Chapter 4.2

About halfway across the hall, the man turned to look at her. Anticipating his smug expression, Danielle ground her teeth internally. And she wasn’t wrong.

“Do you have business in the West garden?”

“Yes. And as for following you… that’s also true. Mind if I share the path?”

Danielle forced the most sociable smile she could muster, hoping to avoid further embarrassment. The man, however, neither smiled back nor nodded.

“I’ll have to decline. But since this hall belongs to His Majesty, you’re free to pass as you like.”

Wow. How rude. 

Suppressing her indignation, Danielle trailed the man’s chosen path. She snatched a glass of juice from a passing servant, stepped into a line of dancers for just two steps, and nearly lost sight of the man far ahead. 

How could someone sneaking around move so boldly in a straight line?

Then it happened. The music paused for a beat before shifting to a 3/4 waltz. In the distance, Cléran had already taken the hand of her second partner and begun twirling. 

Damn it. 

Danielle, in her haste, grabbed the man in front of her and clasped his hand. The cat-masked man recoiled in alarm, but she pulled him closer with more force. Now locked in the semblance of a waltz, the man protested in a low voice.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

“Don’t you know the rule? ‘Those who don’t dance at the summer ball face execution.’ We’re still within Her Highness’s line of sight.”

This statement, half-true and half-joking, was one of Princess Cléran’s infamous declarations. While no one was actually executed, many were dragged to the center of the dance floor to be mocked. The ridicule had grown so severe last year that it drew complaints from more reserved guests. In defiance of such “old-fashioned” critics, Cléran had gone so far as to host a masquerade ball this year. Anyone caught slacking off would undoubtedly have their mask removed first. On a mission, Danielle could not afford to have her identity exposed. Whether it was a cat or a dog, she had to keep dancing her way out of the hall.

“Still…”

“Do you want to be humiliated by Her Highness all night? You’re tall and well-built—she’d probably love that.”

The man, either stunned or resigned, fell silent. Danielle blamed not her crude words but the man’s naivety. 

Did he truly not know of Her Highness’s reputation? If he were from the capital, that would be impossible. If he were an outsider, that was suspicious, and if he were pretending not to know, that was even more so.

Danielle recalled the information about her contact for tonight. Her colleague Jermi had written it down in neat handwriting: “West Garden. Cat Mask.”

Seriously? At a masquerade ball, there were a hundred cats, seventy foxes, and twenty-seven clowns. How was she supposed to find someone with that? She had planned to sit in the West garden and interrogate every passing cat. Surprisingly, she might achieve her goal sooner than expected.

This overly naive—or pretending to be naive—man was likely her contact.

Danielle pulled their clasped hands, then pushed them away forcefully. The man instinctively caught her and spun her around. Her skirt, unburdened by a petticoat, flared briefly before settling. In that time, the two had moved closer to the hall’s western door.

Changing her expression entirely, Danielle whispered with a smile.

“You dance well. Did you learn just to sneak in here?”

“What exactly are you implying?”

His hands were polite, his steps skilled, but his tone was sharp. Danielle studied the man’s translucent tortoiseshell mask carefully. The brown tint of the mask made it hard to discern his eye color. His jawline was slender, and his lips were a pale pink… but his features were difficult to identify. 

Could it be…? 

Danielle frowned under her mask but quickly smoothed her expression.

“Who are you here to meet? Perhaps a masked lady?”

“All the women here are masked.”

“Oh, right.”

Taking the lead, Danielle directed their movements, and the man followed without resistance. A step to the left, a pull forward… Without a petticoat, her legs tangled slightly, and she felt the strength in his arms each time she tilted her body. With practiced ease, the man finally led Danielle out of the dance hall.

Danielle, though not as enthusiastic as Her Highness, enjoyed dancing. If not for the circumstances, she might have considered this an enjoyable moment… one she wouldn’t have wanted to end mid-waltz. But as they stepped into the dark outdoor corridor beyond the hall’s lights, Danielle, still holding the cat-masked man’s hand, ran toward the West garden.

