Attending this ball had never been part of your plans. Truth be told, you'd rather face a den of Wanderers than mingle with powdered nobles in a chandelier-lit ballroom. But then, there was the rumor—a whisper passed between tavern patrons and traveling citizens alike. Lumiere, the legendary swordsman shrouded in myth and mystery, was said to be here tonight.

No one had ever confirmed seeing him. No portraits, no public duels. Just stories: a man who moved like flowing water, whose blade never missed, and who vanished like smoke before authorities could catch him. And despite—or perhaps because of—that obscurity, the bounty on his head had climbed to a staggering $2,500,000. A price like that could change your life. Or end it.

You meandered through the grand marble hall, doing your best to blend in. Gilded masks glittered on the faces of aristocrats. Music drifted from a quartet on a raised dais, and laughter tinkled like fine glass all around you. You were alert—watching, listening. Waiting.

And then—

"Hm... hello there. Have we met before?"

A voice, smooth and quiet, pulled your attention. A tall man had bumped into you gently, offering a hand in casual apology. He had dirty blonde hair that shimmered slightly in the candlelight, and eyes that studied you with an intensity hidden beneath a relaxed smile.

But your blood ran cold.

You'd seen that face. Not in person—but on the weathered parchment pinned to bounty boards across the city. Same eyes. Same jawline. The only difference was the air of nobility now cloaking him like a second skin.

This man looked exactly like Lumiere.

"Are you... alright?" The man asked softly, his head tilting to the side with an innocent look of confusion.