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Dark Moon Third Arc (Fallen Heart) - 373. Strange Guest
🕑 Added 2025-02-13 15:31:52 +0000 UTCThird Arc (Fallen Heart) - 373. Strange Guest
Rose barely had time to process it before Angel’s hand moved, a seemingly casual gesture, a shift in his fingers, a flick of his wrist. To anyone else, it would’ve looked like nothing more than an idle movement. But Rose wasn’t just anyone. And neither were the Black Devil soldiers stationed around the room, hidden in plain sight.
They saw it. They moved.
Rose didn’t react, didn’t ask, didn’t break the rhythm of their dance. She knew better than to draw attention to something Angel had already handled. But her voice dropped lower, just enough for him to hear over the music. “Strange guest?”
Angel’s smirk returned, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Perhaps.”
“Anything to be concerned about?”
“Not yet.”
Rose didn’t press further. Angel would tell her if she needed to know. For now, she trusted him to handle whatever had caught his attention. But that didn’t mean she wasn’t curious.
Her gaze drifted casually across the ballroom, scanning the faces of the guests as if she were simply admiring the scene. Laughter, chatter, the clinking of glasses—everything seemed normal. Too normal. And yet, she knew something had shifted beneath the surface.
Angel’s grip on her waist eased slightly as the music slowed, signaling the end of the dance. “You should sit for a bit,” he murmured. “Have a drink.”
Rose arched a brow. “You mean, stay out of the way?”
Angel’s smirk deepened. “I mean, enjoy the party while I take care of something.”
She considered arguing, but there was no point. Instead, she exhaled through her nose, stepping back slightly as the dance came to a close. “Fine. But don’t take too long. I’ll get bored.”
Angel chuckled. “I’ll try my best.”
He released her hand gently, turning just as another noble approached Rose with a polite greeting. He knew she’d handle it with the same grace she always did. Meanwhile, he moved toward the edge of the ballroom, his steps smooth, unhurried, as if he wasn’t tracking something—or someone.
The Black Devil soldiers had already shifted. One near the grand entrance. Another by the serving tables. Two more blending into the noble crowd, watching, waiting.
Angel’s gaze flicked toward the guest who had caught his attention earlier.
Strange.
Not a face he recognized. And in a room full of people he had at least passing knowledge of, that stood out. The man’s attire was elegant, appropriate for the event, but there was something… off. His movements were too controlled, too deliberate. He wasn’t engaged in conversation. He wasn’t drinking. He was simply watching.
Watching him.
Angel didn’t react. Instead, he reached for a drink from a passing tray, bringing the glass to his lips as he leaned against one of the marble pillars, his posture deceptively relaxed. The strange guest hadn’t moved, hadn’t approached. But Angel could feel the weight of his stare, the careful calculation behind it.
Then, just as smoothly as he had entered the room, the man turned and started to walk toward one of the balcony exits.
Interesting.
Angel didn’t follow immediately. Instead, he lifted his glass slightly—a different signal this time.
The nearest Black Devil soldier caught it. A shift in position. A silent acknowledgement.
Move.
The soldier slipped through the crowd, not toward the man, but toward the exit itself, taking a separate route that would intercept him before he could disappear into the night.
Angel waited. One breath. Two.
Then, setting his drink aside, he pushed off the pillar and followed, his movements as effortless as the role he played. A king enjoying his own party. A host greeting his guests.
No one had any reason to suspect otherwise.
Except for the man who had just tried to leave unnoticed.
Angel stepped through the balcony doors just as the cool night air greeted him. The party’s noise dulled behind him, muffled by the heavy curtains that separated the grand ballroom from the outside. His steps were slow, unhurried, as he moved toward the shadowed figure standing near the stone railing.
The man didn’t flinch, didn’t turn to acknowledge him right away. He stood stiffly, his hands resting on the ledge, as if he were merely admiring the view of the illuminated gardens below. But Angel knew better.
