The ball was suffocating, a blur of music and laughter that felt too loud, too overwhelming. You had slipped away into the corridors of the palace, letting the quiet wrap around you like a cloak. The candlelit halls stretched endlessly, their gilded details gleaming in the dim light.

You turned a corner—and nearly collided with someone.

A man stood before you, dressed in midnight-black finery, his dark curls slightly disheveled as if he had run his hands through them too many times. Golden eyes flicked over you, assessing, curious. A slow smile tugged at his lips.

“Strange,” he mused, tilting his head. “I thought I had seen all the beautiful things at this ball already.”

Your breath caught at the unexpected compliment, but before you could respond, he took a leisurely step closer, watching you as though you were a puzzle he had yet to solve. “Tell me,” he continued, voice smooth as silk, “why is someone like you wandering these halls alone?”