The glasses were almost empty.
The words came more loosely, the smiles longer, and the world began to seem… slower and more fun.
Luna swirled the last drop of girly beer as if analyzing a universal secret.
"Guys…" said Victoria, her eyes slightly shining. "…we're too wonderful to sit around."
Nikoly pointed with his empty glass. "I agree. We're on the wrong floor for this level of alcoholic beauty."
Lumine was already standing, arranging her hair with the care of someone who knew that the reflection in the mirror would always praise her.
"Second floor. The dance floor. They say it's where the children of the aristocracy lose their composure and dignity—sometimes simultaneously."
Luna stood up with a slight controlled imbalance, like a drunk feline in 12-inch heels. "Let's see if this club is worthy of our footprints."
The elevator was an experience in itself: mirrors everywhere, soft lighting, and an ambient soundtrack that sounded like electronic flirting.
The four of them were silent.
The "ding" from the second floor was like a divine gong.
The doors opened.
Explosion of colored lights.
Bass button.
Bodies dancing in perfect (or imperfect) harmony.
Digital chandeliers floated from the ceiling like constellations in ecstasy.
Screens displayed real-time footage of the dance floor—with filters that made even the uncoordinated look like pop stars.
Noble men and women, rich, young, some famous heirs, others just mysterious.
Tight suits, tight dresses, perfumes that cost more than apartments.
But everything stopped for half a second when the four women entered.
The DJ played a more intense loop without even realizing it.
The lights leaned, involuntarily, towards them.
Victoria in a metallic wine dress, violet hair moving like party smoke.
Spoiled and dangerous girl's smile.
Nikoly, on the other hand, had a black asymmetrical cut, leather boots and eyes that seemed to scan everything in real time.
Lumine wore royal blue organza, her silhouette ethereal, with the aura of a princess who could order someone's execution with a snap of her fingers.
As soon as they stepped onto the track, the stares began.
Groups of young men adjusted their ties.
Others approached as if going to an altar.
But…
were ignored.
The four looked at each other, laughed complicitly and began to dance together — without anyone else caring.
Fluid, perfect movements.
Bodies molding to the electronic beat, hands in the air, free smiles.
Luna tossed her hair back in a twirl that drew a collective gasp from the male audience.
Victoria climbed onto a side step and danced with her hands in the air, looking at the ceiling as if summoning sensual thunder.
Nikoly kept her movements precise and elegant, even with the alcohol, she danced like a warrior who had just conquered an empire.
Lumine just floated, always seeming a second lighter than air.
They danced with each other.
For freedom. For the night. For the very existence of being incredible.
The men, rejected with class and indifference, tried to hide it.
Some returned to their groups.
Others… stood there, just watching, hypnotized.
One of them even said softly, "Who are they…?"
And the friend replied, "The hosts of the party."
Luna, sweating lightly, smiled with her eyes closed. The beat of the music pulsed inside her chest.
She opened her eyes.
She looked at her friends.
All laughing, dancing, living.
"That's it," he thought. "I am the moment."
In another part of the place, from the top of the VIP balcony, with a discreet drink in his hand and a look as calm as it was dangerous, a man watched.
His real name was kept under seven locks.
Your face?
Too handsome to be ignored, but with a always moderate expression, like someone who learned from an early age not to show what he thinks.
He dressed well, but not flashily.
The suit was dark blue, without logos, but impeccably cut.
White gold watch on the wrist. No ostentation.
And yet… he radiated something.
Presence. Weight. Lineage.
But in that moment, all of that disappeared, because he only had eyes for one woman.
Down below, amidst the strobe lights and deafening electronic beats, she danced as if the world had disappeared.
It was the Moon.
Loose hair, spinning in the air.
Disorderly steps, but so naturally graceful that they bordered on enchantment.
And the smile... half drunk, half victorious, like someone who's too happy to care about the opinion of any dynasty.
The man tilted his head.
"She is dancing to be free."
And that… intrigued him more than any princess trained in 14 languages and three types of curtsy.
Decided.
He left the glass on a tray.
He walked down the stairs calmly, avoiding the curious looks.
He passed through the crowd as if the bodies were opening up instinctively.
Until he stopped in front of her.
Luna spun around at the sound, laughing to herself, when she felt something.
A heat.
A presence.
