There were a handful of moments in her life where she felt truly alive. One of those moments was holding her cat Jessie for the first time and staring into his blue eyes. The joy of having him near her was indescribable. She felt seen and loved by a cat who didn’t judge her and it was arguably the happiest moment in her life. She was certain that nothing in her life could compare to it.

That was until she waltzed with the Lord.

With her right hand clasped in his, they spin around the ballroom, leaving her breathless. She tells herself she feels like this because the dance required a lot of exertion. It had nothing to do with the fact that he had just confessed his feelings for her and said dancing with her was a great wish of his. No, the boy that she likes liking her back had absolutely no effect on her. None at all. It’s not like the way he’s holding quite literally makes her want to faint. She blames her dizziness on the spinning and the glittering chandeliers and tries to pretend she doesn’t feel like a fairytale princess. Anything to stay composed in front of someone as sophisticated as Cedric.

“For someone who says she’s a terrible dancer, you’ve only stepped on my feet twice,” he said. So much for keeping her composure. She trips, stepping on his feet for the third time. He winces, but covers up his grimace with a laugh, continuing to spin with her around the room. Neither of them wanted to stop dancing. So when the music ceased, they continued to hold each other, sweaty and tired but looking for any excuse to be with one another. They content themselves with staring into each other's eyes, watching each other's pupils dilate with pleasure. The feeling is electric. She had never felt so connected with someone, so bewitched. And it was positively intoxicating to see the same infatuation also reflected in his face.

The pair were so enamored with each other that when the music started up again, they almost forgot to dance. But soon enough, their movements were in sync with each other and they were twirling around the ballroom like any other couple. This time, when the music stopped, neither were tired. Wanting to dance some more, they sneak out of the room onto a secluded balcony. The sky was thick with clouds and the rain slammed against the building. Still, she drags him outside, getting both of them soaked. Taking the lead, she twirls him in the rain, standing on her tiptoes to guide him. He plays along, spinning beneath her fingers before grabbing her hips and pressing her against the edge of the balcony. His eyes linger on her lips and for a moment, her heart stops.

“Cedric,” she whispers, brushing his wet hair from his face. The cold rain should’ve frozen her to the bone but just being near him warmed her. It suddenly occurs to her how alone they were, how far away from the crowd down at the ballroom. Whatever they did would be unseen, a delicious secret between them.

He cups her face, his eyes filled with adoration. “Has anyone ever told you that you have the pinkest lips I’ve ever seen? They are only rivaled by the roses in my garden.” He traces his thumb over her lower lip, teasing her.

She arches her back, bringing her face closer to his, daring him to kiss her. His eyes darken at the challenge and she gulps, thrilled by the look on his face. He puts a hand behind her head, angling it towards him. She closes her eyes, waiting for the feeling of his lips on hers.

Thunder rumbles in the distance. He lets go of her, startled by the noise. Her eyes snap open to witness lightning crackle in the sky. He looks at her sheepishly, realizing how foolish it was to try to kiss her in the middle of a storm. She, on the other hand, was disappointed that he didn’t.

They walk inside awkwardly, neither willing to acknowledge what had almost happened. She shivers, realizing how soaked her dress was. Her gown weighs down her movement, slowing her gait. Next to her, the Lord strips, peeling off his wet clothes. She averts her eyes, blushing.

“Why are you taking off your clothes? That’s not a very proper thing to do in front of a lady,” she said.

“Neither was dancing in the rain,” he said. “But we still did it anyway.” His wet clothes slap the ground, squelching.

“You didn’t have to join me,” she said, knowing full well that she dragged him outside.

“I wanted to,” he said. She feels him shift behind her. She resists the temptation to look at him and keeps her eyes glued to a painting on the wall.

“Didn’t you bring me to this ball so that I could find a suitor? Why did you let us leave the ballroom?”

"You didn't seem very interested in any of the suitors. Besides, I wanted you to have fun on your last day here."

She smirks. "Balls aren't exactly my idea of fun."

