The door opened behind him.
"You look terrible."
Neila's voice was dry, almost amused. She stepped up beside him, her hands resting on the railing, her eyes fixed on the city below.
"I'm just bored."
She wore white. A dress that seemed to glow in the soft light, its fabric flowing around her small frame like water, like moonlight, like something from a dream he hadn't known he was having.
Her blonde hair was pulled up in an elaborate arrangement, strands escaping to frame her face in soft wisps. Her blue eyes glowed under the moonlight.
"Are you going to throw yourself off this balcony?"
"I'm not."
"Pity. It would have been the most interesting thing to happen at this event." She turned to face him, and Hoshimi finally looked at her.
"You're staring."
"It's unlike you to wear something like this."
"I look ridiculous." She tugged at the bodice with visible irritation. "Do you have any idea how long it took to put this on? Three servants. Three. And the lacing in the back is so tight I can barely breathe. I feel like passing out. Three hours of maids poking and prodding and adjusting and readjusting. And for what? So I can stand around in a room full of people I hate, eating food I don't want."
A dress that seemed to glow in the starlight, its fabric flowing like water, catching every breath of wind and turning it into movement.
"Then why wear it?"
"Dumbass puppet, we're at a formal party." Her voice was bitter. "Because if I showed up in something comfortable, my father would start yelling at me of my 'failure to uphold family standards.'"
"Really?"
She dropped into the chair beside him, her posture immediately slumping, her carefully arranged skirts pooling around her feet. "Father insisted I wear it. Said it was appropriate for a young lady. As if he's ever cared about anything except how I reflect on the family name."
[Her father. The patriarch of the Shaw family. I know almost nothing about him. In fact, I barely know anything about any of the great families' heads. Do they keep themselves away from any public events? They have a lot of enemies after all, just like the Mirlo head.]
"Is he here?"
"No." Neila's lips curved. "Of course not, nothing I could do would make him come. I could cure death itself and he'd send a servant with a politely worded note of congratulations."
"He's always been like this," Neila continued, her voice dropping. "Ever since I was a child. He's a total bitch, I don't even know why I try to appease him." She rolled her eyes.
Hoshimi stared at her.
"Why are you telling me this?"
"The princess is telling you her backstory, just shut up and listen."
"Princess is a stretch, you're more like a goblin."
"No wonder why no one likes you."
"At least people like me more than you."
"Fair enough."
They sat in silence for a while. The noise of the banquet continued around them, distant and unreal, like something happening in another world. Neila's breathing slowly steadied. Her hands stopped twisting.
"I used to think," she said quietly, "that if I reached level ten, he'd finally be proud of me. That I'd finally be enough. But now..." She shook her head. "I don't know. Maybe nothing will ever be enough. Maybe I'll spend my whole life chasing something I can never catch."
"Anyways." Neila straightened, her mask sliding back into place. "This is boring. You're boring. I'm boring myself just talking to you."
"My apologies."
"Don't apologize. You sound like a robot." She stood, smoothing her skirts with quick, efficient movements. Then she extended her hand. "Dance with me."
Hoshimi stared at her hand.
"What?"
"Dance. With me." Neila turned to face him fully, her chin raised, her blue eyes challenging. "You've been sitting here looking like someone kicked your puppy for the past hour. If you want to salvage your reputation, what's left of it, you need to be seen doing something other than sulking in corners. And I didn't spend three hours being laced into this ridiculous dress just to stand on a balcony all night."
"I don't know how to dance."
"I do not give a shit." Her lips curved.
He looked at her hand. Small, pale, the nails perfectly manicured. The hand of someone who had never done manual labor.
Hoshimi got onto one knee and gave out his hand to her, his stoic face softening up ever so slightly.
"Neila, will you do the honors of dancing with me?"
She stared at him, wide-eyed.
She took his hand.
Her grip was cool, delicate, surprisingly strong but her palm was warm, softer than Reina's.
"Come on." She pulled him back through the glass doors, into the warmth and noise of the banquet hall.
She led him onto the dance floor, finding a space among the other couples, and his hand found her waist. The fabric of her dress was smooth beneath his fingers, warm from her skin. She was so small, he realized. Her head barely reached his shoulder.
The music was different now.
Slower. Softer. A waltz, elegant and patient, the kind of music that belonged in gilded ballrooms and period dramas. Couples moved across the dance floor in careful, measured steps, their faces composed, their movements precise.
"Follow my lead," she murmured. "I'm better at this than you."
Neila led him to the center of the floor.
She said. "And try not to step on my feet."
She placed her hand on his shoulder. Her other hand found his, their fingers intertwining.
They began to move.
