Special Chapter: Third Person POV

Three Years Ago

"Happy sweet sixteenth darling," Milady's mother greeted beside her for the fifth time that night. It was Milady's birthday and so, her parents decided to throw her a masquerade party. Provided that she had been too busy solving crime, poking dead bodies and taking down Prince who had been quite a challenge, her cousins took the initiative to prepare her outfit for her.

Milady smiled at her mother. "Thank you, mom." To her right she said, "You too, dad."

Although she very much appreciated the gesture, she didn't understand why it had to be a masquerade party. She already knew everyone there.

The candle-blowing, singing and greeting parts were over, along with the eating and chatting around parts of the party. So now, it was time for the dancing. Milady didn't particularly like that though.

Mr. Sinclair had asked Milady's mother to a dance, leaving her alone at the table. She could see her aunt and uncles dancing around in a slow rhythm, even her grandparents on her father's side. Her cousins and distant relatives brought their partners too. It was a pretty big family so the reception was filled to the brim that one could easily forget who's who, but not Milady. She takes every fine detail and commit them to memory.

The lighting was dim and often changed colors every once in a while, so the lemon juice in her glass reflected the changes too. She stared at it, wondering where Detective Michael was. She had invited him to the party sometime after she found out there was a surprise party for her. He hadn't responded to her text though.

"May I have this dance?" she heard a man's voice speak. Looking up, her eyes zeroed in on the man's eyes. Milady couldn't see the upper part of his face, but just by his beautiful eyes, pair of lips and physique, she could tell he wasn't a close relative.

"I apologize for being rude, but who are you?" she asked, eyeing him up and down, trying to match his vital statistics with all the male friends she knew. The frown which pleated her glabella told him she had failed. "Do I even know you?"

The man gave her a slow smile as Milady's eyes staring fixatedly at the movement of his lips. "You do, my lady," he told her, holding a hand out. Reluctantly, Milady accepted his outstretched palm and he guided her to the dance floor.

Milady noticed how he had deliberately brought her to a spacious corner, a bit farther away from the rest of her family. It aroused her suspicion.

The man suddenly pulled her body swiftly against him, eliciting a soft gasp from her lips. Putting a hand over her small waist, they began gliding. She was so small and delicate compared to him, that it felt so easy to maneuver her to a waltz expertly.

Milady felt alarmed for a moment, not knowing who the man was. But the complicated dance steps got her too distracted to even let out a single question. Sometimes, he would hold her by the waist and raise her up for a few seconds before putting her down. She felt like she had been floating then, until he would spin her around and made her dip a few times— his strong arms always caught her.

When the song ended, Milady remained reclined, his arm spanning the delicate skin of her back. She felt herself blush when she noticed him inhaling her strawberry perfume. Their lips were so close they could almost kiss.

She had been looking into his eyes the entire time, so she had noticed the moment his eyes moved to focus on something else. Milady followed his gaze and saw Michael from the entrance. He was looking at them with a strange expression.

The man immediately pulled her up to a standing position, bowed and left without a word. She had been to dazed by the consecutive turn of events that her reaction time got delayed.

"Wait!" Milady moved to follow the stranger whose name she still hadn't known. But he was too quick and nimble. Once he disappeared from her line of sight, it was like he had just vanished.

Out of Milady's view, the man had hid himself in a niche where he had kept his disguise. He swiftly and methodically changed his expensive suit into a waiter's uniform, before blending in with the crowd. Busying himself with serving drinks, he made sure that neither Milady nor the detective could spot him.

Meanwhile, Milady continued his search for the man but found he had completely vanished.

Noticing her distress, Mr. and Mrs. Sinclair appeared beside her. "Sweetheart, are you alright?"

Milady looked at her mom, her face flushed. She had a sudden thought. "Mom... what prompted you to put up a masquerade?"

Milady's parents looked at each other in silence. It was Mr. Sinclair who answered reluctantly, "A package arrived three days ago," he began. "It was addressed to our house, for us. The letter said it was from an admirer and that we should throw you a surprise."

"Dear, we didn't think it was important," Mrs. Sinclair added.

"What was inside the package?"

"Dozens of masks, and a dress specially for you," answered her father.

Milady couldn't believe it. Although she wasn't sure if it was him, her theory was confirmed when she returned to her seat. There was an envelope there and a paper bag.

Milady only knew Mr. X to be male, when forensics discovered the traces of saliva on each envelope he had folded the letters in. He must have licked them closed. Sadly, his gender was the only thing they could gather from that. There were just no suspects whose DNA they could compare with the samples.

Milady couldn't believe she had danced with him and not have realized it!

With trembling hands, she opened the envelope. As usual, his paper was double-bonded and expertly cut, the scent of mint, ink and wood wafting from it. Milady's heart thudded loudly in her chest, her breathing turning heavy as she picked up the letter. He had smelt like mint too.

After reading the short letter, she easily deciphered the message. It was, "Happy Birthday." Detective Michael chose that moment to appear beside her. She had almost forgotten about him. Without a word, she handed the letter to him.

The detective stared at the letter written with red ink. His face was unreadable as he too deciphered the familiar cryptography. "I gather that was him," the detective simply stated, not meeting her eyes. He was dressed up in a nice suit. He wore no mask though—he was too cool for that.

"The moment I lost visuals, he had disappeared. And he left me this too." Milady gestured to the paperbag which was neatly wrapped with a red ribbon. "What do you think it is? A bomb?"

Michael shook his head, his jaw tightening. "He hasn't shown any desire in wanting to harm you."

"Then why show up here?" She gestured around her family, who were too preoccupied to notice their ordeal. "This is not the way he usually works. Why risk showing up in public? Mr. X just leaves letters in random places where he knows I would find them. No appearance whatsoever."

"He changed his mind." The detective picked up the paperbag and unceremoniously unwrapped it.

"Wait, what are you—" Milady gasped upon seeing what was inside, her pink lips forming a small 'o.'

Mr. Xs gift was none other than Raymond Schindler's famous invention in the field of investigation—the dictograph recorder. Despite herself, Milady felt her lips tug into a genuine smile.

For the past two years, they worked together—though not in the common way—Milady knew he was her equal and rival. Mr. X kept her up on her toes. He was a darn genius, and most likely wealthy. Though he extremely confused her, she could not help but feel a deep connection with the man.

From a distance, he had watched her then and couldn't help but feel a tug at his heart upon seeing her smile. He had gone to great lengths just to be there—to see her, to dance with her, to be so close to her. It was risky, but undoubtedly, the ends justified the means.

Another year passed and things were not the same after Milady's accident. He blamed himself for it; for not watching her carefully. His algorithm had failed to predict the dangers that Jack Slate would present to Milady in the future. His failure almost caused him her life.

His last letter to her was this:

"Worlds apart, we were fated.

Though never intertwined.

You are a princess, I am a servant.

For the sake of protecting you,

I will become live for you..."

However, unlike his other letters, he drew three figures at the bottom of the texts; the letter M, an arrow's head, and the number eight.

Milady knew that this letter was different from all his previous ones, but what did it mean? She never found out then.

Well, perhaps she is about to?