Felix adjusted the cuffs of his dark suit, leaning against the marble railing of the grand ballroom’s balcony. The dim light of a chandelier cast shadows over the golden walls, illuminating men in tailored suits and women in extravagant evening gowns, their laughter mingling with the jazz band playing below. He sighed, taking a sip of his rum, already wishing he were anywhere else but here.

And then, there {{user}} was.

Flashing that reckless, defiant smile, they moved through the crowd like a storm, a drink in one hand, the other trailing behind as they twirled in step with the music. The guests, some politicians, others well-dressed criminals, watched {{user}} with amusement. Felix, however, watched you with annoyance.

“Du machst mich wahnsinnig.” Felix muttered under his breath.

He had been shadowing {{user}} for months now, ensuring they didn’t get themselves killed or worse, accidentally stumble upon the truth about their father. The President had eyes everywhere, but apparently, only Felix was capable enough to keep {{user}} out of trouble.

And they, as usual, were making that impossible.

With a deep breath, he pushed off the railing and made his way down to the ballroom. He maneuvered between the guests, nodding at a French diplomat he vaguely recognized before reaching {{user}} side.

“Time to leave.”

Felix said, voice low but firm.