The music swelled around them, elegant and patient, and Hoshimi tried to remember everything Reina had taught him. His feet found the rhythm. His body found its balance. He didn't step on her toes, not immediately, and for one brief, perfect moment, he was dancing.
Then he stumbled.
Neila caught him, her grip on his shoulder tightening, her body pressing against his to steady him.
"Hopeless," she murmured.
"I told you I couldn't dance."
"You told me you were terrible." She guided him through a simple turn, her movements patient, almost gentle. "Terrible implies a baseline level of competence that you simply haven't achieved."
"Thank you for that assessment."
"You're very welcome."
They kept dancing. The music played on, patient and eternal, and Hoshimi stumbled and forgot which way to turn and generally made a complete fool of himself. But Neila didn't seem to mind. She corrected him each time, her voice sharp but not unkind, her hands guiding him through movements that his body refused to learn.
Her expression seemed soft, as she stared into his eyes, her eyes popped under the bright lights, her cheeks were slightly pink from the blush and she had long thick eyelashes.
[She's rather pretty when she isn't talking. Maybe even more than miss Reina]
They moved in silence. The music swelled around them, strings and piano and something that might have been a harp. The other couples faded into the background, becoming shapes and shadows, becoming nothing at all. There was only the rhythm. Only Neila's hand in his. Only the strange, fragile peace of this moment.
"You're getting better," she said.
"I stepped on your foot."
Her blue eyes met his. "Yea barely, but you're still getting better."
"Don't let it go to your head."
They completed a turn. Another. The music swelled around them, elegant and patient. His feet knew where to step. For the first time since they'd started, he wasn't fighting.
"There," Neila murmured. "See? You can dance. You just needed to stop trying so hard."
The song ended. Another began.
They kept dancing.
"One more," she said. It wasn't a question.
"Okay."
They danced.
Hoshimi's feet found the rhythm more easily now. His body remembered the movements, the flow, the way to follow rather than lead. Neila's presence beside him was warm and steady, her breathing slow, her hand gentle on his shoulder.
"This is nice," she said quietly. "I didn't expect it to be nice."
"I didn't expect it to be either."
The night wore on.
The conversations continued, meaningless and endless, a parade of faces and names and carefully coded offers that Hoshimi deflected with the same flat, empty responses. Reina watched from the sidelines, her face full of pride, the edges of her lips were twitching, trying to hide a large grin from forming. The other guests circulated, their eyes following Hoshimi.
But for a few brief moments, in the center of the dance floor, with Neila's hand in his and her body moving against his, none of it mattered.
[She's not what I expected. I didn't expect her to have this side of her]
He opened his eyes. Neila was watching him, she was smiling.
"You're rather cute when you aren't talking."
"Huh??" Her face twitched. "Is that supposed to be an insult?"
"That was supposed to be a compliment." He held her ear, brushing away a strand of hair from her face.
The final song ended.
Neila stepped back, her hand slipping from his.
"See you later then."
She nodded once, sharply, then turned and walked away, disappearing into the crowd without looking back.
Reina appeared beside him.
"Gigolo," she said.
"Huh? What did I do?"
"You were supposed to dance with me."
Hoshimi pressed his fingers against his temples.
"One more hour."
"You'll survive." Her voice softened. "You always do."
[She's right. I always survive. But sometimes I wonder if surviving is enough.]
They walked back into the crowd. The conversations resumed, meaningless and endless, a parade of faces and names and carefully coded offers. Hoshimi smiled. He nodded.
The banquet ended.
The guests departed, their limousines pulling away into the night, their conversations fading into memory. The servants began clearing the tables. The chandeliers dimmed, their light fading to a soft, golden glow that seemed almost mournful.
Hoshimi stood at the entrance, his hands in his pockets, his face carefully blank. Reina was somewhere behind him, making final arrangements, ensuring that everything was properly concluded.
The night air was cold against his skin. The stars above were bright, too bright, like holes punched in the fabric of darkness.
Neila's limousine pulled away from the curb, its black surface gleaming in the starlight. He watched it go, watched until it disappeared around a corner, until there was nothing left but empty street and distant city lights.
[Maybe me and her aren't very different after all. She's just more of a bitch than I am]
"Hoshimi."
Reina's voice came from behind him. He turned.
She stood in the doorway, her dress catching the last of the chandelier light, her ginger hair slightly disheveled, her gold eyes tired but satisfied.
"Ready to go home?"
He nodded.
They walked to the car in silence. The city slid past the windows, lights and shadows, distant and unreal. Hoshimi watched it without seeing it, his reflection a ghost in the glass.
"You did well tonight," Reina said.