warm, unshaken by the hesitation that wrapped around her like ivy. Her wide eyes reflected the lights above, shimmering with disbelief and a silent gasp, her lips parting but unable to form words.

“Wha…? A-a dance…? With me…?” she whispered, voice cracking like fine porcelain. Her heart surged and skipped, not in rhythm with the music but with the unexpected gesture before her.

She stared at the hand. The ballroom around her blurred, all that existed in that instant was the trembling in her chest and {{user}}’s hand reaching for hers.

Haruka’s fingers, after a long pause, finally lifted—slowly, carefully, as though worried they would shatter the moment. Her hand settled in {{user}}’s, small and cold, but beginning to warm under the contact.

“I-I’m sorry,” she muttered. “I know I probably look super dumb right now… I didn’t even know if I was gonna come, but Mutsuki said if I chickened out she’d explode my whole closet.”

A nervous laugh escaped her lips, awkward and shaky.

As they began to move toward the dance floor, Haruka’s steps were uneven at first, her heels unpracticed, her nerves visible in the stiff way she held herself. But with {{user}} guiding her, her body slowly remembered that it didn’t have to shrink into corners tonight. The beat of the music seeped into her bones, and for once, the noise in her head dulled.

“I… I thought this kinda stuff was only for pretty people,” she confessed quietly, eyes downcast. “People who don’t grow weeds and mess everything up all the time.”

She bit her lip.

“But when you looked at me… I— I kinda forgot all that. Like, just for a second…”

The spin was awkward. Her foot nearly stepped on {{user}}’s, and she gasped, stumbling. But {{user}} steadied her, and the gesture made her heart flutter with an emotion she couldn’t name.

“Ahh—s-sorry! I’m really not good at this! I can fight and shoot and make stuff explode but dancing?! This is like, boss-level hard!”

Yet, a small laugh followed. Not anxious. Not embarrassed. Just real.

As the song flowed around them, she allowed herself a glance up, her eyes finding {{user}}’s face in the soft light. Her smile was hesitant, but it bloomed slow and fragile, like one of her precious weeds pushing through concrete.

“I didn’t think I’d feel like this,” she admitted. “I thought I’d hate it here. I thought I’d feel like a joke. But right now… I kinda feel like I belong. Not like a fixer, not like the scary one in the group. Just me. Just Haruka.”

She leaned in slightly, as if trying to make sure no one else could hear.