"But you liked dancing with me," he said. "Even in awful weather."

That's because I like you, not dancing. Come to think of it, her feet ached.

"Say that again." His voice was closer now. She was almost certain he was standing directly behind her.

"Say what?" Then, it hits her. She had voiced her thoughts. "I didn't mean to say that out loud."

“I’m glad you did.” He whispers this, resting his head on her shoulder. “I wasn’t sure you had liked me back.”

“Even though we almost kissed?” Her question hangs in the air, adding to the tension between them.

Instead of answering, he plants a smoldering kiss on her neck, hot enough to forget the weight of her wet dress. She turns around, needing to see his face. He tilts her chin up, claiming her lips. They stay like that for a while, reveling in the taste of each other.

She giggles, his hair tickling her cheeks. Her arms wrap around his neck, closing the distance between them. Butterflies spring from her fingers, landing on the two of them. They touch her dress, sucking the rainwater out, leaving her and Cedric dry before vanishing into the air.

They pull away, watching the rest of the butterflies fly out the balcony. He tussles her hair, pulling her close. She tries not to let his shirtless state get to her or think about how solid his arms felt. She had enough dirty thoughts about him to fill the palace.

“Will that happen every time I kiss you? The butterflies?”

She feels a flutter in her stomach. There won’t be a next time, especially since it was her last day in the Charis Realm. The Lord must have realized this because he doesn’t press her for an answer. He silently puts on his clothes as she ponders her future. A pit forms in her stomach at the thought of having to go home.

They walked back down to the ballroom where the people were still dancing. Before they joined the people in their revelry, she grabs the Lord’s arm.

“I’m not ready to go back yet,” she said.

“Of course not. The ball is still going on,” he replied.

“No, I mean I’m not ready to leave this dimension.”

His head snaps towards her. It was everything he had wanted to hear. He wanted her to stay. There was just one small problem.

"You will die if you stay here," he said. "If my sister doesn't kill you, the Nefastus will."

"I'm not as delicate as you think I am," she argues. "I've held my own against the Nefastus."

"Don't you also have a goddess that wants you dead?" Not exactly. Ileana just wanted Lillian. The Mother couldn't care less about her mortal soul.

"Nothing I can't handle," she said, stepping onto the dance floor.

They waltz again, this time switching partners in a circle of dancers. With every switch, she found herself getting further from Cedric. At first, this didn’t worry her. Because they were dancing in a circle, she knew she would eventually find herself back in Cedric’s arms. But that moment never comes. The circle breaks and she finds herself passed from partner to partner, getting farther away from the center. She tries to break the grip of her partners and pleads with them to let her go.

None of them listen to her. Her cries fall on deaf ears. A horrible odor hits her nose, making her gag. She finally wrestled out of the grip of her next partner and found, to her horror, that none of the dancers were alive. Rotting flesh hung from the bones of the men surrounding her. Flies buzzed around them, feasting on the dead. Out of the corner of her eye, she sees a girl with red eyes watching them. At first, she thinks it’s Alice infiltrating the ball to hunt her. Her heart beats rapidly, remembering the torture she had forced her to endure. But Alice didn’t usually wear a head covering. Nor did she have bronze skin.

The girl snaps her fingers, causing the dead men to close in. She quickly shifts her bracelet into a sword, slicing through the ranks of zombies. She searches the crowd for Cedric, but all she sees are more hordes of the dead.

She cuts through more bodies, sprinting whenever they speed up to pursue her. Sometimes, she didn’t even have to use her sword. She shoves one of the zombies to the side, causing the dead bodies to topple like dominoes. But just as quickly as the bodies fell, more rose to take their place. It was like fighting a hydra, except she had no fire to burn their heads.

