"Come again soon!" Waving her arm, the shopkeeper called in the distance.
With your free hand, you returned the wave. "Will do, miss!"
Too big to fit in the satchel bag hung around your shoulder, you fumbled with the shopping bags until one was in each hand.
"Hey, Ash, could you-" Before you could finish your question, the mass disappeared from your hands in one swoop. You turned your head to thank him and opened your mouth until you saw it. That look in his eyes as he stared ahead. Distant yet it was as if the hazel rings were obscured by fog.
'What is he daydreaming about? Probably how he's going to look 'so good' in his fancy blazer that will make all the ladies fawn over him,' You snickered. But an unknown force made you peer closer into those pupils. Upon noticing how devoid they were, you realised that it could not be a simple daydream.
Instinctively, you shook your hand in front of his face. "Earth to Turnip, you still alive?"
With a few blinks, the chilly look disappeared and was replaced by a dopey smile. "I believe I am. If I were dead, I'd be the last one to know about it."
You ignored his lame attempt at humour. "What's the time?"
"Hm? Oh, um..." Asher looked up at the sky for reference, only to be reminded of the seemingly endless night. "No clue, but it's been a few hours."
"Then let's get going. Back to our rooms and in our fancy dresses we go-"
"Wait!" Ruth shouted from far behind you. "Come back!"
Exchanging looks, the two of you returned to the shop at a faster pace with apprehension hanging in the back of your minds. Upon reaching her, you made out the creases on her forehead and straightened lips.
"What happened? Did we forget anything?"
Ruth's grimace switched into a childlike grin. "You forgot to choose your shoes."
It had been around 10 minutes since you and Asher left the hotel room in your party wear. At least, it felt like 10 minutes - you really needed to get a watch. Now ambling through the cobbled path, leading straight to your destination, you noted the extravagantly gowned couples scattered along the same path and similarly gravitating towards the same landmark. Said couples gave you two apprehensive or dirty glares, but you paid no mind.
No, you had no mind to pay, for it went broke from entertaining itself with the growing ache around your torso.
Your hips surrendered to the suffocating grasp of the dress' bodice. With every breath came a brief wave of pain, paired with a drop in your self-esteem. Pinching the sides of the fabric didn't help, owing to the lack of elastic, nor did rotating your abdomen in a desperate search for comfort.
'Oh come on, the dress wasn't this much of a bitch just a few hours ago! I haven't even eaten anything since then. My metabolism can't be that bad, right?'
Tilting your head to the side, towards your reporting partner, you attempted to telepathically communicate your suffering through an intense gaze. As if he had invisible antennae that detected your corporeal calls of distress, he turned to you. "What is it?"
"I think," you choked, whilst halting your gaze and barely maintaining your balance. "I'm going to die."
Alarm bells rang in the boy's head as he attended to you in an instant. Dismissing the trembles that arose from the closed distance, he carefully analysed the bodice, during which he kept his gaze within modest boundaries. His eyes caught the overly tightened lace on your exposed back and, automatically, his hands reached up to loosen them. Fiddling with the laces, his fingers gingerly brushed over your soft skin as shivers coursed through his body.
"Hoooh, thank you. That feels so much better! What did you do?"
"Uh-"
"Oh my god, it was the laces right?" You garrotted a throaty cough. "I knew I shouldn't have-" Another cough swallowed your sentence.
"You okay? Wait, I have water in my bag." Asher clumsily shrugged off the shoulder straps and knelt to inspect his backpack's contents, all while you kept hacking in brisk intervals.
"Pardon me, but are you quite alright?" Another familiar voice spoke behind you, as a strong hand firmly patted your back.
To your relief, the ugly noises died down when you cleared your throat. "Better than ever, Mr Gatekeeper." You turned around to face the man, now in a neat suit instead of his ragged cloak, and beamed a smile. "Thanks for your concern."
The faint trace of a worried expression soon morphed back into jaded hooded eyes and pursed lips. "Oh, it's you. Glad to see you made it in time."
