Who would have known that such absolute beauty existed, beauty so great that even the most clichéd descriptions fall short?

Expressions like "hair as black as ebony" or "eyes that shine like freshly cut gems" usually signify objective, universal beauty. Yet here was Marion, her beauty so profound that no words could capture it. Clad in a pure white gown, she seemed to radiate a light that transcended all the dull, gray hues of the ballroom. The world appeared frozen, as if drained of color, leaving Marion as the only vibrant figure in a sea of monochrome. The ballroom's lights paled in comparison to her, and even the serenading strings were overshadowed by the sound of her delicate footsteps.

"Are you alright now?"

She smiled softly, her voice sweeter than nectar. Her hair, tied up with a few loose strands falling gently, added a touch of human charm to her ethereal presence. As one followed the gentle curve of her brow down to her perfectly shaped nose, an unearthly face came into view. Her fair cheeks, tinged with color, and her lips, full and poised, framed a pair of blue eyes that seemed to hold all the world’s oceans and skies.

As Marion gracefully made her way toward Maxime, ignoring the awestruck noble ladies around him, they couldn’t take their eyes off her. The hostility they had felt towards Maxime was now replaced with pure admiration, their expressions openly mesmerized.

"Yes, everything's fine now," Maxime murmured.

"I'm sorry, where were we? I seem to have lost my train of thought…."

The ladies, entranced, responded belatedly, and Marion simply smiled.

"Pardon me, but I have a small request."

Without losing her composed smile, she gently but firmly moved them aside, placing her hand on Maxime's arm. The ladies moved aside as if they were marionettes obeying her touch.

"Would you mind stepping away from my fiancé?"

On her hand, a sapphire ring gleamed, its brilliance previously hidden until she revealed it, now casting a glow that further heightened her presence.

"It seems wise to abandon any thoughts of claiming him as your partner this evening."

With a bewitching smile, Marion spoke, her words mesmerizing the ladies until they scattered, too overwhelmed to regain their senses until well after they left the hall.

"Now it’s a bit more comfortable, isn’t it?"

Marion tilted her head up to Maxime with a mischievous glint in her eyes. Maxime, meeting her gaze, found himself involuntarily holding his breath. Marion’s smile shifted from a cool elegance to one that was warm and endearing, as delighted sighs drifted around them from onlookers.

"Surprised, Maxime?"

He nodded, still processing what he was witnessing.

"Surprised doesn’t even cover it. I don’t even know where to begin."

Marion let out a soft laugh at his bewildered tone.

"It seems Christine kept her promise."

Remembering Christine's sudden disappearance, Maxime exhaled in understanding. Marion, watching his expression, carefully asked, "Would it be alright if I stayed by your side as your partner for the evening?"

Smiling back at her, Maxime reached for her hand, relief washing over him as he held it. Marion placed her hand over his, shyly.

"Are you fully healed?"

Marion nodded. Maxime continued to gaze at her, his eyes shifting between the awe of her beauty and the miracle of her restored skin. Perhaps even he couldn’t fully understand his reaction.

"I am fully healed, thanks to Christine… I owe her a great debt."

She spoke with a hint of playful irritation, and Maxime raised a brow at Christine’s mention.

"Christine?"

"Yes, she created the potion that healed me…."

Marion recounted how Christine, acting under orders from the king, had adapted a special potion for her scars. Although Maxime couldn’t quite understand why the royal family had taken such an interest, he accepted Christine’s assurance that it was classified.

"Still, I owe Christine a tremendous debt… I’ll have to find a way to repay her."

After a brief sigh, Marion steeled her expression. "But for now, I think helping the First Princess is the least I can do."

Maxime looked down at her hand tightly grasping his, and at the black mask she held delicately in her other hand.

"You won’t need to wear that mask again."

"Perhaps I will, from time to time—or I might keep it somewhere safe."

"It was a gift from you, after all," she murmured, prompting Maxime to chuckle.

"Speaking of which, why were you wearing it when you entered? Did the First Princess truly order that?"

"Yes. She commanded me to wear the mask until I met you, warning me that chaos would ensue if I entered unmasked."

"Looks like chaos is happening anyway."

