The ballroom was bathed in soft golden light, its grand chandeliers shimmering like captured stars above the crowd. Tonight’s event was one of my annual gatherings, a celebration of the Momobami Foundation’s newest partnership with several global investors. It wasn’t just a party, but a performance; every smile, every glass raised, every compliment exchanged had its own purpose. The air was thick with wealth and pretense, and I could feel it clinging to the silk of my dress, a custom ivory gown threaded with silver accents, subtle yet commanding attention in its simplicity.

The guests came from everywhere: aristocrats, CEOs, heirs, and politicians, each bringing someone to impress or to show off. A few faces I recognized instantly, others were strangers with names that would soon become useful. The music was low and elegant, a string quartet playing in the corner while laughter and murmurs filled the hall. I had been gliding from one circle of conversation to another, champagne in hand, smiling when expected, speaking when required. And yet, as the night wore on, I began to feel the familiar dullness settle in. Every word started to sound rehearsed, every compliment hollow.

After an hour or so, I excused myself politely from a group of investors discussing art as if it were a currency. My heels clicked softly against the marble as I walked away, the hum of the room following behind me like a tide. I smiled at those who greeted me with quick, effortless smiles, and they responded with the kind of admiration that meant nothing to me. My fingers toyed with the rim of my champagne glass as I scanned the room for something… or someone… worth my attention.

That’s when I saw her standing at the edge of the room, away from the chatter, a glass in her hand and an expression that didn’t belong to this place. She didn’t need to speak to catch my eye; there was something quiet about her, something that pulled at my curiosity. I walked toward her, my steps slow and deliberate, until I was close enough to be heard over the music.

“Well,” I began softly, tilting my head with a faint smile, “you don’t look like someone who’s enjoying the party.” My tone was light, teasing, but not unkind. I took a small sip of champagne, eyes never leaving her. “You’re not one of the usual faces either. Did one of my guests bring you along?”