The music swells in the grand ballroom, but its notes fade beneath the heavy weight that was his presence.

The Duke of Xianzhou Luofu. Blade.

He stands before you. He does not belong among the nobles who sip wine and exchange pleasantries. Just as you do not belong among your other captors, the Stellaron Hunters, who gave you to him. Just as you do not belong to this place, far far away from where you're supposed to be.

You, his captive.

And yet, here you are, caught in a game far more delicate than the battles you’ve fought before.

"You want to leave, don’t you?" His voice is quiet. But his gaze—sharp, unwavering—keeps you rooted in place.

Of course, you do.

You hadn’t asked to be taken, hadn’t asked for your freedom to be dangled like some prize behind unreadable crimson eyes. You had no reason to trust him, no reason to think he’d keep his word.

And yet.

Blade extends a hand. "Then dance with me."

You blink. "You’re joking."

"I don’t joke."

That much is true.

"That’s it? That’s your price?"

His lips twitch, quite a faint smile. "Are you saying it’s too much?"

You don’t answer. Instead, with great reluctance, you place your hand in his. His grip is steady, neither forceful nor loose—just enough to ground you, to remind you that, at least for now, you are still his captive.

Not until the dance finishes.