Maxime chuckled as he surveyed the room. It was quite the scene—nearly every pair of eyes in the ballroom was fixated on him and Marion. Some noblemen were staring slack-jawed, prompting scolding from their partners, while other couples gawked in mutual admiration.

"This might be a bit problematic."

As he laughed, Marion looked up at him, her eyes gleaming playfully. Her expression radiated pure joy, eliciting admiring sighs from nearby guests.

"Are you feeling jealous, Maxime?"

"It’s a little embarrassing to admit directly when you put it like that."

Marion, her mischievous spirit evident, held his hand tighter, positioning herself right in front of him. His entire view was filled with her presence. Flustered, he turned his head, coughing lightly as Marion watched, amusement dancing in her eyes.

"I’d like to hear it… just once," she said.

How could anyone refuse such a request? Maxime looked at her, the anticipation shining in her blue eyes, her lips curled in a tempting smile. With a sigh, he finally admitted.

"Yes, I’m jealous. Jealous that other people are looking at you—that I’m not the only one who gets to admire you."

Marion’s face flushed crimson, but she didn’t turn away. Her joy was palpable, as if she glowed with happiness.

"I’m glad," she whispered.

"It’s alright if you’re the only one looking at me, Maxime. I don’t care about those wandering eyes. You’re the only one I’ll ever see."

Then, hesitantly, she leaned forward, resting her forehead gently against his chest. Maxime could feel the determined gazes around them. Yet, to him, the nobles’ petty ambitions were no more bothersome than a gentle breeze.

"Thank you, Marion," he said softly. Marion leaned closer, her voice a quiet murmur, filled with gratitude.

"Thank you, too."

The music in the hall changed subtly to a dance melody, and couples began to gather on the floor. The sight was a splendid one, with nobles moving gracefully, their partners in hand, following the rhythm of the waltz.

Marion, still leaning into Maxime, glanced at the dancers with admiration. The swirling colors of the ladies’ gowns, like butterfly wings, fluttered across the floor. She let out a small sigh of awe, yet stayed close to Maxime, as if she were nuzzling up to him.

"It’s beautiful, isn’t it?" she said.

Maxime gently raised her hands, leading her into a simple dance. Although they only took a few steps together, their movements carried an elegance that captivated those watching.

"This is my first time dancing," Marion admitted, looking up at him. She followed his lead with an awkward step here and there, and Maxime slowed down, giving her time to adjust.

"You’re quite skilled, Maxime."

Maxime’s response was a bit sheepish. "I’ve only danced once before—a long time ago."

Marion's eyes questioned him, but, sensing she could guess, she didn’t press further.

"Well, it doesn’t matter now," she whispered. "I’m dancing with you, and that’s what counts."

They continued to move in silence, following the gentle melody, their eyes closed as they savored the moment.

"Sometimes," Marion said softly, her voice distant, "I wonder if this is all just a dream."

Maxime halted, gazing down at her. She wore a bittersweet smile.

"Even though I know it’s real… happiness, it seems, brings its own sort of anxiety."

Maxime couldn’t offer a response. He simply held her, waiting beside her until she dispelled her shadows, ensuring that this moment was as solid and real as the warmth they shared. Tenderly, he cupped her cheek, his golden eyes meeting her surprised gaze. Marion lifted her hand, pressing it over his.

"I’m here," Maxime assured her with a voice filled with unwavering conviction. Marion’s eyes shone with unshed tears as she nodded.

"Yes, Maxime."

"I’m not going anywhere. So don’t look like that."

Marion buried her face in his chest again, and Maxime softly stroked her hair, reinforcing his presence beside her.

The orchestra’s tempo quickened, and a servant approached with caution, trying not to intrude on their intimate moment.

"Lady Marion, the First Princess requests…."

Marion’s time in the ballroom was ending. She clutched Maxime’s sleeve, hesitant to part, and then signaled him to lower his head.

"What is it…?" he asked, thinking she was about to whisper something. Instead, she rose on her toes and planted a kiss on his cheek. The soft warmth lingered, and Maxime’s eyes widened in surprise as she blushed deeply.

"Let’s continue later," she said with a radiant smile, lifting her mask back onto her face as she walked away, leaving Maxime to watch her go with a bittersweet smile.