Chapter Text
It was a glittering assembly. Golden chandeliers lit up the room, reflecting off the marble floors and clear, glass windows. Music filled the hall. The rich, garbed in designer clothes, expensive jewels, and varying masks, laughed amongst one another as they dined on fine food and sipped sparkling champagne.
These luxurious parties were often thrown without much purpose except to flaunt the extent of one’s wealth. They would be compared to the previous ones, where a gorgeous fountain had been built just for the wine or the tablecloths were lined with diamonds.
Yet there was an unspoken dread that mingled well with this particular set of guests: each and every one of them belonged to factions located in the N109 Zone—a lawless land teeming with violence and crime. Where illicit trade and illegal research was conducted.
It was unheard of, so to say, to attend one of these events without backup from the Hunter’s Association. But your reason for being here was personal and you couldn’t afford to get anyone else involved. You needed an in—passage to the N109 Zone without a constant target on your back.
Hidden in a corner of the ballroom, you subtly tapped at your Hunter’s Watch, reviewing certain files in preparation for conversation.
That’s when the party kicked off in full swing. It didn’t matter where you stood—a plethora of questionable characters were eager to approach the mysterious young lady who seemed oddly mystifying despite the black veil that hid her entire face.
But a night of mingling resulted in more flirting than anything else. It was tiresome—fruitless.
None of these intrusive figures had what you needed. To you, hunting Wanderers was an easier task than this. Yet who could you blame apart from yourself for deciding to stand out? Perhaps you could use this unspoken appeal of yours to your advantage.
“Excuse me, miss.” Just as you were entertaining the thought, he appeared. “May I have this dance?” Even behind that mask, which covered two-thirds of his face, you could tell he was handsome. Beside the calmness of his red-blue eyes, he wore a charming smile, offering his hand out to you like a prince in a fairytale.
“Of course.” You didn’t hesitate and your hand fit well in his. Stepping onto the dancefloor, the man pulled you close to him, leading you skillfully through the steps of a simple waltz as a new song began.
You had him—a potential asset that surpassed arm’s reach. His gaze was trained quite earnestly on you and he seemed to carry a strange sense of foreboding with him that was more notable than the rest. You wondered, then, just who you might be dealing with and how you could play him like an instrument.
“You seem a little out of place.” Suddenly, your body was pressed firmer against the man’s—your skin tingling as his fingers grazed further down your exposed back. “And judging by how you haven’t said a word, you’re not even paying attention to your partner. How rude.” He said that, yet the grin widening across his mouth suggested he wasn’t really offended at all.
“Hmph.” Your expression soured for a moment before you feigned a smile. “Perhaps I haven’t spoken because I have nothing to say.”
“That’s not true,” he countered, “If a woman I’ve met has nothing to say, it means she’s either speechless because of my good looks or she’s plotting something naughty.” He leaned down then—his lips a breath away from your ear. “Seeing as how you aren’t starstruck, I must presume you’re the latter.”
“It’s quite brazen of you to assume my character.”
“Is it?” He chuckled, straightening his posture again. “I apologize.” The dance continued in silence. Somehow, his flippant words piqued your curiosity.
“What made you say that before?” You asked, giving in to his provocation. “That I seemed out of place?” There was the spark of a thrill, similar to a flame, igniting in his red-blue eyes. He forced a twirl from you, executed with the grace of the upper class, as if to see if you could keep up with him. A wordless challenge.
With equal elegance, you found yourself back in his arms without ever missing a beat.
“I don’t need to see your eyes beneath the curtain of this veil to know how much displeasure they hold.” His thumb traced along your bottom lip. It was an action so audacious, you thought of biting it clean off. “The curve of that hateful mouth is enough.”
“I’m not very fond of skirt-chasers.” With every step, a purpose was born. You sought to crush his foot beneath the point of your heel at least once during this ugsome dance. But whenever you thought you were in control, he proved you wrong by expertly avoiding your malice. Those looking on figured it was a performance and gathered around to watch. Yet it was only because they could see his smile and not the glare beyond your veil.
“Name calling? That’s not very nice.” It was only after your twelfth failed attempt did he finally get to the point. “I think we could help one another.”
“Oh really?” you asked with a sneer, “And how, pray tell, could we ‘help’ one another?” He laughed again—this must have been amusing to him.
“We can start by being less aggressive, Miss Hunter.”
What did he—?
His hand tugged on yours, forcing you to twirl yet again. But instead of holding you chest to chest on your return, he dipped you low, sliding his hand beneath the thigh exposed by the slit of your dress.
“You want to get into the N109 Zone, don’t you?” He murmured against your neck.
“How did you—?” Applause erupted. The song was over. You realized this dance—this battle of wits and grace—had ended with your loss.
Instead of captivating him, it was he who captivated you.
“You shouldn’t flash that Hunter’s Watch just anywhere, you know.” He let you back up with his lips brushing against your ear a second time. “If you’re interested, you can meet me at the location on the card.” Then he took your hand and kissed it sweetly. “The offer won’t last very long.”
“What card?” He tried to hide the smirk tugging on his mouth, but his snicker was apparent.
“Check your garter.”
Looking down, you noticed a black and purple card that had slipped into your garter when your thigh was exposed. Before you could spit profanities at him, he was gone, leaving you with an unpleasant tingle on the back of your neck.
“Pervert,” you thought.
Still, you considered his words. He suggested helping one another and was the first to shoot you such a bold proposal. Your intuition and assumption about him was correct—there was something about him that made him stand out from the rest.
His offer was tempting—he could give you what you wanted. But what would helping him entail? It could very much have been bait set for an intricate trap. But how would you know unless you indulged in a bit of that possibility?
Mind made up, your eyes glazed over the address on the card he’d given you—shoulders tensing at the meeting place he mentioned.
“A five star hotel?” You murmured to yourself—temper rising. “Who the hell does that pervert think he is?”