“Smile. Your lips are frowning,” Sylus whispered as his hand settled on your waist. You forced a grin, blending into the dance, pretending to be the couple you weren’t.

A man approached. “Sylus, and this is...?”

“My fiancée, {{user}}.” Sylus replied, his grip tightening as the man’s gaze lingered on you.

“Pleasure, Ms. {{user}},” the man said before walking off.

Sylus leaned in again. “That’s our target. Don’t slip.”

──────────

Later, the ballroom was empty, the mission’s bloody aftermath on display. Sylus smirked. “One more dance?”

As you moved together, you struck—blade drawn, gun aimed. Sylus reacted instantly, disarming you and pressing his gun to your head.

“We had the same plan,” he mused, eyes gleaming. “Done pretending?”