If there was one thing I hated more than tax season, it was a corset.
I stood at the entrance of the Temple's Grand Ballroom, feeling like a sausage stuffed into five thousand gold crowns' worth of midnight-blue silk. My ribs were screaming, my feet were already pulsing in protest against my glass-heeled slippers, and the sheer volume of "Sacred Lilies" in the room made me want to sneeze.
"Smile, My Lady," Martha had whispered before I left. "You look like you're going to a funeral."
"I am," I'd muttered. "Hopefully not mine."
[ DING! ]
[ Event Started: The Saintess's Charity Gala ]
[ Objective: Plant the 'Ghost Ledger' in the Temple's Vault ]
[ Warning: Detection risk is High. Wear a mask—literally and figuratively. ]
I scanned the room. Through my monocle—now cleverly disguised as a decorative lace fan—the ballroom was a chaotic map of colors. The "Integrity Scores" of the nobility hovered over their heads like glowing price tags.
Most were in the 40s. The Prince was a steady 42. But in the center of the room, surrounded by a circle of adoring knights, stood Evelyn.
[ Target: Saintess Evelyn ]
[ Integrity Score: 12/100 ]
[ Current Thought: "The wine is cheap, but the donations are delicious." ]
She looked like an angel. White gossamer silk, hair like spun moonlight, and a smile that looked like it had been practiced in a mirror for a thousand years. She was the perfect asset—and a total fraud.
"Lady Seraphina! I am so glad you could join us," Evelyn said, her voice like honey poured over a razor blade. The crowd parted as she walked toward me. "I heard you had a... disagreement with Priest Malachi? Poor man is so stressed about the orphanage."
The surrounding nobles whispered. Disagreement? They meant the rumor that I had cursed a man of the cloth.
"Disagreement is such a strong word, Evelyn," I said, snapping my lace fan shut. The sound was like a whip-crack. "I prefer to call it a 'reconciliation of accounts.' I simply pointed out some clerical errors. He was so embarrassed he decided to take a sudden vacation."
Evelyn's smile didn't twitch, but her eyes—cold as a frozen lake—narrowed. "You've changed, Seraphina. You used to care so much about... shiny things. Now you seem obsessed with paper."
"Paper lasts longer than diamonds, Saintess. Especially when it has signatures on it."
I felt a heavy presence behind me before I heard him. The air seemed to chill, and the scent of cedarwood cut through the cloying lilies.
"Lady Seraphina is merely learning the value of her heritage," Cassian's voice rumbled.
He looked devastating in formal black military dress, his broad shoulders making every other man in the room look like a stick figure. He didn't look at Evelyn. He looked at me, and for a second, I forgot how to breathe.
"Grand Duke," Evelyn said, her voice dipping into a flirtatious pout. "Are you here to dance, or to guard our little Villainess?"
"I'm here to ensure the books are balanced," Cassian said, his hand moving to rest on the small of my back. The heat of his palm through my dress was a shock to my system. "Shall we, My Lady?"
He didn't wait for an answer. He led me onto the dance floor.
As we began a slow, sweeping waltz, I leaned in until my lips were close to his ear. "You're making a scene, Cassian. The Prince is currently trying to burn a hole through your head with his eyes."
"Let him look," Cassian muttered. He spun me, his grip firm. "Did you bring the Ledger?"
"It's hidden in my bustle. If it falls out, I'm claiming it's a very heavy hip-pad."
Cassian let out a sound that was almost a laugh—a low, rough vibration in his chest. "You're insane. If they catch you in the vault, not even I can stop the High Priest from executing you for sacrilege."
"Then don't let them catch me," I whispered. "I need three minutes of distraction. Can the 'Iron Blade' of the Empire handle a three-minute diversion?"
The music reached a crescendo. Cassian dipped me, his face inches from mine. In the violet light of my system-fan, I saw his Integrity Score flicker. It was rising.
"I'll give you five," he said. "But if you aren't back by the final chorus, I'm coming in after you. And I don't use keys, Seraphina. I use boots."
The music shifted. Cassian released me, and as he turned to engage the Prince in a "tense conversation," I slipped into the shadows behind a heavy velvet curtain.
[ Stealth Mode Activated ]
[ Time Remaining: 05:00 ]
My heart wasn't just thumping anymore; it was screaming. I was an accountant, for God's sake. I was supposed to be at a desk, not infiltrating a magical temple vault.
"Think of it as a late-night filing job," I whispered to myself, my heels clicking softly on the stone floor of the back corridor. "Just... with more death."