Chapter 21 - "Masquerade Of Shadows"

The rhythmic beat of fingers drumming on wood resonated throughout the shadowy room. Sorin Veltre leaned forward in his chair, staring at rows of scrunched-up encrypted text on his holographic screen. The discussion of his previous call still echoed within his thoughts.

Then—

Knock. Knock.

Silence.

Sorin grinned. "Come in, Phantom."

The door groaned open. A man entered, his presence smooth but authoritative. Phantom, dressed in his characteristic black, entered the room, his masked face shadowed by the warm light of Zyphorion's cityscape behind Sorin's window.

He said nothing. He just moved forward, dropping a bullet on Sorin's desk. The same bullet from the auction.

Sorin laughed. "What's this?"

Phantom tilted his head. "The job details. Isn't that what you listed on it?"

Sorin grabbed the bullet, spinning it in his fingers. "Tch. Still clutching onto it? Thought you'd have tossed it by now."

Phantom leaned against the wall, crossing his arms. "Thought you'd do something like this again."

Sorin relaxed in his chair, observing Phantom through his dark glasses. "You're free for the moment, kiddo. No missions. No tasks. Go explore the city. Have fun."

Phantom's fingers tapped against his arm. "You're giving me free time? That's suspicious."

Sorin smirked. "Consider it … a reward."

Phantom didn't believe the words, but he didn't ask questions. He just turned, moving toward the door.

"See your room when you return," Sorin called out casually. "Could be something exciting in it for you."

Phantom froze for an instant. Then, without speaking, he stepped back out, vanishing into the corridors.

The door to Phantom's private suite slid open. His senses sharpened immediately.

Something was different.

The lights were lowered, and on his neatly tidied bed was an unfamiliar parcel. A spotless black box, wrapped with a scarlet ribbon.

Phantom stepped forward casually. Glitch hovering next to him looked at the parcel warily. "Yo, that's either a present or a highly sophisticated bomb."

Phantom disregarded him, lifting the box. A small, elegant card was pinned to the ribbon.

"You've been invited. Wear this."

There was no name. No signature.

Glitch blinked. "Okay, I'm sorry, but that's shady as hell."

Phantom smirked and untied the ribbon. The top of the box came open, and its contents were shown.

Inside was a perfectly tailored suit—smooth black material lined with subtle silver details, streamlined but not showy, made to blend without losing presence.

But what caught Phantom's attention was the mask beside it.

A wolf mask.

Sleek. Stylish. Dark with sharp silver accents. It only covered half his face, leaving his crimson eyes still visible.

Phantom grasped the mask, tracing the edges with his fingers.

Glitch whistled. "Damn. That's actually kinda sick."

Phantom's smirk grew. "Whoever sent this has good taste."

Glitch frowned. "Bro, you're just gonna wear some random outfit given to you by an unknown sender?"

Phantom chuckled,fitting the mask over his face.

"Why not?"

The mask fit perfectly.

He turned to Glitch, crimson eyes gleaming beneath the half-mask.

"Let's see what the night has in store for us." He checked the golden-black card for the details.

VENUE: Zyphorion Grand HallEVENT: Masquerade GalaTIME: MidnightWear this.

He muttered to himself. "Hmm, a masquerade ball, quite the event."

A night of grandeur.

The Zyphorion Grand Hall stood as a testament to the nation's wealth—a fusion of elegance and silent authority. Towering crystal chandeliers hung from an impossibly high ceiling, their soft golden glow casting shifting reflections on the polished obsidian floor.

The walls, with their richly embroidered gold and silver designs, spoke of money and power, their designs timeless yet as old as the hills. Murals of bygone rulers and conquerors dominated the guests, their eyes unseen but watching.

At the center of it all—the guests.

Wearing their best suits and gowns, men and women of power and wealth moved silently across the floor of the ballroom, every step practiced, every move made with a thought. Hidden behind masks, their identities became fluid, shifting and blurring all lines between enemies and friends, between assassins and merchants, between warlords and dignitaries.

A soft orchestral melody filled the air—calm, yet laced with something unspoken.

This was no party. This was a battleground.

And then—a shadow stepped into the light.

Phantom arrived.

His suit, immaculately tailored, molded to his shape with effortless ease. The black material bore no unnecessary frills, but its clean cuts and smooth texture exuded quiet confidence. A crimson-trimmed overcoat draped over his shoulders, a classy contrast to the abyss-black clothing beneath.

And then, the mask.

