Back at the grand ballroom, the air buzzed with conversation and music, but Mae remained in her own world, her delicate fingers wrapped around a crystal glass filled with rich wine. She took a slow sip, the burn of the alcohol dulling the sharp whispers she knew were about her.
She had always been the subject of rumors. Tonight was no different.
"They say she's beautiful, but maybe her personality is rotten."
"She's trying too hard. Why bother working when her father is so rich? No man wants a woman he can't control."
A small, knowing smirk played on Mae's lips as she swirled the liquid in her glass. The naivety of these women amused her. She had long since learned that being rich didn't mean you were free. It only meant people watched you more closely, waiting for you to fall.
Her gaze swept the ballroom idly until she caught sight of her brother entering with long, unhurried strides. He carried Claire in his arms, entirely indifferent to the stares and hushed gasps from the crowd
Mae tilted her head slightly, watching him with a wide smile—how cute. She then wondered how liberating it must be, to move without caring for the eyes that followed. To be so sure of oneself that nothing else mattered.
She was lost in that thought when a hand suddenly appeared in front of her, breaking her out of her reverie.
She looked up, her hazel eyes locking onto a pair of striking blue ones.
Levy.
He stood before her, dressed sharply, his presence exuding quiet confidence. His expression was unreadable, but there was something in his gaze—something unwavering, something steady.
"May I have this dance?" he asked, his voice smooth and even.
For a moment, she simply stared at him. Then, with a graceful nod, she set her glass down on a passing server's tray and placed her hand in his.
Levy led her to the dance floor, his fingers warm against hers. As they waltzed, his arm wrapped securely around her waist, pulling her just close enough to feel the steady rhythm of his breath.
Mae's heart pounded in response, betraying her usual composure. Her hazel eyes flickered up, meeting the intensity of Levy's gaze. His dark purple hair, tousled just slightly, swayed with each movement.
"You look beautiful tonight," he murmured.
A soft blush crept onto Mae's cheeks, but she didn't respond. Instead, she focused on the music, on the steps, on anything but the warmth in his voice.
After a few beats of silence, she finally spoke. "Why did you ask me to dance?"
Levy leaned in, his lips brushing just near her ear. "Is it wrong to dance with my friend?" His voice was teasing, but he emphasized my friend deliberately.
Mae hesitated before replying, her voice quieter now. "I guess not."
The whispers around them grew louder.
"Look at the Yu heiress, throwing herself at a mere assistant. How pathetic."
"He's not even an heir or a businessman—just Leon's right-hand man."
"She's too cheap to even know her place."
Mae exhaled softly. It was always the same—people waiting to see her fall, waiting to label her as desperate or foolish.
Levy's voice cut through the noise. "People never stop talking about you, do they?" His tone was light, but his eyes carried an intensity she couldn't decipher. "Wherever you go, you seem to gather a crowd of haters."
Mae chuckled, shaking her head."Just the usuals, Let them talk."
They continued dancing in silence, the music carrying them effortlessly until the final note faded.
Still holding her hand, Levy led her away from the dance floor. Their fingers remained intertwined, and Mae could feel her pulse racing. She hated this feeling—the way it unsettled her, the way it made her want to hold on just a second longer.
He had made it clear before. And she wasn't the type to set herself up for disappointment.
So, the moment they were far enough from the crowd, she slipped her hand away. "Thank you for the dance," she said quickly, her tone polite but distant. "I appreciate it."
Then, without waiting for a response, she turned and walked away, seeking the comfort of her grandmother's presence.
Levy stood still, watching her retreating figure.
His gaze softened when he saw her lean down to hug her grandmother, chatting happily with her father. But as the memories crept in, the small smile on his lips slowly faded.
He remembered the first time he had ever stepped foot in this mansion. He had been a 15 year old boy then, accompanying Leon for a school project.
That was when he met her.
A little girl, no older than ten, with golden-bright hair like the sun, had burst into the room, tears streaming down her face. As she yelled.
"MOM" she said wailing.
Alarmed, he had said, "Your mother isn't here."
The girl had looked up at him with tear-filled hazel eyes, the same ones that now avoided his gaze at all costs.
"Why are you crying?" he had asked.
Through sniffles, she had asked, "Who are you?"
"I'm Leon's friend."
At the word friend, she had wailed even louder. "Even Leon has a friend, but I don't! People hate me. They only pretend to like me because of my family!"
Levy had hesitated, then reached forward, pulling her into an awkward but firm hug. "Then I'll be your friend," he had promised. "Your best friend."
Mae had wiped her tears with small hands and tilted her head. "But you're Leon's friend."
Levy grinned. "I can have two friends. And besides, I'm just Leon's friend. But now I'm your best friend."
She had stared at him for a moment, then slipped her tiny hand into his and smiled. "Best friends forever. Promise me you won't leave me."
And he had promised.
She looked at him, ecstatic before her gaze fell on his hair and her eyebrows furrowed "you have weird hair" she had said.
