The guard let me in after giving me a curious look.

Awkwardly, I walked in over the reflective white floor, feeling shabby amongst the other women that walked by in their elaborately tailored dresses. But none of them would've compared to the dress I wore at the Ceremony, not even close.

Self consciously, I strode in towards the main hall, but not before I had caught a glimpse of a massive chandelier in there. I felt very bare in my shabby dress as I approached the ball room. The women were dressed to their necks and wrists, since it was a cold night. I looked to my right and the moon peered down at me from one of the many tall windows. I bit my lip again, wondering if coming here was a mistake. Maybe I should've stayed at home-

"Excuse me!" someone cried after bumping into me. "Oh, I'm so very sorry."

I turned around and came face to face with a brunette, her hair hanging not below her shoulders. She had a soft, innocent look on her face as she apologized to me again, for bumping into me.

Confused and speechless, I muttered a reply and turned back quickly, not wanting her to look at me too closely. I had expected the girl to move on, but she came to stand by my side.

"What's your name, if you don't mind me asking?" she asked politely as she balanced on her heels. I didn't know what this girl's intent was, but her being so frank was suspicious. I took a better look at her and noticed how pretty her blue sequined dress was. It went well with her slightly grey eyes which had a tinge of blue in them.

"Ashli," I croaked out. "Ashli Rivers."

Her eyes widened and her mouth spread into a beaming smile. "That's so pretty! It's the first time I've heard the name 'Ashli'. Are you foreign?"

I shook my head and came to stand closer to the wall so that I wouldn't block anyone's way in the corridor. "No," I answered. "I'm from...around here." That's not a lie. I couldn't tell her I was actually Korean, could I?

"Oh." She seemed disappointed. "My name is Haziel Laurenette Aubellon. A pleasure to meet you. I love your dress! It's very similar to something my mother wore at a gala once."

I laughed awkwardly as I covered my cleavage with the lock of hair by my sides. I had been so distracted by the girl's initiation to conversate, I hadn't even given the ballroom a proper look. Now that I did, I was in awe. Haziel must have seen me gaping because from the corner of my eye, I saw her smile.

"Isn't it so beautiful?" she whispered. "This is my second time coming here."

"Oh?" I turned to her. "When was the first time?"

She shrugged. "My mum's wedding. We had it here."

I furrowed my eyebrows. I was confused. "You...You attended your own mother's wedding?"

She blinked at me, innocence and slight puzzlement all over her face. "Yes?" It was as if she had no idea what I was talking about. But then she suddenly understood why I was confused. "Oh! My stepmother, I meant. I've gotten used to calling her 'mum'."

I nodded. "Oh." Well, this was awkward.

She smiled sadly as she stared at her shoes. I, too, did give them a glance. They were sort of pearly and blue with a gorgeous blue flower on each toe. It made me feel unconfident about my own sandals.

"My dad killed my biological mother," she said suddenly.

For a while, my mind refused to understand the statement. Dazed, I stared at the floor while the wheels ran in my head, trying to make sense of what I'd heard.

"Pardon?"

She sighed as she stressed her arms over her head. "Come on." She grabbed my arm and tugged. "Let's go. We can't be standing near the walls if we want to be picked as the marquess's bride! We must make ourselves stand out!"

"W-Wait-" But my cry was of no avail since I was tugged away nonetheless. Haziel pulled me and walked over to the ballroom where women, younger and older than me, stood around chatting in groups. It seemed that the event was yet to start since people were still arriving.

"Haziel, I don't think-"

"Let's not be unsocial! We need to make others aware of such strong contenders as ourselves," she said as she turned to show me puppy eyes. "Come on, Ashli, be a dear."

I was very close to being persuaded. I knew what she wanted. She wanted to introduce me to others. I could see it in her eyes as she searched other faces. But that, my friends, would surely be a risk.

As I was pulled along, winding through groups of people, I noticed the decorations on every inch of the room. There were a lot of flowers, purple flowers. They were like those long purple things, what were they called... Ah! Wisterias. They were decorated along with some other white flowers (lilies?) in large vases. Maybe that was why the ballroom smelled like a flower shop.

At several instances, I was blinded by intense golden light coming from the many chandeliers in the ballroom. They were so beautiful, I couldn't help but stare up.

"Ah, I see a familiar face," Haziel called out to me as she slowed down. "Is this Wendell Alistair I'm seeing?"