'Made it?' Underneath your simple blue half-inch heels, you now noticed what seemed like the starting point of a red carpet, intricately adorned with golden borders. Following its trail, you were met with the grand entrance of the Council building, the base of its stairs just a few metres away from where you stood. 'Ah, must have been so absorbed with my dress that I didn't realise we were here.'
"Here's your water." A small water bottle, filled to the rim, was thrust towards your face.
"Ah, I'm okay now. He helped, in a way. Mental support is always appreciated."
"Who helped?" Asher flickered his gaze to the aloof man behind you and his grip on the bottle visibly tightened. You heard the crinkle of plastic under his long fingers. "Good evening," he said in a low voice, as a strand of hair fell over his eyes.
The three of you followed the carpet's trail in silence, with the two men on either side of you.
A faint sense of unease befell you once again, and your dress was no longer the cause.
(Right click the above video and press 'Loop' for the best reading experience)
"Here we are." Emilio knocked twice on the door and, on cue, shuffling could be heard from the other side.
A gust of wind blew against you as the grand doors at the end of the carpet opened.
The area around you was bathed in dazzling gold and the harmony of romantic violin chords with a hint of glockenspiel blessed your ears. With the clack of heels against the marble floor, you entered deeper into the grandiose building.
Clinks of wine glasses and a blur of murmurs permeated the area, with masses of lavishly dressed people taking up most of the space around you. The scent of cologne and expensive perfumes slammed against your nostrils in an aggressive riot and caused hot tears to well up in the brims of your eyes.
Emilio tapped your shoulder. "I'll let my Lord know of your attendance. In the meantime, stay around this area and don't enjoy yourselves too much." Momentarily, the edge of his mouth tugged upwards into a cheeky grin. "But, in case anything happens, I have the same remedy I gave you on the day of your arrival."
Your eye twitched. "I don't drink, let alone get drunk."
"Acceptance is the first step to recovery." With that, he disappeared into the crowd.
"But I really don't-!" You sighed. "Might as well check out the food. You coming?"
"Sure." Asher cleared his throat, yet his stupid grin still pulled at his lips as he spoke. "But, as your partner, I'd advise not to go anywhere near the bar." He let out a snort.
You left without waiting for him.
The closer you got to the food table, the tighter the spaces were between people, through which you had to squeeze through. Finally, as you outstretched your arm as humanly possible, your fingertips brushed against the silk fabric of the pearl white tablecloth and your tendrils managed to grab hold of the first food bowl it could access. You quickly snatched it and scurried away to the corner.
Breathing a sigh of relief, you looked down to see what prize you could relish in at last.
The mirth in your eyes dulled. Your giddy smile dropped. From within the porcelain bowl, the glossy dark cylindrical delicacies winked back.
Black liquorice.
'Heh, it has liquor in its name too. What a way to carry the joke.'
Depleted by the disappointing plunder, yet trounced by a gurgling stomach, you gingerly took a small stick by the end and forced it into your mouth. Mechanically chewing the rubbery candy, you swallowed and held a gag.
"Not a liquorice fan, are you?"
You spun around and almost spat out the remaining bits of the Devil's fruit between your teeth at the sight of Gael. His lean figure was adorned by the same suit he wore earlier when you went to confirm your attendance.
"Mr Underwood?"
"Indeed, ma'am. Might I say, you look lovely tonight! The dress really suits you."
You crossed your arms across yourself and turned to the side, avoiding his gaze that trailed your form up and down. "...Thanks. You're not too shabby yourself." 'Really, Y/N, is that the best you could do? Boy, am I horrendous at reciprocating compliments.'
"Now then, let's get down to business-"
Despite talking in a whisper, his velvety voice immediately caught the attention of the people near you. A crowd soon encircled the two of you, where guests who were almost frothing over the delectable cuisine on the table before now seemed to forget their hunger entirely. Murmurs inundated the space around you, accompanied by the typical glowers and discomforted frowns. They increased in volume, blurring into the same monotonous white noise echoing off the polished walls to the other ends of the ballroom.
