"I... I'm sorry."

The girl apologized first.

"It's fine."

Wenwu replied with perfect grace.

"Um... could you let me go first?"

"Oh! Of course."

Flustered, Wenwu realized he was still holding her. He released his arms. She stepped back smoothly, putting careful distance between them.

"I—"

"They're coming."

Wenwu had meant to introduce himself, but the girl cut him off. She grabbed his wrist and wove through the party crowd, dragging him to a quiet corner.

"Sorry about that. People keep hunting me down for toasts. It’s exhausting."

*Then why drag me into your escape?* Wenwu thought.

"Anyway, I shouldn’t have bumped into you earlier. My bad." She apologized again.

*Did she really pull me all the way here just to say sorry? So blunt.* Wenwu sighed inwardly.

"Your outfit... you’re not nobility, are you?"

"Of course not."

"Huh. Five hundred gold coins is no small sum for a commoner. And you don’t exactly look wealthy."

Wenwu stared at her, torn between calling her tactless or just clueless.

Seeing his expression, she rushed to explain: "Sorry! I didn’t mean anything by it. I just meant... why would a commoner spend five hundred gold to attend my birthday gala?"

*Who’d waste that much on a stranger’s party? Unless...* Wenwu froze. *Your birthday gala?*

"So... you’re the duke’s daughter? The one who booked the entire Grand Ball?"

"Yes. Felice Alessandra. Just call me Felice."

"Wenwu."

"Wenwu? What a strange name."

*Strange? It’s the same name I had in this world.*

"Wu-gege! There you are. I’ve been searching everywhere."

A familiar, honeyed voice purred behind Wenwu. Amia. Dressed in a violet gown, she radiated aristocratic charm.

"And you are?" Felice asked.

"I’m Wenwu’s business partner." Amia slid an arm through Wenwu’s. "Flirting with other heiresses again? Changed your mind about our deal?"

*Don’t say weird stuff like that! People will get the wrong idea!* Wenwu groaned internally.

"Oh! I didn’t realize you were... in that line of work. Sorry for interrupting your business."

Felice gave a shallow curtsy and turned to leave.

"Wait—I’m not—" Wenwu called, but she was already gone. *Yep. Totally misunderstood.*

"So this time it’s the duke’s daughter?" Amia teased.

"Thanks to you, that ship has sailed." Wenwu sighed.

"Oh dear, don’t be like that." Her fingers tightened on his arm. "Shouldn’t we... attend to business now?"

Before he could answer, she guided him upstairs. Passing Felice on the steps, Wenwu caught her awkward smile. *This misunderstanding just got worse.*

A servant led them to a room. Wenwu entered first. Amia dismissed the servant with a flick of her wrist, then locked the door behind her.

"You come here often—" Wenwu began, trying to ease the tension. He turned—and choked on his words.

Amia had shed her violet gown. Beneath it, scandalous lingerie clung to her curves. *Even flat chests have their charms when squeezed right,* Wenwu thought numbly.

"Is... this too fast?" he managed.

"Don’t men love bold women?" Amia smirked, advancing. She pressed him gently onto the bed’s edge, then knelt over him, pushing him down.

"Amia... do you do this often?"

"Only for special clients. Others? I’d just kill them outright."

"Kill? Into S&M?"

"Interested?" Her smile sharpened as she traced his chest.

"No thanks. Not my taste."

"Pity. I brought toys."

From nowhere, a jagged dagger glinted in her hand.

*Why a knife? Shouldn’t it be a whip or something?*

"I said—special treatment for you." Her voice turned icy.

Wenwu tried to shove her off. His limbs refused to move. His throat locked silent.

"I do like you," Amia whispered. "But someone paid for your life. Sorry."

The dagger pierced through his chest.