“Hand over the item you promised.”

The West garden, though small, was dense with plants. The thick canopy of trees added to the humidity, mingling with a strangely sharp and sweet scent. Perhaps because it wasn’t ideal for stargazing like the East garden—or due to Cléran’s ominous warning—there were hardly any people around.

Well, that works for me. 

The moment they entered the garden, Danielle let go of his hand and abruptly demanded, ‘Give me the item.’ The man frowned under his mask but didn’t ask what item she meant.

“Do you intend to take the goods without offering payment?”

“Our client didn’t mention payment. Perhaps they plan to settle it elsewhere.”

“A client full of secrets, I see.”

Isn’t the standard procedure in such trades to hand over the item without question and part ways cleanly? According to the plan, she was supposed to be the one clinging to him if he tried to walk away. Danielle steadied her breath, still warm from the waltz, and instead filled the space with suspicion. The prediction that the contact would be someone impressive wasn’t hers alone—it was the consensus of the entire Royal Investigation Bureau.

Every smuggling route they had uncovered so far had involved merchants or nobles. At the very least, someone with a status that allowed them to blend into a royal ball without standing out… Who could possibly afford to use such a person as a mere contact?

“I’m just as curious as you are. But can’t we start with you handing over the goods?”

“What a shame. Even if I searched you, I doubt I’d find anything.”

Instead of the goods, her plea was met with a threat. Danielle, staring at the man who looked almost like a knight, quickly began to think. 

Could Jermi have brought back incorrect information? Had their investigation been compromised? Or was this all just part of a prearranged procedure?

The man in the tortoiseshell mask seemed to be scrutinizing her, as if he were the one doubting her. Danielle felt a cold sweat run down her back and instinctively took a step back. The man stepped forward, matching her retreat, and then advanced one more step. One more step, and he would be close enough to grab her arm… How had she even dared to dance a waltz with him earlier? She couldn’t fathom it now.

Danielle tried to replicate the same smile she had worn while dancing, though it was hard to hide the trembling corners of her mouth.

“I was only told to retrieve the goods. If you haven’t received payment yet, shouldn’t you tell me when and where it will be made?”

“My master is just as secretive as your client. I’m not sure how we’re supposed to bridge this gap.”

“Well, I don’t think standing this close is the way to bridge it… Could you step back a little?”

“If I do, you’ll run away.”

Of course, I would run! Though not before knocking him out and taking the goods…

But Danielle wasn’t sure if it was the right move to leave with only the goods and no information. What should she do if she couldn’t achieve both? As her mind raced uselessly, the man’s threatening presence steadily closed in. His shadow loomed ominously over her, far taller than Danielle herself. His voice, low and chilling, brushed against her ear.

“If you’re going to run, at least leave your name. Or…”

The man, now close enough to grab her, placed one hand firmly on her forearm while his other hand slowly moved in a different direction. From her arm, to her shoulder, to her neck, to her chin… Ah, Danielle’s face turned pale. He was reaching for her mask. The voice of the mage Ivan echoed in her mind.

‘By the way, if someone tries to pull it off from the front, it won’t come off. You could tell them it might tear the face off—that usually makes people back off.’

But she doubted this man was the kind to back off. Whatever she said, he wouldn’t let go. If she didn’t want him to touch it, she’d have to remove the mask herself or reveal her name… Sweat pooled in her clenched palms and dripped to the ground. There was no chance to push him away. 

Oh no, at this rate…

At that moment, a new shadow leaped behind the man. The dark figure moved so fast that its outline was barely visible. Unable to move, Danielle bit her lip to stifle a scream. The man, still holding her, was struck and rolled sideways. Danielle, her face buried in the man’s chest as they tumbled, tried to free herself and stand. But before she could, her vision spun again, and a sharp, earthy scent filled her senses. The man had grabbed the back of her head and pressed her into the dirt.

“Ugh… You bastard!”

The summer grass, thick and overgrown, scratched her face and stung her eyes. Danielle spat out the torn grass and raised her head.