Whispers, snickers, gasps. They started flooding your ears too, the current pounding against your eardrum such that all other noise was filtered out. Gael's mouth moved as if he was telling you something and he pointed to the stairs, gesturing you to follow him.
Once you were less than a step away from him, he held your hand in a gentle yet firm grip and started to whisk you away.
Initially, relief washed over you from being able to escape the toxic air of scrutiny, but it soon hit you. Gael was taking you to the quieter second floor, where people were scarce. No, where witnesses were scarce.
'He could do anything to me and no one would notice.' Your anxiety cried. 'Kidnap? Torture? Murder? Who knew what monster his innocent farce hid? But, didn't he say that we should trust him...? No, what criminal wouldn't say that?!'
Panic arose within your chest and a million hypothetical disasters rammed against your cranium. The reasonable possibility that the young man could have meant no harm went ignored by the scattered gears in your mind, now whirring to engage in fight or flight.
Midway through the staircase, you struggled and broke free of his grasp.
"Y/N, what are you-"
Before he could finish, you slid down the handrail and hid amongst the copious flashy gowns and beehive hairdos.
Asher's breath hastened as the seconds ticked by. He pushed through the crowds, ignoring the gossip his presence generated, and frantically searched side to side. His mind raced and his heart thumped against his rib cage.
'Where has she gone?'
It was only for a few minutes that he looked away, gathering whatever information he could from the guests' conversations. It was only for a few minutes he averted his concentration from the girl his heart was set on so that he could progress their mission and prove useful to you.
However few they were, he cursed those minutes.
Asher lost grasp of the time he'd spent striding along every edge and square meter of the ballroom. His throat prickled from resisting the urge to call your name, for it would only bring more attention. The corners of his eyes burned; he sensed wet droplets forming.
'No, Asher, you are not going to cry.' He roughly brushed them away with the back of his hands. 'You're an adult, for God's sake.'
The boy decided to briefly check outside before checking upstairs. There was the off chance that you were talking to someone out there, regardless of how it irked him.
Approaching the grand double doors, he slipped out when the damned Gatekeeper wasn't looking and quietly closed the door behind him.
Not long after, a familiar voice shouted in front of him. "Hey! Hey, Asher!"
He swiftly jerked his head up and saw the source to be a tall, chubby man standing at the bottom of the stairs. Asher scrutinised his round face, wondering how a stranger knew his real name until recognition swept over him.
"Boris, right?" He was the guy Asher met at the library, who he accidentally hurt by knocking over some books.
The man blinked. "Boris...? Oh, yeah! How have you been doing, Ash-"
"Sssh!" Asher pressed his forefinger to his lip while making his way down the steps. He spoke in a harsh whisper. "Don't use that name. Call me Riley instead."
"Why?"
"Because..." Asher bit his lip and looked over the other man. He seemed trustworthy enough, and he wasn't going to outright tell this guy that he worked for the media. It should be okay. "I'm going undercover. Don't tell anyone though."
"Wow, really? I'm honoured you trust me enough to say that!"
"Anyways, have you seen a girl with [h/c] hair in a gorgeous blue dress? Some people know her as Falcon Girl."
He shook his head.
"Ugh, dammit! I might have missed her inside then, or she really is upstairs...I'll see you around then."
With a wave, the purple-haired boy jogged up the steps and discreetly entered back in. As soon as he was out of sight, the man who called himself Boris put a finger to his earpiece. "Boss, Y/N is in the Council Building with her partner, Asher."
Static droned in his ear before he could hear the usual croaky voice. "Interesting. But isn't there some sort of high-end party happening there? Why would a lowly chump and her dog be at a party for loaded brats?"
"I don't know, but I wasn't allowed to enter."
"Hah! I bet you wouldn't even be able to fit through the double doors anyway. After all, you're-"
"-Fatso Bob, yeah I get it. I'll update you on their movements later. Right now, I'm trying to get close to the boy who, funnily enough, trusts me so much that he gave me his real name. I'll eventually weed him out and then you can...catch the girl."
"Great. Don't take too long~" Wellington cut the line, causing Bob to release the staggering breath he hadn't realised he was holding.
