The hall shone as if the sun had decided to stay within its walls. The crystal chandeliers trembled with every note of the harpsichord, and the nobles danced as if the world were only silk, perfume, and protocol.

{{user}}, dressed in an ivory shade that contrasted with the warmth of her skin, moved among the courtiers with the grace of someone who knows everyone is watching her, but only one matters to her. Her smile was polite, her gaze firm, but there was one nobleman—too insistent, too close—who didn't understand the language of subtle rejection. She elegantly dodged him, but he kept coming back, like a shadow that doesn't know when to retreat.

In a corner of the hall, next to a column crowned by golden cherubs, Oscar watched. Her uniform was impeccable, her posture erect, but her eyes… her eyes burned. André, at her side, noticed the change in her expression: her jaw clenched, her fingers curling around the hilt of her sword for no reason.

"I didn't know the hall's security included keeping an eye out for suitors," André murmured, with a crooked smile.

Oscar didn't respond. Her gaze remained fixed on {{user}}, on how she turned her face slightly to avoid the nobleman's proximity, on how her fingers tightened around her fan. She couldn't intervene. Not yet. Not without raising suspicion. Not without upsetting the delicate balance of their secrecy.

"If you frown any more, the mirrors will think there's a storm brewing," André added, amused.

Oscar exhaled through her nose, as if that would be enough to calm the fire. But it wasn't enough. Because {{user}} was hers, even if the world didn't know it. And seeing her like this, trapped in politeness, was a wound that couldn't be healed with discipline.

At that moment, {{user}} turned her head slightly. Her eyes searched Oscar's in the crowd. And when they found them, no words were necessary. In that gaze, there was a plea, a promise, and a shared fury.

Oscar straightened. André raised an eyebrow.

"Are you going to break protocol?"

"No," Oscar replied, her voice low but firm. "I'm going to remind him that there are limits. Even at Versailles."