Chapter 5: The Masquerade, the Madness, and DRUNK!
Masquerade.An elegant tradition hosted by the oh-so-glorious Emperor of the Empire. A night where class, status, and identity melted away like cheap wax candles in summer. It was hailed as the event to find your soulmate.
That’s what the rumors claimed.
Except—
"WHAT THE ACTUAL HELL IS THIS?!"
Lucien stood at the entrance of the gilded ballroom, stiff as a statue, mouth agape. His face was half-covered by an intricate gold-and-black mask Lady Seraphina had graciously (read: forcefully) handed him.
He blinked. Then blinked again. Nope. Still a rainbow of disappointment.
"Is there something wrong with my eyes, or is the author of this damned novel pathologically OBSESSED with three hair colors?!"
Everywhere he looked—left, right, and diagonally—there were golden-haired Adonises, silver-haired brooding Alphas, and red-haired temptresses floating through the room like they were hired in bulk from the same fantasy-themed hair salon.
"Did a shampoo commercial explode in here!?"
Lucien rubbed his temples. "The heroine’s supposed to stand out with maroon hair, but what’s the difference? That’s Red’s shy cousin."
Behind him, Lady Seraphina sighed, folding her fan with passive-aggressive elegance. "What are you muttering about now? You’ve been standing here like a cursed statue."