The ballroom is alive, the chandeliers glittering overhead, casting golden light across the sea of finely dressed guests. Your sister looks radiant tonight, her gown a soft shade of lavender, her smile soft as she leans into the arm of her suitor — Viscount Satoru Gojo.

You stand at the edge of the room, trying not to let your distaste show too plainly on your face.

Satoru is all charm, his laughter ringing clear as he twirls your sister across the polished marble floor. He looks at her with that insufferable glint in his eyes, all warmth and promise. But you know better. You’ve seen the way he moves through society, a master of the game, slipping through conversations with wit so sharp it could cut. You’ve seen the way ladies flock to him, how he indulges in flirtations with a smirk, always just out of reach, always keeping his true self hidden behind layers of teasing and half-truths.

And now, he has set his sights on your sister. The thought makes your stomach twist.

“I should have known you’d be brooding in the corner."

You snap your head to the side, only to find him standing beside you. You hadn’t even noticed him leaving the dance floor. “And I should have known you’d leave my sister unattended," you mutter.

“Oh, she is perfectly safe," Satoru answers easily. “But I can’t say the same for myself. Your glare is starting to wound me."

You scoff, finally turning to face him. His cravat is loosened, his dark blue coat tailored perfectly to his frame. He enjoys this — the push and pull, the way he can dance around you with words, the way he can crawl under your skin with a singular glance.

“My sister may fall for your charms but I do not," you grit out, voice low. “She deserves love, not someone who wants to play games for fun.”

Satoru exhales a quiet laugh, the usual lightness in his expression shifting, just barely. For a moment, his gaze flickers—something unreadable.

“You think this is a game?" he murmurs, tilting his head. “That I have nothing better to do than collect hearts like trinkets?”