"Good evening!"
"Ah yes, you too!"
Ira was overwhelmed by the relentless flow of tedious chatter, reaching her breaking point. As a princess, she was accustomed to socializing, but this was beyond tolerable. How many more people could possibly need to talk to her?
Ira, looking for a way to escape the nobles, finally finds a way.
"Ah, sorry, I'm afraid my presence is requested on the dance floor!"
The nobles sighed in disappointment, their unending flood of insipid conversation only adding to the tension in the room.
"Ah, dance with me!" One noble said.
"Ah, fair maiden, will you do the honour of dancing with me?" Another noble said.
How could she not take this to thought? Of course, they would want to dance with her! If this keeps up any longer, Ira might injure a noble.
"I'd loved to, but-"
"She's dancing with me."
Ira looked back to see where this voice was coming from. He was tall, with jet black hair that fell in elegant waves, and he was wearing a luxurious outfit that seemed to be made of the finest silk and adorned with intricate embroidery. This guy isn't some ordinary noble.
But, at this point, she probably didn't have a choice. She'd quickly give this guy a dance, then make a run for the garden.
"Ah yes, come here!" Ira said.
The young man in black took her hand to the dance floor; Ira avoided all eye contact to lessen the awkwardness, but the man she was dancing with didn't take the hint.
"So, is this your first time in Iskandria?" Ira remarked.
"No, not really. My father always has business here, and I come along to see the unique architecture. I find it interesting, the way it could overwhelm me with its complexity and rich ornamentation." The young man explained.
"I see. Where are you coming from?" Ira asked.
With that question, the man only smiled while letting go of Ira, breaking the flow of the dance they had just had.
"I'm afraid I must tell you another time. If we meet, I'm sure to tell you more," the young man said.
Ira nodded in understanding, her curiosity piqued as she watched the young man leave the ballroom.
But, before he stops looking back at Ira, she is standing in the extravagant ballroom.
"If we meet again, will you do me a favour?"
"What is it?"
"I'll tell you if fate decides to make us meet again."
As the mysterious young man left, Ira couldn't help but feel there was a certain charm to him. No, an allure. This man clearly had made an impression on Ira.