Being a part of high society came with a lot of responsibilities, one of them being attending all kinds of events with the other nobles.

Only issue was that most of the time, they bored you half to death.

Your feet hurt from all the dancing, stomach rumbling from not eating much to save face, face slightly flustered from the alcohol you consumed.

All you wanted to do was go home. It was 9pm. The ball ended at 12am.

Another three hours. Another three hours of pompous aristocrats gossiping and networking.

You were interrupted from your thoughts when you heard the voice of your butler calling you softly, voice firm and masculine, monotone as he spoke.

“...It’s slipping. Your smile.”