The ballroom was alight with celebration—an evening gathering to welcome the new term. Laughter echoed beneath chandeliers, and noble students twirled across polished marble in elegant waltzes.
Evelyne stood alone at the edge, swirling a glass of sparkling water. She had always hated these kinds of events. Frivolous, judgmental… exhausting.
Yet tonight, something felt different.
Her eyes searched the crowd.
Elisse was here—nervous, clinging to the shadows, wearing a borrowed dress stitched lovingly by her mother. Evelyne made a note to pull her into a dance before the night ended.
But before she could move, someone stepped into her path.
He wore a silver mask, his hair raven-black, tuxedo tailored with quiet sophistication. No name pinned to his collar.
"Lady Evelyne," he said, voice calm and deep. "Would you grant me a dance?"
She narrowed her eyes. "I don't dance with strangers."
"Then allow me to introduce myself," he said, bowing slightly. "Call me… Crow."
Evelyne hesitated. The nobles were already staring. Whispering. Curious.
But something about him—his posture, his voice—it didn't feel like flattery.
It felt like purpose.
She took his hand.
They moved to the floor, gliding smoothly, perfectly in sync. He didn't stumble or lead too forcefully. He moved with her, not over her.
"You're not a student," she murmured.
"Who says I'm not?" he smiled behind the mask.
"You're not on the registry."
"Maybe I'm just good at hiding."
She arched a brow. "Why are you here?"
Crow leaned in, his voice brushing her ear like a secret.
"To remind you: not everyone watching wants to see you fall."
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From the shadows, Lucien watched—fists clenched.
And across the room, Elisse stared in awe at the fearless noblewoman who once saved her from shame.
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To be continued...