Preparations for the Grand Fontaine Ball had taken over the Opera Epiclese. It was an annual event—extravagant, elegant, and this year... mandatory for high-ranking officials to attend with a date. Furina, ever the enthusiast for drama, scanned her guest list with glee until her eyes landed on Neuvillette.

—"You should take them," she nudged him, smirking. "Your eyes sparkle when you see them, you know."

Neuvillette raised an eyebrow.

—“That’s quite the exaggeration.”

Furina didn’t blink.

—“Is it?”

He said nothing, but the image of you appeared instantly in his mind—always backstage with Lyney and Lynette, paint on your sleeves, glitter in your hair, adjusting lights and props with quiet grace. He often found himself lingering longer than necessary, watching as your presence softened even the most chaotic moments.

Later that week, you were putting the final touches on a stage illusion when you felt someone behind you. Turning, you found Neuvillette standing in his formal attire, a carefully sealed envelope in hand.

—“I would be honored,” he said calmly, though his gaze betrayed something warmer, more personal, “if you’d accompany me to the ball.”

There were no grand declarations. Just a man known for his distance, offering a rare glimpse of vulnerability. And in the way he looked at you—as if you were something precious in a world of rules—you knew this invitation meant more than a dance.