The air inside the gala hall buzzed with life. Voices floated through the grand space in a symphony of laughter, polite exchanges, and the occasional burst of clinking glasses. Beneath it all, a classical orchestra played in the background, their music swelling and dipping in perfect harmony with the rhythm of the evening. The chandeliers above cast their golden light across the gleaming marble floors and extravagant decor, illuminating everything in a soft, regal glow. It was the kind of beauty meant to distract and impress, to set everyone at ease while the real games played out beneath the surface.
To Seventeen, it was all noise. Every word, every laugh, every sparkling chandelier was a carefully constructed facade. Distractions meant to dazzle the less perceptive. She moved through the room with ease, her steps measured, her expression calm, warm even. Serena would be warm. Serena would be the kind of woman who seemed genuinely thrilled to be invited to such an exclusive event. But inside, Seventeen's mind worked tirelessly, analyzing and observing.
The heirs had gathered now, forming a loose circle in the center of the room, their presence drawing attention without effort. They were the Zodiac Archipelago's elite, the kind of people others couldn't help but watch, even from a distance. Their movements, their laughter, their very presence carried weight. It was a performance in itself, even when no one was trying.
Claus Villareal stood at the center of it all, as he so often did. The prince of Leo was in his element, spinning tales of royal banquets, thrilling hunts, and the extravagance of life in Imperious. He spoke with a practiced ease, his golden hair catching the chandelier's light like a crown. Every smile, every gesture was perfectly timed, designed to captivate. People gravitated to Claus naturally, as if he were the sun in their orbit.
Seventeen stood just at the edge of the group, a polite smile fixed on her lips as Claus entertained them. She nodded along to his story, her laugh soft and measured at just the right moments. Serena would be captivated. Serena would hang on his every word. And so, Seventeen played the part effortlessly. But beneath that carefully crafted exterior, her mind was working, every detail of the scene being filed away.
Claus is obvious, she thought, letting her gaze shift subtly to the others. His charm is his weapon, but it's also his weakness. What about the rest of them?
Light Valiant was the easiest to read. Even if Seventeen hadn't been watching her, the Aries heiress's impatience practically radiated off her like the heat of a fire. Her arms were crossed, her jaw tight, her expression bordering on annoyed as Claus continued his tale. She was here, but not by choice. Light didn't care for small talk or pointless chatter; her energy demanded action, purpose. The restrained elegance of the gala didn't suit her.
Seventeen shifted slightly, just enough to mirror Light's stance without making it obvious. She didn't look at her directly—people like Light didn't respond to overt attention—but the subtle mirroring was enough. A silent acknowledgment. You're not alone in feeling out of place. It was a small trick but an effective one. Understanding someone without words often spoke louder than any compliment could.
"And then, of course, there's the royal ball," Claus was saying, his grin as radiant as ever. He spread his arms slightly, as if to encompass the sheer grandeur of the event he described. "The highlight of Imperious. You'll all be invited, of course. And we'll have to make sure Serena gets an invitation as well."
Seventeen's soft laugh escaped her lips, perfectly rehearsed yet effortlessly natural. "Oh, I couldn't possibly—"
"Nonsense!" Claus interrupted, his voice warm with practiced insistence. "Anyone with your talent belongs at events like that. In fact, I'd say you're already fitting into Zodiac society better than most newcomers."
The others murmured vague agreements, their attention flickering back and forth between Claus and Seventeen. She didn't miss the way Hunter Hart raised his glass slightly, an almost imperceptible gesture that seemed to acknowledge the performance they were all a part of. His smirk was lazy, almost indifferent, but his eyes were sharp, taking in everything even as he pretended not to care.
Hunter, she noted silently. Pretends to be aloof, but he's watching just as closely as I am.
Across the group, Amelia Saint-Montclaire and Sablina Wysdomleaf stood slightly apart, their conversation quiet but steady. The Capricorn and Virgo heirs were less overtly commanding than Claus or Light, but their presence was no less significant. Amelia's posture was confident, her words measured, while Sablina carried a quiet grace that made people lean in to catch her every word. Together, they seemed to form their own small world, separate from the larger group, yet intrinsically tied to it.