"Did you dye it"
Levy smiled at her childishness "No, it's natural" he told her and she looked at him in awe.
"It's beautiful, I like your hair and your eyes too" she complimented and he had said the same.
The memories brought a feeling of nostalgia to his mind.
Looking at her now—distant, guarded, and avoiding his touch—he realized he had broken that promise long ago.
Now, they were just friends.
And that, somehow, hurt more than anything.
———
The next morning, Claire stirred awake, groaning as a sharp headache pounded through her skull. The sunlight streaming in from the window felt cruel, stabbing into her eyes like needles.
She pressed a hand to her forehead. "Ugh… my head."
A knock on the door made her wince. "Come in," she mumbled.
A maid entered, holding a tray. "The young master asked me to bring you this. Hangover soup and some medicine in case your head hurts."
Claire blinked. "Leon, where is he?"
The maid nodded. "He left for work a few minutes ago."
In truth, Leon had left earlier to avoid making her feel awkward if she remembered what she had said the night before.
Claire exhaled, rubbing her temples. She murmured a soft thank you before taking the pills and sipping the soup.
As the warmth spread through her body, flashes of last night resurfaced in her mind—dancing under the moonlight, the way Leon had held her close....
And then—
"I might fall for you."
Claire choked on her soup and nearly dropped the spoon.
She had said that?
Her face burned as she hurried to the mirror, staring at her reflection. "Why… why did I say that?"
She didn't believe it. She couldn't.
And yet, deep inside, she had voiced something even her sober self wouldn't dare to admit.
Later that morning, when she came downstairs, the entire Yu family was already gathered for breakfast.
"So, Claire," Old Man Yu began, sipping his tea with a smirk. "Did you enjoy last night?"
She stiffened.
"I saw how, after drinking, you let loose and even danced with my son outside," he continued, his tone playful. "And when you finally passed out, he happily carried you back to your room. How romantic."
Claire nearly dropped her fork. "I—I should've watched my alcohol intake…"
"Nonsense!" Grandma Rena waved a hand dismissively. "It was a festival. You were supposed to enjoy yourself, let loose for once. Everyone needs to have fun sometimes."
Claire thought bitterly as she sighed inwardly, Letting loose made her say some stupid and ridiculous things to Leon.
And she was never making that mistake again. She noted mentally.
But little did she know—some truths, once spoken, could never be taken back.
After breakfast, she hurried to her room, needing a distraction. Thankfully, she had an audition to attend.
She slipped into a floral flared dress that stopped just above her knees. The soft fabric swayed with her movements, the delicate pastel colors complementing her fair complexion. She paired it with simple earrings, keeping her look elegant yet effortless.
As she stepped out of the house, she noticed Mae also heading out, dressed in her usual sleek attire.
"Where are you off to?" Mae asked.
"I have an audition today," Claire replied.
"Need a ride?"
"That'd be great, thanks." She said as she got into the car along with Mae.
Once they arrived at the audition hall, Claire thanked Mae and watched her car speed away. Stepping into the hall, she spotted Laura standing near the entrance.
"Claire!" Laura waved excitedly as nudged Claire playfully. "So, tell me everything. How was the festival?"
Claire hesitated. "It was… eventful."
Laura's eyes gleamed. "Spill."
With a sigh, Claire recounted the events—how she got tipsy, how Leon danced with her outside, how he carried her back to the room. She left out the part about her embarrassing confession, but Laura wasn't an idiot.
"Oh my God," Laura gasped. "So, does that mean you subconsciously know you're falling for him but just can't admit it?"
Claire opened her mouth to deny it, but the words died on her tongue. Was she?
For a moment, she truly considered it. Then, shaking her head, she muttered, "No. I can't fall for him. I have a mission to complete."
Laura studied her for a moment before sighing. "Whatever you say." Then she rolled her eyes. "At least your festival went better than mine. My parents wouldn't stop nagging me—either for money or to marry some rich guy. It ended in another fight."
Claire frowned, sympathy washing over her, this was why Laura hated going home and would always spend the holidays or festivals with her and her mom Luna, but now things were different. "I'm sorry, Laura. You always deserve better than that."
Laura shrugged. "It is what it is."
The line for auditions moved quickly, and soon, Claire's name was called.
Taking a deep breath, she stood up.
Laura flashed her a thumbs-up. "You got this!"
With a smile, Claire stepped inside the audition hall.
The moment Claire entered, she bowed politely before looking up—only for her breath to hitch.
Seated at the long executive table, among the directors and producers, was a man she hadn't expected to see this morning.
Leon.
He wasn't just there. He was seated at the center, an air of authority surrounding him.
She had been trying to push thoughts of him away all morning, convincing herself that last night was just a result of alcohol. But now, seeing him in front of her, she felt a betrayal within herself—her heart skipped a beat.
When his sharp gaze met hers, the world around them seemed to blur for a second as her breathe hitched and her heart started beating nonstop.