After much effort, she climbs the steps, making it to higher ground. She scans the ballroom, grateful for the birds-eye view. Zombies flood the ballroom, overtaking the living. Behind them, at the entrance, the Nefastus made their way through, sniffing the ground for blood. The Family was infiltrating the palace. But it made no sense. Weren’t they the ones that abandoned their titles? She continues to look at the ballroom, watching the dead corner the living for the Nefastus to feast on. She balls her hands into fists, sinking her nails into her palms. Guilt gnaws at her. This was her fault.

She finally spots Cedric shooting at a few of the Nefastus with his pistol, defending the remainder of the living. She makes her way to him, her arm aching from all the slashing.

“Nicole,” he said, relieved. “You’re alive. Look out.”

She ducks, his bullets striking down the Nefastus behind her. She moves to behead it, stalling its regeneration.

“I’m sorry,” she said, slicing at the monsters. “I caused all of this. If I hadn’t come here, no one would be in danger.”

“Blame the Family,” he replied. He fires his pistol again. This time, no bullets came out. He tosses his weapon at an incoming Nefastus, giving her enough time to cut off its head. She grabs his hand, dragging him away from the horde to a less crowded area. She sees a row of guards protecting the Queen and guides Cedric to them.

“I’ll go look for more survivors,” she said, letting go of his hand.

“Be careful,” he said.

“I will.”

She goes headfirst into the din, clutching her sword with an iron grip. She rescues a group of debutante ladies, getting her dress ripped in the process. Next, she herds a group of men towards them, assisting the guards in rounding up those who were still alive.

With no more stray people to feast on, the Nefastus targets the guards while the zombies weigh them down by pulling at their ankles. She yells for the survivors to flee the building, but it’s no use. More monsters and zombies blocked the doors.

Her legs shake. She wants to drop her sword and curl up in a ball. Pink stars fill her vision and she struggles to breathe. Still, she pushes forward, swinging her sword.

Just when she thinks she can’t go on any longer, something in her shifts. All of the exhaustion and despair she feels vanishes. Butterflies come out of her palms in droves, incinerating every monster and zombie they touch. For a moment, everyone stares at her, unable to believe their eyes. Then they come to their senses, leaving the palace through a path the butterflies created.

She looks for the red-eyed girl she saw earlier, but she’s nowhere to be found. It’s not until the butterflies leave and all the Nefastus and the zombies are destroyed that she allows herself to leave the palace.

Outside, the rain had stopped. She tears her veil from her head, tired from the fighting. She shifts her sword back into a bracelet, sliding the silver back on her wrist. She walks over to Cedric, grateful to see a familiar face. She embraces him, glad to see him unscathed. Rather than embracing her back, he clears his throat, tilting his head to the Queen next to him.

She pulls away from the Lord, curtsying to the monarch with the remainder of her skirt. “Your Majesty.”

“So you’re the butterfly girl,” the Queen said. “Get up. I want to get a good look of your face.”

She obeys, letting the Queen scrutinize her.

“You don’t have the red eyes of the Family,” the monarch said. “Yet you possess a magical ability.” She turns to Cedric. “Lord Philips, I think you should let this girl help you with the task I’ve assigned you.”

“She’s leaving for America soon,” he protests. “There’s no need to involve her.” It impressed her how smoothly he lied.

“He’s right, Your Majesty,” she said. “But I can stay a little longer if you need me to.” She wasn’t ready to leave the Charis Realm just yet. She had a debt to repay to the Lord. It felt irresponsible to leave, even if she was saving her own life.

The Queen grins, satisfied. “Excellent. For the past week, I’ve sent Lord Philips to investigate a series of murders that have occurred. Women, royal and poor, have lost their lives, but no one has found the killer. I have a suspicion that the Family is involved, but Lord Philips seems to think otherwise despite not catching our perpetrator.”

“I don’t want to put the lady in any more danger,” he argues, pointing to Nicole’s appearance.

“I can handle myself,” she retorts. “Trust me, I will solve this mystery.” It was the least she owed him.

The Lord sighs in defeat. “Very well then. You can help me catch the killer. But you leave for America once this murder is solved.”

“I promise,” she said. She wouldn’t let him or the Queen down.