And then there was Draco.
Seventeen's heart skipped a beat at the mention of his name. Light had spoken, her tone sharp and direct as she turned to glance toward the entrance. "Speaking of invitations, where's Draco? He's supposed to be here, isn't he?"
The words hung in the air for a moment, drawing the group's attention. Even Claus paused, his charming facade flickering ever so slightly. Seventeen didn't move, didn't look toward the door. Not yet. Instead, she let her gaze linger on Light, as though waiting for someone else to answer. But her pulse quickened, the mere thought of Draco sending a sharp thrill through her.
["He is here, didn't they notice? In the shadows of this place. I can feel his gaze burning the back of my head."]
As if summoned by Light's words, he appeared. Draco de Lavissaye stepped into the room with an effortless confidence that drew every gaze, even those trying not to look. He moved with the kind of controlled grace that spoke of power—power that didn't need to be announced because it was simply understood. His dark suit was impeccably tailored, each detail carefully chosen, but it wasn't the clothing that commanded attention. It was him. His presence. Quiet. Calculated. Dangerous.
Seventeen let her gaze flick toward him, just for a moment, before looking away again. Her expression remained composed, her smile soft and pleasant, as though she hadn't noticed him at all. But she had. Every step he took, every glance he gave the room was burned into her memory.
Draco. The most dangerous piece on the board. The one who could ruin everything if she wasn't careful.
She allowed herself one deep breath, hidden beneath the gentle rise and fall of her shoulders. This was the game she had chosen to play. And tonight, it was just beginning.
Draco's gaze swept over the group like a cold wind cutting through a crowded room, assessing everything with the precision of a predator sizing up its prey. For a split second, it lingered on her, and Seventeen felt it—a charge in the atmosphere, sharp and electric, like a storm about to break. She didn't move, didn't let the mask of Serena falter. But in that brief moment, she could have sworn he saw through it, through her.
Her smile didn't waver. Soft, unassuming, painted with just enough curiosity to seem innocent. She tilted her head ever so slightly, feigning oblivion to the weight of his stare, as though she hadn't noticed his arrival at all. ["Let him come to me,"] she thought, the words threading through her mind like silk. ["Let him make the first move."]
Light's voice broke the tension first, sharp and impatient as she uncrossed her arms and stepped forward to meet Draco as he approached the group. "About time you decided to show up," she said, the irritation in her tone unmistakable, crackling like embers catching a fresh wind. "Claus was just about to invite us all to another one of his royal parties. You missed the riveting details."
Draco raised an eyebrow, his expression a mask of cool indifference. "I'm sure we're all thrilled," he replied, his voice dry, his words laced with sarcasm. The tone alone was enough to cut through the superficial pleasantries hanging in the air, making it clear that, no, he wasn't excited in the slightest.
Seventeen suppressed a smile, letting the corner of her lips curl just slightly. ["Sarcastic. Distant. Just as I expected."]
Claus chuckled, his polished charm unshaken, as if Draco's remark were a minor inconvenience rather than a direct barb. "Always a pleasure, Draco," he said smoothly, his voice warm and effortlessly gracious. "Glad you could make it. Really adds to the atmosphere."
Draco didn't bother with a response. His gaze, cool and calculating, was already moving past Claus, sweeping over the rest of the group with clinical precision. When it landed on Seventeen, it stayed there for a fraction of a second longer than on anyone else. Long enough to notice. Long enough to feel. She met his eyes briefly, just long enough for her own gaze to seem accidental, before dropping them with a flicker of shy hesitation. The perfect touch.
["Let him wonder,"] she thought, her mind sharpening like the edge of a blade as she wove the threads of the moment into something delicate yet unbreakable. ["Let him doubt."]
As the others resumed their conversations, Seventeen allowed herself to take a small step back, enough to fade into the background but not disappear. She needed space to observe. To think. She leaned on Serena's softness, keeping her posture relaxed, her expression a picture of warmth and gentle curiosity. But inside, her thoughts raced, her observations compiling into mental notes with every glance, every shift in body language.
