After the Assembly concluded, it was customary for the members to take advantage of the rare event where all the power players of their race were present. Deals were struck, agreements negotiated, alliances forged.
That was why a platform in the form of a night party emerged, using the successful conclusion of the Assembly as an excuse to celebrate.
And while nobles and merchants dressed extravagantly and spread food lavishly, they never forgot to socialize with each other, all while furthering their own agendas.
Ashen was, unsurprisingly, dragged by Lucia to change clothes.
He dressed in a tailored black suit that emphasized his lean, muscled build, while Lucia wore a black gown with an exposed back, the fabric clinging to her curves before flowing down elegantly. Minimal jewelry decorated her to complete the look.
Their clothes would have been called fashionable in Esperra, but in this Seravellian party, where culture leaned toward the flamboyant side, their minimalist attire only attracted faint mockery.
"Esperrian monkeys," someone whispered as they passed.
"No taste for proper fashion," another noble sniffed, her dress so covered in ruffles and jewels she could barely move.
The two paid them no attention.
Ashen had cringed too hard when he saw the "dazzling" attire Lucia first suggested—a golden monstrosity with peacock feathers and enough gemstones to fund a small army. He'd almost given her a good spanking for even suggesting something so goosebumps-inducing.
In the end, they'd settled for their current look. Lucia had followed through to match him, though Ashen secretly suspected she also preferred the Esperrian style.
Her usual professional attire didn't contradict his conjecture anyway.
As for the reason she'd dragged him to this headache disguised as a celebration, it was for the same reason as everyone else: striking deals.
With him being unexpectedly elevated to Count, this was the best opportunity to at least get acquainted with the merchants and nobles he'd have to deal with when buying the resources he needed for his territory.
After a wave of introductions, Ashen encountered reactions that ranged from overly enthusiastic to outright dismissive.
Some nobles practically threw themselves at him, gushing about his heroism, his potential, his extraordinary future. They wanted connections, wanted favors, wanted to attach themselves to a rising star.
Others looked at him like he was a performing monkey—interesting for a moment, but ultimately beneath serious consideration until he proved himself in ways they respected.
Ashen got assaulted with every kind of emotion as he went along.
The contempt of the delusional, who refused to believe what they hadn't seen with their own eyes.
The greed for his power, merchants calculating how to profit from his abilities.
The lust for his looks, noblewomen and a few noblemen eyeing him like a prize to be won.
The envy for his fame, other young nobles bristling at his sudden prominence.
The hardest to deal with, especially with his current task, were the arrogant grand nobles who only looked at him like a new upstart barely worth their notice—men and women who sat in towers built from pride bricks, too high to see the ground.
But eventually, with a con artist who could change faces as easily as she breathed, he was able to capture the personalities and peculiarities of all the potential merchants and nobles he'd have to deal with when acquiring needed resources, whether human or otherwise.
Lucia played her role perfectly.
With one merchant, she was demure and impressed by his business acumen. With a grand duchess, she was sharp and witty, matching the woman's cutting remarks with veiled compliments that could be taken either way. With a young noble clearly interested in Ashen, she was possessive without being crude, her hand settling on Ashen's arm with casual ownership.
The woman got the message and retreated.
Finally, the last portion of the celebration transitioned into dancing.
As Ashen's plus one, Lucia was naturally his partner.
They moved to the floor as music filled the grand hall; something slow and intimate wove around. It was a melody that demanded closeness.
Ashen's hand found the small of her bare back, his palm pressing against warm skin. Lucia's fingers curled around his shoulder, her other hand clasping his.
They began to move.
At first, the couple kept a proper, respectful distance with appropriate posture.
But then Lucia's hand slid from his shoulder to the nape of his neck, fingers threading through his hair. Ashen's hand on her back pressed more firmly, pulling her closer.
Their bodies aligned.
Her chest pressed against his with each inhale, the thin fabric of her gown doing nothing to hide the softness beneath. His thigh slipped between hers as they turned; the movement was slow but unmistakably intentional.
Her breath hitched.
