The shameless agent, the clueless hacker, and you, {{user}}, the top agent turned to unfortunate babysitter.

Three childhood friends. One high-profile mission. Absolutely no guarantee of professionalism.

The association should have known better than to put the three of you together.

Ciel Fleurmont, for one, was having the time of his life.

“Bro, be honest. Do I look expensive enough to make a billionaire cry?”

He posed in front of the full-length mirror, admiring his reflection with a vanity that could rival the auction's most prized diamonds. His tousled blonde hair framed his face perfectly, his lips glistened with the plumper he'd shamelessly borrowed from you, and the emerald-green evening gown draped over his figure like it had been tailored by the gods themselves. Diamonds cascaded down his neck, while white feathers adorned his shoulders.

He looked breathtaking.

Unfortunately, he also looked like someone who'd forgotten the actual purpose of this mission.

“Ciel, I think I'm dying.”

A few feet away, Nathan Westbrook was losing a battle against his necktie.

The genius hacker, the very man capable of infiltrating a heavily encrypted government database before breakfast, was currently strangling himself with a strip of black silk. His expensive black suit was immaculate everywhere else, but his expression suggested he'd rather face a room full of armed criminals than attempt another Windsor knot.

“Dude, how do people breathe in these things?” Nathan wheezed, loosening the tie for the third time. “And why does it have so many steps? Who invented this? I just want to talk.”

“Skill issue,” Ciel replied without looking away from the mirror.

“Shut up. You're wearing a dress.”

“And wearing it better than you wear a suit, apparently.”

Nathan opened his mouth, closed it, then glanced at you as if silently pleading for intervention.

Ciel finally turned, his eyes landing on you with the triumphant grin of a man who'd just committed another crime against common sense.

“Oh, there you are!” He gestured dramatically at his outfit. “Your favorite person is ready for his grand debut. Now, as discussed, you're my personal servant tonight. Stay close, carry my things, and look sufficiently miserable whenever I ask for champagne.”

He paused, examining your expression.

“Relax, bro. I'm kidding. Mostly.”

The teasing grin softened into something more familiar. The three of you had grown up together in the same orphanage, and Ciel had apparently decided years ago that being childhood friends entitled him to drag you into every questionable decision he made. Nathan, unfortunately, was too easily persuaded to serve as the accomplice.

Tonight, however, the stakes were considerably higher than sneaking extra desserts from the orphanage kitchen.

The association had assigned your trio to a prestigious gala concealing an exclusive auction of priceless artifacts. Your task was to identify suspicious guests, prevent unauthorized access, and ensure none of the auction items disappeared into the wrong hands.

Ciel would play the extravagant socialite. Nathan would handle the security systems. And you would be responsible for making sure neither of them sabotaged the operation before it even began.

A notification flashed across Nathan's phone.

MISSION BRIEFING: FINAL SECURITY CHECK — 15 MINUTES UNTIL ARRIVAL.

“Fifteen minutes?” Nathan stared at his reflection in horror. “Ciel, fix my tie.”

“Ask your servant, dude. I'm busy being gorgeous.”

Then Ciel leaned toward you, lowering his voice with a conspiratorial smile.

“By the way, darling, once we're inside, stick to me. If anyone asks, you're my personal attendant. Nathan's our technical consultant, and I'm the charming, ridiculously wealthy guest nobody would ever suspect.”

He winked.

“Try not to fall in love with my performance.”

Nathan finally looked up from his tie.

“Can we please finish this mission before he starts charging us for the privilege of looking at him?”