Light and Draco stood slightly apart now, speaking in low voices. Their dynamic was clear—two sharp-edged personalities colliding, each too stubborn to back down. Strong, driven, purposeful. They didn't waste time with masks or pleasantries.
Claus, on the other hand, was still commanding the attention of those willing to listen, his charm a carefully honed weapon. Open, eager to please, his polished charisma gleamed brightly, but his belief that it was a universal solvent made him predictable. Too predictable.
Hunter lingered at the edges of the group, glass in hand, his smirk a lazy curve that spoke of amusement and detachment. But Seventeen had seen the way his eyes flicked over the room, sharp and calculating beneath the mask of nonchalance. ["Not as indifferent as he wants everyone to think,"] she thought.
And then there were Amelia and Sablina, their quiet whispers barely audible above the ambient noise of the gala. They shared a bond that insulated them from the larger group, their interactions measured, deliberate. Calculating, but in a different way.
Finally, there was her. The healer. The bubbly newcomer. The girl who didn't belong in their world of power, manipulation, and masks.
Or so they thought.
Seventeen suppressed the urge to laugh, her amusement flickering beneath her carefully maintained exterior. ["They think I'm Serena. The kind, awkward girl trying to find her place. They don't know what's coming. Let's keep it that way, I have time."]
Her gaze drifted back to Draco. He was speaking now, his voice low and controlled, his body language steady and measured. Everything about him radiated restraint, like a predator lying in wait. Even as Light pressed him with sharp remarks, his composure never cracked.
He was on guard. Always.
Seventeen's mind sharpened further, and a quiet resolve settled over her like armor. Draco was the most dangerous piece on the board. The one she couldn't afford to misstep around. The one who could unravel her plans with a single move if she wasn't careful.
But that also made him the most valuable.
She had time. She always had time. But the seeds needed to be planted now. Carefully. Deliberately.
Stepping forward, she let her expression shift slightly—open, approachable, unassuming. The perfect blend of curiosity and warmth. "Draco, right?" she asked softly, her voice carrying just enough hesitation to seem genuine. She tilted her head, letting her smile widen slightly. "I've heard a lot about you."
His eyes flicked toward her, the intensity of his gaze enough to send a ripple through her composure. She held steady, keeping Serena's persona firmly in place.
"And you are?" he asked, his voice steady but edged with cool detachment.
["Okay, let's pretend he doesn't know me."]
"Serena D'Angelo," she said, adding a soft laugh for effect. She extended her hand, her movements smooth and unhurried, as though the gesture itself carried no weight. "I'm new in the city. Just started at the hospital."
Draco didn't take her hand. The silence that followed stretched taut between them, thick enough to cut. Seventeen didn't flinch. She simply held her position, her smile soft, her eyes steady.
After a moment, he nodded slightly, his acknowledgment clipped and deliberate. "Welcome to Downtown Zodiac," he said, his tone polite but distant, as though the words themselves were a mere formality.
The tension didn't ease as he stepped back into the conversation with Light, but Seventeen didn't mind. In fact, she preferred it this way. Tension meant attention. And Draco's attention was exactly where she needed it to be.
"Thank you," she replied, her tone warm, almost sincere. But underneath her calm exterior, her mind was already racing, calculating every detail of the interaction. She studied Draco's face, noting every flicker of emotion, every shift in his posture. ["He's testing me,"] she thought. ["Let's see how far this goes."]
Light, clearly uninterested in the exchange, offered Seventeen a half-hearted smile before excusing herself and turning away to rejoin Claus. As Light walked off, Seventeen felt her attention snap back to Draco, locking onto him with a sharp focus. This was the moment—this was the perfect opportunity to gauge him further.
"You're not much of a talker, are you?" she asked, her voice light and teasing, but beneath the playful tone, there was a calculated edge. She had to sound casual, like she wasn't overly invested, yet her words were carefully chosen. "I can respect that."