She came to stop near a group of 7 women standing right in the middle of the ballroom, around the symmetrical mosaic pattern on the floor. Haziel narrowed her eyes as she looked at a specific woman in the group from afar and then beamed, her face lighting up.

"It is!" she exclaimed as she approached one of the women. "Wendell, Wendell Alistair," she said and tapped the shoulder of a noirette. From the back, she eerily reminded me of Elora, and I recoiled in horror.

The woman turned around- and against my expectations- she had a small, doll-face. Her large brown eyes looked at both of us with puzzlement and slight contempt which perhaps only I noticed. I wanted to get out of here.

"Um, who are you?" the noirette- Wendell - asked Haziel.

She seemed disappointed. "Don't you remember me?" she asked. "It's me, Haziel Aubellon. We met at the dressmaker's in town a couple days ago. We talked, remember?"

I could almost see the wheels turning in Wendell's head as she tried to remember, but I could tell it was no use.

"Um, yeah. I guess," she said eventually, with a haughty flip of her wavy hair over her shoulder. "Whatever." With that, she turned back to her girl friends and resumed whatever she had been talking about. The girls (after giving us both disgusted looks) turned back to Wendell and hung on her every word like she was the focal point of admiration.

Mid-talk, Wendell turned around to us and narrowed her eyes, her lips tilting down in a scowl. "You're still here?"

Haziel gripped my arm tightly and fidgeted with her dress by the other. "Um, I thought we could talk more? Let us in on the coversation, perhaps?"

There was a split second of silence. Then all 7 women burst out laughing. We got weird looks from every group and I hung my head in embarrassment.

"And why would we do that?" Wendell snarled out after a while of cracking up. "It's not like we're friends. And I don't talk to strangers, especially not those who dress in clothes that look like they were snatched from the homeless on the street."

I looked up and saw Wendell eyeing me. She looked me up and down once, then scoffed. At that moment, the red color on my cheeks was not rouge. I hung my head, but inside, I wanted to strangle that snake.

Haziel gave my arm a reassuring squeeze. "Well, why would you go and insult yourself like that?" Haziel said, with a tone I hadn't heard from her before. "Don't you think talking to yourself is weird anyways? You need to be furtive or else others might realize that you're a b*tch, which you so are."

With that, she turned on her heels and led me away.

I was quick enough in giving her a glance back to notice that her face was even redder than her dress. I couldn't keep in the satisfied grin which appeared on my face then. I must've seemed pretty happy because Wendull looked at me and her face twisted even more. Her girl friends looked likewise, but I could tell that they were amused.

Long-live good Comebacks!

.

.

.

"Phew!" Haziel sighed with relief as she drank a cup of water from the refreshments table. "That was nerve-wracking."

I leaned against the white sheet-draped table and observed her. She caught me looking and turned to look behind her as if she wasn't the object of my admiration.

"You really are weird," I muttered.

"Pardon?" she asked, pointing to herself.

I shook awake from my daze and looked around, confused. "Did I say that out loud?"

She laughed musically. "It's okay. I really thought Wendell would have a pleasant bone in her. She seemed like a nice person at the dressmaker, though."

I nodded as my eyes travelled over to Wendell's group. She had her back to us and had resumed talking. But every minute or so, one of her girl friends did give us a little peek.

"When's the event going to start?" Haziel asked as she looked around. "I want to dance!"

"I don't understand one thing," I said as I admired some dresses on a couple of passing by ladies. "There's only one of Marquess Huxley. Who will he choose? And will everyone stand around while he dances with one lady?"

Haziel shrugged as she put her water cup back down on the table and proceeded to fix the large bow attached to her waist. "As far as I know about Selection balls, the host of the ball is supposed to ask for the first dance with the woman he fancies best. Love at first sight, I suppose. The rest of the women are supposed to either spectate, or pray that he'll dance the next round with one of them."

I tilted my head. "That's it?"

She nodded. "Is this your first time at a Selection ball?"

"Well, yes," I agreed. "Is that supposed to be strange?"

She waved a dismissive hand as her bored eyes searched the crowd. "I don't think so. Most nobles don't do Selection balls anymore. They tend to marry a woman by the conventional method: by courting one they find fanciful at public events or something. Selection balls are only for the very rich, and are often frowned upon by those who deem them wasteful."

I nodded, starting to understand. "I see.." There was so much in this world that I had yet to get a grasp on.