He turned around… and came face to face with him.
A tall, handsome man, dark eyes with golden sparks.
The posture of someone who has sat on thrones... but now just wanted to be there, with her.
She blinked.
"Hi…?" he said, with a crooked smile, as if he were doubting his own luck or his own drunken sanity.
He smiled, and there was humor, but also a quiet firmness. "Will you dance with me?"
Luna hesitated for a second.
The lights flashed in slow motion.
Victória, Nikoly and Lumine were standing behind, watching the scene as if it were the final of an international fashion show.
The three of them smiled like wolves.
Victoria made a heart with her hands.
Nikoly bit the straw.
Lumine simply nodded, as if to say, "Enjoy your crown."
Luna rolled her eyes, laughing, embarrassed.
But then he looked again at the man in front of him… and accepted.
"Okay… but I'm warning you that I'm a little out of rhythm."
"Great," he replied. "I hate choreography too."
The music rose.
And they came closer.
The man held Luna's waist with the delicacy of someone who knows the power he carries — and respects that of the woman in front of him.
Luna, in turn, let herself get involved.
She could still feel the alcohol, but now… there was something else.
Adrenaline. Sparks. Magnetism.
The bodies were approaching.
Then they walked away.
And they spun again, her dress opening like a whirlwind.
She looked at him and, for a moment, forgot about the club, her friends, the world.
Only him.
Only her.
Just the sound pulsing between the two.
From the corner, the three friends applauded silently, like fans of an unlikely couple who knew it would produce epic chapters.
Victoria laughed. "If this man survives his dance with Luna, he can now apply for citizenship on her planet."
Nikoly watched as if analyzing the man's microexpressions. "He's not just handsome. He has body control. Elegance. Probably royal nobility. But… different."
Luna, still involved in the dance, smiled with her eyes closed.
And he thought, "Okay… this one… isn't an idiot. And he dances well."
He opened his eyes.
He looked at her, still smiling.
"Hmm. That might be a problem."
The Prince, who until then had seemed impassive, was now clearly curious.
She danced as if she owed nothing to anyone.
And the look... that look...
It was not common.
He leaned in slightly, close to her ear—over the sound.
"What is your name…?"
Luna just smiled.
A lazy, enigmatic, and slightly drunken smile.
She kept her eyes on his, bit her lip… and said nothing.
The Prince arched an eyebrow.
He was used to being answered—with reverence, eagerness, or ambition.
Mas Ali…
There he was just another handsome guy trying to win over a drunk goddess.
"Not even a hint?" he tried again, chuckling lightly.
Luna approached with a mischievous look, as if she was going to tell a secret…
…and then whispered, "Do you like mysteries, nameless prince?"
He froze for half a second.
It wasn't a confirmation that she knew who he was.
But it wasn't just any question either.
"She knows… or she's bluffing."
Before he could say anything, Luna took a step back, spinning around, laughing with her eyes narrowed with alcohol and amusement.
Then he tried another angle. "Want to… go somewhere quieter? Talk more?"
Luna stopped in her tracks.
She turned slowly to him, arching an eyebrow.
"Like… a hotel room?"
The Prince almost choked.
"N-no! Not in that sense!"
He coughed discreetly, trying to regain some semblance of dignity. "I mean… another setting. Maybe a private lounge. Less noise."
Luna burst out laughing.
A crystal clear, somewhat uncoordinated laugh that drew glances from other groups around.
She took two steps toward him, placed her hands on the Prince's shoulders as if balancing the world, and said, still smiling, "Relax, Your Majesty. I'm just kidding."
And he blinked. "Maybe."
The Prince let out a breath of relief mixed with embarrassment.
But there was something new in his eyes now:
Admiration. Genuine.
And before he could answer, Luna turned back to the dance floor, tossing her hair with alcoholic grace and dancing again as if nothing had happened.
The Prince stood still for a moment.
Attending.
Then he took a step and followed her—now in silence.
No further questions.
Just dancing with that mysterious, drunk, and absolutely uncontrollable woman.
And in her peripheral vision, Luna saw the subtle alert in the corner of the Tycoon System hologram.
Warning: Interaction with a disguised royal. Hidden rewards available upon deepening the bond.
Luna thought mentally, "Let him sweat a little more."
And he smiled again.