Draco's eyes narrowed slightly, the movement so subtle that most would miss it. His expression remained guarded, his lips pressed together in a thin line. Seventeen could almost hear the gears turning behind his steely gaze. He was sizing her up, just as she was doing to him. But he didn't speak, his silence hanging thick in the air between them like a wall.
She tilted her head slightly, maintaining eye contact, studying him with a thoughtful look. After a brief moment, she continued, "I've always found that the quiet ones are the ones with the most interesting things to say. When they decide to speak, that is."
His gaze hardened at her words, and the silence stretched on. But Seventeen wasn't discouraged. She could feel something just beneath the cold, controlled surface of Draco's demeanor. There was something hidden away in him, locked up tight under layers of defense. She could sense the turmoil beneath the calm, the secrets he wasn't willing to share. ["I'll get there,"] she thought, her resolve hardening. ["But not tonight. Tonight is just the beginning."]
She flashed him another smile, one that was bright and unassuming, deliberately easy and disarming. "It was nice to meet you, Draco," she said with a hint of sincerity, though her words were laced with an underlying challenge. "I'm sure we'll see more of each other."
Without waiting for him to respond, she turned on her heel, her movements graceful but purposeful as she walked back toward the rest of the group. She could feel his gaze on her back as she moved away, could almost hear the thoughts swirling in his head, wondering about her. She could feel the tension between them, thick and palpable, but she didn't let it break her stride. ["Let him think about it,"] she mused.
As she rejoined the group, Claus greeted her with an easy smile and handed her a drink, the same drink he had for himself. She recognized it immediately—the Royal Flame, one of the most famous cocktails from Imperious, the Lion district. The fiery blend of whiskey, cinnamon syrup, and ginger beer, garnished with a candied ginger slice, was as bold as it sounded. It had a distinct reputation in the Zodiac Archipelago, known for its potent combination of flavors and its connection to royalty.
"You survived Draco's icy stare," Claus joked, handing her the drink with a smirk. "Most people don't get past a hello."
Seventeen laughed softly, a melodic sound that hid the thoughts racing through her mind. She took the Royal Flame from him with grace, her fingers brushing against his for a moment longer than necessary. "Oh, he wasn't that bad," she said with a light chuckle, keeping her tone playful. "I've met worse."
Claus raised an eyebrow, clearly impressed by her nonchalant response. "You're braver than most, then," he remarked, his voice tinged with genuine admiration. He watched her for a beat longer, as though gauging her reaction, before taking a sip of his own drink.
Seventeen's smile remained in place, but her thoughts were already elsewhere, spinning like a finely tuned machine. She tasted the cocktail—strong, sharp, and slightly sweet—its heat spreading through her chest in an instant. But it was the least of her concerns. Her mind was sharp, calculating, and focused on the task ahead.
Each of them—the group of people gathered here—had their own vulnerabilities. Their weaknesses. And she intended to exploit them all, piece by piece, one by one. Seventeen was no fool. She had learned long ago that the key to navigating any game, any power struggle, was to understand the players before making a move.
Claus was eager to please, quick to laugh and flatter, but he lacked the depth to see the true nature of the others. Light, on the other hand, had an edge—a sharpness beneath her seemingly casual demeanor—but Seventeen could sense there was more to her. Hunter was the most difficult to read, pretending indifference but always watching, always assessing. Amelia and Sablina shared a quiet bond, their connection subtle but undeniable, hiding behind a shared understanding that few others could see.
And Draco. Draco was the most intriguing of them all. The silent, brooding figure who carried the weight of a thousand secrets. She could feel the danger he presented, the way his presence stirred something inside her, something she hadn't fully understood yet. But one thing was certain—he was a challenge, and Seventeen thrived on challenges.
Tonight was just the first step. The beginning of a game that would span days, weeks, maybe even longer. The real game, the one that would require every ounce of cunning and strategy she had, had only just begun. And she would play it to perfection.
As she took another sip of her drink, her eyes drifted over the group once more, taking in every gesture, every word, every subtle glance. She was already in motion, already weaving the web. And Draco, she knew, would be the most fascinating thread of all.