Lumine and Nikoly walked like two shadows of royalty among the chandeliers and columns of the gala hall.
The music in the background danced between the champagne glasses, but both were more interested in another kind of melody: the symphony of gossip whispered in the corners of the global elite.
"Over there in the corner," Lumine murmured, tilting her head slightly, "is Duke Gabriel von Rheinhardt. Do you know how many wives he's had?"
Nikoly, without looking, replied, "They say he changes women like wine: he only stays until it loses its freshness."
"The last one was an Austrian princess... she disappeared after her divorce. Literally. Her family sent her to an abbey in the middle of the Alps."
"Classic noble method: erase the scandal by sending the victim to the mountains."
The two gave a mischievous smile, without guilt.
"And that one over there?" Nikoly asked, surreptitiously pointing with his glass at a blond, tanned, and excessively perfumed man.
"Ah, Count Massimo della Torre. Italian. Handsome... until he opens his mouth."
"Why?"
"He was caught trying to bribe a minister by wearing fake jewelry. He thought no one would notice because it was 'too shiny'."
"My God," Nikoly muttered, "we're surrounded by diplomatic idiots."
Lumine glanced sideways across the room. "Speaking of idiot diplomats, there's Baroness Eliane de Sauveterre."
"The one with the gold dress?"
"Yes. He's trying to seduce the Northern Defense Minister just to get security contracts for his brother's company."
"She failed four times to get an official audience. Now she's trying to seduce his personal security chief."
"We have to give points for perseverance," Lumine commented mockingly.
Nikoly rolled her eyes. "At least she's more subtle than Lady Miranda."
"Which Miranda?"
"The one who calls herself a 'political influencer' and records videos giving her opinion on international treaties as if she were commenting on an episode of a reality show."
"Ah! The one who used a dog filter in a speech about a diplomatic crisis!"
The two burst into suppressed laughter.
Nikoly whispered through gritted teeth. "If this woman sat at a real negotiating table, she'd cause a war just by existing."
Between one sip and another of distilled sarcasm, the two's fun was interrupted by a different murmur in the room.
They turned their eyes toward the main entrance of the hall, where white and gold lights bathed the staircase like a stage waiting for its star.
"What was that?" Nikoly whispered.
"I think something, or someone, important has arrived."
And then they saw.
Victoria.
Entering with the firmness of a CEO, her heels clicking on the marble like declarations of war, and the look of someone who didn't even have the patience for the oxygen around her.
Accompanying her, holding her arm with a casual air, was a tall man with impeccably combed light brown hair and amber eyes that reflected the light as if they carried dulled fire. He wore a tailored suit of a dark gray, almost silvery, which emphasized the breadth of his shoulders and his aristocratic posture. His smile was polite, but... forced.
Nikoly and Lumine looked at each other.
Without saying a word, the look between them said it all: "Is this the idiot?"
The mental response was unanimous: "It's definitely the idiot."
Without wasting time, they both walked towards their friend.
But on the other side, Victoria was already at her limit.
"This man is a living metaphor for 'irritation with legs,'" she thought, her fingers tightening on the arm of her companion who seemed to be on a social tour, stopping to greet literally every person he passed.
"Oh, Count Weismann! What an honor to see you again! Ah, Duchess Clementine, radiant as ever!"
"You don't have to greet all the global grandparents," Victoria muttered through gritted teeth.
"Networking, dear. Diplomacy begins with a smile and ends with power," the idiot replied, still smiling like a robot trained by a LinkedIn coach.
Victoria forced a smile to avoid committing a crime of passion in the middle of the gala. "If anyone else interrupts my triumphant entrance, I'll impose economic sanctions against them myself."
And it was at that moment that she saw, walking towards them with sharp eyes and their dresses shining under the chandelier... Lumine and Nikoly.
'There you go. Here comes the court,' thought Victoria.
She straightened her posture, looked at the idiot beside her, and muttered, "Can you just smile and pretend to be helpful for the next five minutes?"
"With pleasure," he replied, still thinking he was killing it.
Victória smiled at her friends. "Girls... what a joy to see you."
Nikoly crossed his arms. "Is that him?"
Lumine just gave her a look that said, "Please say no."
Victoria sighed but held her smile with the same energy as someone holding a bomb with duct tape.
Beside him, the man extended his hand to greet Nikoly. "You must be… a friend of Victoria's. A great pleasure. I'm Liam Albrights, of the Albrights House of Argall County. And you are…?"
