Kate placed her hand in his other hand and began to explain:
"Hold your hand like this… yes, good… now a step to the right, a step to the left, back, forward, then we turn with grace. Look into my eyes, not at the floor."
Aaron, smiling awkwardly:
"You sound strict, like a teacher."
She laughed:
"And you're a hopeless student!"
They stopped then, gazing at each other. There eyes shone, and the music in the background set a poetic frame for that brief moment, filled with silence and unspoken feelings.
Kate, lightly:
"Well, I think you're ready."
Aaron:
"What do you mean?"
Kate:"To the dance floor… now!"
Before he could protest, she pulled him by the hand and led him toward the hall, while he laughed softly, trying to keep up with her quick steps.
They entered the ballroom, lights shimmering across the polished floor, the music rising higher.
The dance began. His steps were hesitant at first, but with her beside him, the nervousness faded. A small warmth began to bloom in his chest whenever this girl was near.
And for the first time, he felt the world vanish around him, leaving only her small hand in his… and his racing heartbeat, trying to match the rhythm of this new feeling.
As the music rose with its graceful melodies, Kate and Aaron swayed together to its rhythm in the center of the dance floor. Laughter rippled from the corners, and hushed conversations wove their threads among the scattered guests in the hall…
Then the voice of a servant rang out in the great hall:
"Announcing the arrival of Count Theodor de Valstar, known as Black Opal!"
The hall fell silent for a heartbeat. Some dancers froze mid-step, while the music lingered faintly in the background. Heads turned, eyes widened.
Count Black Opal entered—a young man in his late twenties, tall and strikingly handsome, his silver hair gleaming under the lights. He wore a refined black suit, half of his face hidden behind a white mask adorned with interlacing black lines, like a shadow balanced between mystery and allure.
His entrance was slow, assured—each step carrying the weight of someone who owned the room.
The young women vied to catch a glimpse of him, whispering his name, exchanging stories of his daring ventures and his vast trade in gemstones and jewelry. Yet, in one corner of the hall, the Claudion family followed his arrival with disapproving eyes—especially Margaret, who faltered slightly as she saw him making his way toward her.
He bowed to her in greeting, his voice clear and warm
Count Theodor:
"Countess Margaret… how beautiful you are tonight. You haven't changed—you still shine like a pure, timeless jewel."
Margaret faltered, but answered politely:
"Welcome, Count Theodor… we did not expect your presence."
He smiled faintly, then turned to greet the Duchess, inquiring about her health with exaggerated concern. From afar, Kate watched, a shadow of unease on her face. She pulled Aaron with her, drawing close to her mother—as though she wished to shield her from this unwelcome guest.
At that very moment, in the private chamber where Claudion, Peter, Counselor Adrian Valtmore, Baron Hauser, and Count Alfred were gathered, Peter was presenting a stack of papers linked to the new project.
Peter:
"And here, we will need about two hundred tons of iron every month, for the next two years, to complete the railway in full…"
Everyone listened intently, until a sudden knock broke the stillness. Claudion motioned for the visitor to enter. A servant stepped inside and spoke in a hushed tone:
Servant:
"My lord… Count Theodor de Valstar has arrived at the ball."
A brief silence followed, the men exchanging glances.
The counselor arched his brows, asking sharply:
Adrian:
"Did you invite him?"
Claudion, calm yet firm:
"No. I did not."
Then, with a thin, practiced smile:
"But don't worry. I'll handle him."
Adrian leaned closer, his voice lowered:
"You must be careful… this young man is ambitious—and dangerous. Don't let him steal the ball, the attention… or the project."
Claudion nodded with quiet confidence. "Excuse me a moment, I'll return shortly." He rose, followed at once by Peter, Count Alfred, and Baron Hauser.
In the grand hall, Black Opal continued his rehearsed conversations with the guests, scattering his smiles like gifts.
Then Claudion entered, his steps steady, his back straight, his features composed.
All eyes turned to the long-anticipated encounter—between two rivals, evenly matched.
With a wide smile, Black Opal spoke first:
Count Theodor:
"Count Claudion… it has been some time. You remain as dignified as ever."
Claudion, with a formal smile:
"Count Theodor… your presence is unexpected. We did not send you an invitation."
Count Theodor:
"An invitation? Ah, think nothing of it, Count Claudion… This is a charity ball—summoned by conscience before any card could be sent. And since its cause is noble, my presence is a duty, is it not?"
He laughed briefly, and the guests responded, though Claudion caught the undertone beneath the words. Black Opal's voice was laced with double meaning—professing support while hinting at challenge.
Claudion, calm and sharp:
"Of course. Every donor is welcome… you may contribute at any time. Our doors are always open to supporters—even those who enter through the windows."
The laughter stopped.
Their eyes locked for a long moment—fire beneath ice, a silent duel between two men who both knew the measure of the other.
Count Theodor (Black Opal) smiled again, bowing slightly with a faint gesture.
Black Opal:
"I shall make certain of it, Count… and I promise, I will always remain… close to you."
Then he turned and continued his way into the hall.
Claudion turned toward his son peter.
Claudion:
"Stay here. Watch Black Opal's every move—every gesture, every word."
Peter nodded silently, fixing his gaze on the guests.
---
Meanwhile, under the moonlight where a gentle breeze stirred the night air, Amber sat beside Eric. She clasped his hand and spoke with trembling urgency:
Amber:
"Don't you understand what I'm saying? The Baroness is hinting she wants me to marry her son. Eric, what am I to do? I'm so afraid… I can't imagine marrying anyone but you."
Eric held her hand firmly, his voice steady with resolve:
"Don't worry. I'll handle this. The time has come—I will tell Uncle Claudion that I love you, and that we wish to marry."
Amber:
"No, Eric… I don't think now is the right time to tell him."
Eric:
"No, Amber. This is the perfect time. We must declare our love—we cannot hide it any longer."
Amber felt strength and confidence in his words. She smiled and embraced him joyfully… unaware that a storm was gathering, one that could tear at the very roots of their innocent love.