Ashen's fingers traced the curve of her exposed spine, drawing lazy patterns on bare skin. Lucia's hand tightened in his hair, her nails scraping lightly against his scalp.
They were practically glued together now, moving as one entity rather than two separate dancers.
The slow dance had unknowingly become something erotic and charged with sexual tension that crackled between them like electricity.
Their faces were less than an inch apart.
Lucia's lips parted slightly, her breath mingling with his.
'Warm and sweet…' the thought drifted across Ashen's mind as his nose caught a hint of the wine she'd sipped earlier.
Ashen tilted his head fractionally, his lips brushing the corner of her mouth.
Lucia's eyes darkened.
She shifted, her thigh teasingly pressing between his legs as they turned again.
Ashen's hand slid lower on her back, fingers splaying possessively just above the curve of her ass.
Her lips grazed his again in another almost-kiss, as if daring him.
Who would break first?
They moved in silence, the tension escalating with each passing second. Lips brushing, bodies pressing, breaths mixing… they kept edging each other, seeing who would break first.
Lucia's fingers tightened in his hair. Ashen's hand on her back pulled her even closer, making her feel something hard down there.
Their mouths hovered a hairsbreadth apart, lips barely touching as they breathed each other's air.
"You can dance," Lucia finally spoke, her voice hoarse and low. She tried to make it sound sarcastic, but the genuine surprise bled through. "Surprisingly well."
Ashen's lips curved against hers in a smile. "Alice and I learned many things as teenagers. Because of boredom, mostly. Sometimes looking for new stimulation." His hand traced another pattern on her spine. "Dancing was one of them."
"Mmm."
They turned again, bodies moving in perfect synchronization.
"My turn to ask a question." Ashen's voice was equally quiet. "You won against Antonio, saving me like a knight in shining armor in the process…"
His thumb stroked the small of her back.
"So my dear knight, why did you look so upset afterward? Did you perhaps pity his end?"
Lucia was silent for a moment, her eyes distant despite their physical closeness.
Then she shook her head, the movement subtle.
"I was mad at myself."
Her fingers loosened slightly in his hair, then tightened again.
"For a moment, I grew arrogant enough to assume how my opponent would react based solely on his fear of death." Her voice was even. "I became hasty in my thirst for vengeance against those who wanted to hurt you. I briefly lost control."
She met his eyes, self-reproach flickering in her gaze.
"That was unacceptable."
Ashen's hand stilled on her back, listening.
"Antonio had a wife and two little daughters." Lucia's voice remained steady, but something in it had gone cold. "They reside in Winstor's territory."
Understanding crashed over Ashen.
If Antonio had saved himself by betraying his puppeteer, his family wouldn't have survived the night.
Lucia nodded, reading the realization in his eyes.
"I was arrogant enough to assume that just because he allowed himself to be controlled, his willpower wouldn't be enough to overcome the fear of death. That his judgment would be clouded enough to take the road I laid for him."
Her lips twisted bitterly.
"I miscalculated. I lost control. I made a mistake."
The music swelled around them, other dancers moving in their own worlds, oblivious to the conversation happening in their midst.
Ashen stayed silent for a moment, then his hand on her back pressed more firmly, grounding her.
"Nevertheless, you saved me." His voice was gentle but firm. "Even if it was a mistake, it wasn't unforgivable. I'm still alive and well, dancing with you, aren't I?"
Lucia's expression didn't change.
"Maybe if I were strong, such thinking would be fine." Her voice came softly in a whisper. "But I'm weak, Ashen. And the weak don't get second chances. They aren't allowed to be mistaken. They aren't allowed to lose control."
Her fingers trembled slightly in his hair.
"One unforgivable blunder leads to a dead end. One unexpected misstep leads to a forgotten corpse."
She met his eyes, resentment lurking in her gaze.
"And I am, unfortunately, weak."
The music ended with her last word.
They stood there for a heartbeat longer, bodies still pressed together, before the spell broke and couples began leaving the dance floor.
Ashen didn't answer right away, his mind turning over her words.