Nikoly stared at the outstretched hand as if it were a suspicious piece in an illegal auction.
"Nikoly Takahira-Hoshinami," she replied dryly, without shaking his hand.
Liam hesitated. His smile faltered half a millimeter.
She seized the opportunity. "One of the descendants of the Eastern Japanese imperial line. And where did you actually say you're from?"
Liam cleared his throat. "One of the most traditional families in Europe. Our investments have supported the arms industry and infrastructure of the last three governments."
"Hm. Fascinating," Nikoly said in a tone that meant the exact opposite of 'fascinating'.
Lumine then smiled, but it was the smile diplomats practice to defuse bombs with words. "I'm Lumine von Edelweiss. And I'm surprised they still allow marriage alliances between nobles without emotional consent."
Liam, visibly uncomfortable, let out a forced laugh. "Ah, these alliances are part of tradition. And tradition is the pillar of any lasting empire."
Victória crossed her arms. "Funny... tradition also used to imprison women for studying books. And now look where we are: me, trapped in this stupid tradition called you."
Silence.
Liam didn't answer. He just straightened his tie like someone trying to smother a fire with a wet napkin.
Nikoly and Lumine looked at each other and raised their eyebrows. "A direct hit," they both thought.
"Victoria," Lumine said, "we need to talk. About… alliances. In private."
"Sure," Victoria replied. "Liam, will you get me some more champagne?"
Liam hesitated for two seconds, but he went. After all, he still thought he was in control.
Once he was out of sight, the three of them walked away to a decorative fountain with golden koi swimming under delicate lights.
Victoria snorted. "He speaks as if every sentence were a quote from a book he's never read."
"He speaks as if every word has been reviewed by a committee of advisors," Nikoly added.
"At least it's pretty… in silence," Lumine tried to soothe.
"The worst part is that my father loves that idiot," Victoria muttered. "Because he plays the political game. But no one can stand to hear him talk for more than five minutes."
Nikoly looked at Victoria seriously. "Do you want this, Vic?"
"No," she replied. "But I don't want to start a family war now."
"If you want," Lumine said with a dangerous smile, "we can start the war for you."
Nikoly nodded. "Let us plant the seeds of social chaos at the ball. He'll stumble over it himself."
Victoria laughed. "You guys are mean."
"We're your friends," Lumine corrected.
And then the hall shook again. Not from sound, but from presence.
Eyes turned.
Murmurs arose.
There was Luna.
Pure, elegant, sparkling under the glitter of the crystal lights. Her high heels touched the floor like subtle bells. Her hair highlighted her flawless face and the blasé look of a billionaire bored with humanity.
Lumine was the first to see her.
"...My living gods," whispered the duchess, placing a dramatic hand on her chest.
"Luna Malroth... you have the audacity to show up like this and expect someone else to notice you?"
Nikoly turned her head, and her cold eyes widened for a moment. "I don't know what's more dangerous...that dress or her gaze. A goddess of beauty. Or perhaps a cosmic entity of debauchery."
Victoria crossed her arms with a cynical smirk, but she couldn't hide her pride. "You'd better take a look at the audience. Every man within a fifty-meter radius is drooling. Even that French duke who looked like a statue of ice... he's literally sweating."
The three friends chuckled softly, not out of envy, but out of pure, venomous sisterhood between female titans.
Luna stopped in front of them, raised an eyebrow with performative boredom, and placed a light kiss on each of their cheeks, like a queen greeting her favorite princesses.
"You guys look... decent," she commented with a lazy smile.
"Thank you, Your Supreme Highness," Lumine replied, bowing theatrically.
"This hotel is a hellhole far from my mansion," Luna said, looking around with distaste. "Seriously. I almost asked for a helicopter to get through the traffic. Can someone explain to me how New Yorkers live in this chaos?"
Victoria arched an eyebrow. "We'll explain after you admit you almost forgot about the gala."
Luna opened her mouth to retort, but then thought better of it and just... sighed. "Maybe."
Nikoly looked around. "Have you noticed? The women are sizing you up with hate in their eyes, and the men... with lust. It seems the Gala has become a parade exclusively for you."
Luna grabbed a glass of champagne from a waiter's tray as he flew past and took a leisurely sip. "I can't help but be the center of gravity of the planet."
"You can't," Lumine agreed, laughing. "But at least pretend you don't notice."
"Impossible," said Luna. "My perfection does not allow for humility."
The girls burst out laughing. And at that moment, the most feared and beloved alliance at the ball was officially reunited.