Half-wolf, lean, crafted with a deadly beauty—black as the abyss, with red streaks that resembled claw marks. The mask only half-concealed his face, leaving his sharp jawline and cold golden contact lenses exposed. A predator among prey.

He walked, measured and deliberate, each step merging into the beat of the music.

All around him, whispers spread—some intrigued, some wary.

He did not belong here.

But at the same time—he belonged perfectly.

The masquerade had begun.

The Zyphorion ballroom was a work of elegance—a combination of classic design and understated futuristic flair. A crystal chandelier cast a warm golden light throughout the hall, its prismatic beams playing across sheened marble floors. The room was filled with a muted combination of perfume and old wine, the aroma of money and influence.

Men in tailored suits and women in extravagant gowns moved effortlessly, their conversations and laughter becoming one with the soft classical music played by a corner orchestra. Masks of all types covered the guests—feathers, gemstones, delicate metalwork—concealing identity but not motives.

Glitch, invisible to the rest, floated beside him, arms crossed. "So... how exactly do we find the one who sent you this?"

Phantom's lips curled. "Already did."

Glitch's eyes blinked in confusion. "Wait, what?"

Without speaking, Phantom raised his eyes. His golden eyes fixed on a figure beside the sweeping grand staircase—a woman wrapped in a stunningly crafted royal gown, her figure posed with effortless grace.

Her mask, a sleek golden fox design, framed intense gold-green eyes—eyes that watched the crowd with a knowing, playful glint.

The thief.

Glitch looked back and forth between Phantom and her. "No way. That fast? How?!"

Phantom smirked, adjusted his cuffs, and whispered, "My heart raced when I got near."

Glitch froze. A moment of pure silence.

Then—he clapped his hands over his face, grunting. "Bro... no... Stop. You're literally killing me. I can't stand this cringe—"

"Well, I have to do something before that." Phantom zipped Glitch's mouth and stuffed him inside the ring.

Phantom started walking dominantly towards the thief.

As he approached, the thief's playful smirk widened. She shifted toward him, sipping a slow drink from a crystal glass. "Took you long enough."

Phantom came to a halt inches from her, tilting his head."You changed your wig and lenses... yet, here we are."

She blinked. For the first time, her confident smirk faltered.

"Even if I changed my hair and eye color... how did you locate me?"

Phantom leaned in a little, speaking in a whisper. "My heart beats for you."

The face of the thief immediately flushed. She took a half-step back, her hand tightening around her glass. "W-Wha—"

Phantom, still cool, reached for his communicator. "Hold on, I need to call someone."

The thief raised an eyebrow. "Who?"

Phantom casually pressed a number.

As soon as the call connected, he opened his mouth—

But before he could say anything, the thief's soft, gloved hand covered his phone, pressing it back into his pocket.

Phantom raised a brow.

She moved closer, her golden-green eyes locked onto his. "Who exactly are you calling at a moment like this?"

Phantom smirked. "A friend."

The thief's lips twisted."How rude."

Then, before Phantom could react, she grabbed his wrist and pulled him onto the ballroom floor.

Phantom blinked. "Oi—"

She put his hand on her waist firmly and leaned in, whispering into his ear. "If you're going to think about someone else while dancing with me, I might just get jealous."

The music swelled, and Phantom had no choice but to follow her lead.

With effortless grace, the thief spun, her gown rippling like liquid gold. Phantom shifted involuntarily, matching her timing, their step synchronized but unrestrainable.

It wasn't just a dance. It was a game.

She tested his balance—he countered.

She shifted direction suddenly—he adapted.

She tried to throw him off pace—he turned it into an advantage.

The surrounding guests hardly gave it a thought, too wrapped up in conversation, but between them—a wordless duel of intelligence took place.

Her fingers brushed against his shoulder. "I have to admit, you're smoother than I expected."

Phantom's fingers tightened slightly around her waist. "I have my moments."

She smirked. "And yet, you still haven't asked the most important question."

Phantom tilted his head. "Which is?"

She leaned in, her breath warm against his neck. "Why did I kiss you?"

For the first time that evening—Phantom hesitated.

And she saw it.

Phantom travelled back to the moments of that chase.

Her smirk widened.

Phantom narrowed his eyes.

But before he could say anything, the music came to an end.

The thief pulled away slightly, still holding his hand. She leaned closer—then suddenly stomped on his foot with her sharp heels.

Phantom barely flinched.

She smirked. "That's for planting trackers while kissing me, bastard."

With a final wink, she turned and walked away—toward the balcony.

Phantom exhaled, rolling his shoulders.

Phantom smirked, walking towards the balcony.