The handle softly clicked as Asher eased his body weight against the door. Not long after he slipped past the eagle eyes of the Gatekeeper, he almost tripped over his feet as something tugged at the cuff of his trousers. Regaining his footing, he looked down to shoot a glare at the hand that continued to yank at the fabric. The hand which...trailed back to an arm hidden underneath a tablecloth.
Exasperated, the boy crouched down and pulled the cloth over his head. His tongue refrained from spitting a brisk expletive when his hazel eyes met your own. A finger was pressed against your lips, which curled into a cheeky grin, as your other hand grabbed his collar to pull him next to you.
"Y/N-?!"
"Ssh!" Your breath grazed the nape of Asher's neck, sending his heart racing. "We're going to lay low for a bit to quickly catch up with anything we got- Don't give me that look!" You pouted. "I know it hasn't been that long, but I need to write about all the stuff that happened since we first came here this morning. You mind handing me the notebook?"
He patted his coat, feeling for a rectangular lump until he reached into his inner pocket to manifest it. "You mean with that guy knowing your real name and him giving me...this?" He revealed the laminated fake ID card from his breast pocket.
"Yeah. Just give me a minute." You wasted no time to flip open to the next blank page and rapidly scribbled down the details. Without looking up, you continued. "By the way, did anything interesting happen on your side?"
"I met Boris." 'Though I mostly scoured the place looking for you and almost cried. But you don't need to know that.'
"Who?"
"Someone who I met at the library. He's a visitor too-"
"Wait wait wait." You held back a snort. "What was his reaction to hearing your name? Pfft, he must've been like 'Who's this dude who calls himself Billybob Applesauce? What a freak.'"
"...Yeah, about that..."
"You..." Your silent chortles faltered. "You did say that that was your name, right?"
"..."
"...Don't tell me...you said your real-"
"I'm sorry!" Asher hit his head against the wood above, causing tremors to rattle the table and bewildered gasps to emerge outside. He cursed under his breath.
"...Wow...okay, so first you raised the Council's suspicions of the presence of reporters, with the consequence of our discovery being death. Next, you made up some bullshit name and think it's a good idea to submit it as your fake ID. Bravo! And now, instead of using that name, you gave away your real one to a complete stranger, who may be someone dangerous, let alone may blow our cover!"
"Look, I'm new to all this undercover reporter stuff, okay?!"
You stilled. "You mean...this is your first mission, ever? As a reporter?"
He looked lost for words as he fumbled. "Yes-um, no...this is just, uh, the first mission where I'm undercover and...it got stressful during the planning period when I was organising stuff for the trip. So," he gulped. "the night when I was meant to type up my fake ID, I had a drink or two...or more than that, actually...and when I came back to consciousness, it seemed that my ID was submitted into the database. You know, as-"
"-Billybob Applesauce! I knew you were either knocked out drunk or high!"
"Okay, now can we just shut up about it?" You would never get tired of his tomato face, which was too easy to trigger.
'Dammit, Y/N, you're supposed to be mad at him. Yet, here you are, mentally giggling at how cute he can be.' But, how can you blame him? It reminded you of when you went undercover for the first time. You internally cringed at the memories of when you barely gave yourself away, all because of small yet fatal mistakes like the ones the Turnip made.
All of a sudden, a blinding light invaded the corner of your eye and you reflexively held up a hand to shield your sight. Through the gaps between your fingers, you squinted and made out the silhouette of a person. As your pupils adjusted to the stream of golden rays, the blackness of the silhouette thawed into shades of grey and the glint of ocean eyes.
"There you are, Miss Y/N." The familiar velvet voice spoke in a playful whisper. "Hehe...I was looking for you everywhere, you know."
'Man, Gael sounds creepy as hell.'
He held out a hand. "Come, I want to introduce you to my father and some of the invitees here."
You spared a glance at his long extended tendrils and got out of the table on your own. As Asher arose by himself, Gael threw a glare at his direction. "I won't ask you what you were doing alone with him, but I at least trust your decency."
You raised an eyebrow. 'What's that supposed to mean?'