As the venue gradually emptied and every guest climbed into horse-drawn carriages attended by maids and butlers, Ashen and Lucia walked on foot.
The streets of Paradise at night were beautiful yet cold.
They walked side by side in silence beneath crystal streetlamps that bathed the pristine cobblestones in a blue-white glow. Lucia's heels clicked softly, the sound slipping between buildings that rose like monuments to flawless architecture.
"What you said," Ashen finally spoke. "I don't agree with it."
Lucia tilted her head, curious.
"I don't agree that you're weak."
She let out a soft, humorless laugh. "How so? Do you think I could beat you, perchance?"
Her tone turned sarcastic.
"I don't even think I could beat that airheaded lover of yours in a serious fight."
Ashen smirked, his hand catching hers as they walked. "Well, from the moment you acted as a tigress and seduced me, I became your person."
The walk eventually brought them toward a side alley, away from the main street.
"And even before that, we were partners."
They entered the narrow space between buildings, shadows deepening around them.
"My strength is your strength, Lucia."
They stopped.
He took a step toward her. She took a step back.
"From the moment we signed that contract, you were never weak."
Another step forward. Another step back.
"Because you being weak means I'm weak."
Her back hit the wall. He kept advancing until he was right in front of her, one hand braced against the stone beside her head.
"And I refuse to be weak."
His other hand came up to cup her jaw, thumb tracing her cheekbone.
"So it's okay to occasionally err. I will be there for you."
He leaned in, his breath warm against her face. The tension from the dance was roaring back to life with doubled intensity.
"...If you get hurt, I will nurse you."
His thumb traced her lower lip.
"...If you are anguished, I will soothe you."
His body pressed against hers, pinning her to the wall without crushing her.
"You can stumble and fall, for I will catch you."
His lips hovered just above hers, not quite touching.
"Just like you caught me today."
His hand slid from her jaw to the back of her neck, fingers tangling in her hair.
"Just like you exposed your secrets to protect mine."
His forehead pressed against hers, eyes locked.
"Just like you defied a Sin Lord so I could live another day."
Ashen may have been out of his depths during that trial, but he wasn't blind. In fact, he was the farthest from it. He'd seen clearly who was pulling the strings. He'd understood exactly what Lucia had risked for him.
Lucia's breath came faster now, her chest rising and falling against his. Her hands had somehow found their way to his chest, fingers curling into the fabric of his suit.
"...That confidence of yours is so irksome as always," she finally managed, her voice breathless.
Then, more quietly, nearly vulnerably: "...But I'm as envious as I am irked of it."
Ashen's smile turned smug. "Oh yeah? What are you going to do about it, you envious vixen?"
Lucia's eyes flashed dangerously.
"Maybe I should suffocate you... with a kiss!"
She didn't wait for a response.
Her hands fisted in his hair and yanked him down as she surged up, their mouths crashing together with bruising force.
It wasn't gentle. Wasn't soft, tentative, or sweet.
It was aggressive and demanding, all teeth and tongue and frenzied hunger. Lucia kissed him like she wanted to devour him whole, like she could consume his confidence and make it her own.
Ashen's hand tightened in her hair, angling her head to deepen the kiss. His other hand gripped her hip, pulling her flush against him.
Lucia bit his lower lip hard enough to sting, then soothed it with her tongue. Her leg hooked around his, using the leverage to press even closer.
They broke apart for a gasping breath, then crashed together again.
This time, Ashen took control, his tongue invading her mouth, swallowing the soft sound she made. Lucia's nails dug into his shoulders through his suit, her body arching into his.
The kiss was violent in lust… They had danced around each other all night. Now the tension snapped.
When they finally broke apart, both breathing hard, Lucia's lips were swollen, and her carefully maintained composure was completely shattered.
Her eyes were dark with desire, her chest heaving against his.
Ashen looked just as wrecked, his hair disheveled from her hands, his lips red from her teeth.
They stared at each other in the shadowed alley, the sounds of Paradise's night distant and unimportant.
Neither spoke.
Words would have ruined it.
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