Chapter 11 – Masked, Marked, and Mildly Panicking

Aeron sat on the edge of his bed, still holding the black envelope like it might turn into a cursed scroll and summon a demon at any moment. Lyra was pacing his room in frantic circles, ranting like someone had just invited them to a haunted prom.

"Do you think they know?" she asked. "Do they know you're... you know... weird?"

"Wow," Aeron muttered. "Thanks for the emotional support."

"You know what I mean!" Lyra flailed. "You're a transmigrated ex-bookworm inhabiting a dead Omega's body in a world where magic exists and nobles casually curse people into vegetables—"

"I'd prefer not to be reminded."

She stopped pacing. "You're still going though?"

"I mean, yeah." He held up the card. "It says 'attendance is expected'. That's noble-speak for 'show up or we summon a tracking demon.'"

Lyra rubbed her face. "Fine. But we need disguises. Really good ones. Like Mission: Impossible meets anime convention."

Aeron blinked. "Wait. I have just the thing."

He opened his closet, reached into a suspiciously hidden side panel, and pulled out—

"A full black suit with matching custom half-mask and cloak?" Lyra gaped. "How long have you been hiding that?"

"I prepped for a cosplay convention that never happened. Don't judge me."

She held up the cloak. "This is velvet. Aeron, this is criminally soft."

"You're welcome."

---

The Next Day – Operation: Masquerade Prep

Aeron and Lyra hit the city's noble district mall—a glimmering five-story monument to excessive wealth and uncomfortable designer shoes.

Their first stop: Mystique Masques, a boutique that sold "luxury disguisewear for your high-society deception needs."

A tall saleswoman with glowing green eyes greeted them. "Ah, welcome! Shopping for forbidden secrets or casual scandal tonight?"

"Something in between," Lyra said, eyeing a black feathered mask. "Do you have anything that says 'don't curse me, I'm just here for snacks'?"

Aeron held up a sleek, matte black mask. "Do you think this makes me look mysterious or just sleep-deprived?"

"Both," Lyra nodded. "It's perfect."

They bought the masks, cloaks, and several questionable accessories, including a charm bracelet that claimed to "repel hexes and clingy exes."

By the time they left the store, they looked like gothic royalty on their way to crash a villain's birthday party.

---

Meanwhile, Elsewhere in a Much Fancier Mansion…

Selene stood in front of a towering mirror while her assistant laced up the back of a red silk gown that looked like it had been stitched together from power and regret.

"You're seriously attending the masquerade?" her assistant asked.

"I wasn't invited," Selene said calmly, applying black eyeliner sharp enough to file legal complaints. "Which is exactly why I'm going."

She picked up her own silver mask. Elegant. Dangerous. Matching her vibe perfectly.

"And if House Nightveil thinks they can draw him in without my approval..." Her voice lowered. "They're playing with fire."

"Or shadow magic," the assistant mumbled.

"Same thing," Selene replied coldly.

---

That Evening – The Masquerade Begins

The Nightveil Mansion loomed like a gothic cathedral crossed with a luxury hotel. Black glass windows reflected the moonlight, and the garden was filled with softly glowing lanterns, strange violin music, and people wearing masks more expensive than cars.

Aeron and Lyra stepped out of the car and onto the black carpet.

"You look like a fantasy mob boss," Lyra whispered, eyeing Aeron's suit.

"And you look like you're here to steal a kingdom and my heart."

Lyra rolled her eyes but blushed slightly.

They walked in.

The ballroom was massive—crystal chandeliers, enchanted rose petals floating in the air, and waiters serving drinks that shimmered suspiciously.

Aeron barely had time to process the scene when a voice whispered near his ear.

"You clean up well… for a target."

He turned slowly—and froze.

Selene.

Clad in blood-red silk and a silver mask, looking like a villainess straight out of a dream you weren't sure was a nightmare or fantasy.

"Selene," he said carefully, "you weren't invited."

She stepped closer, her perfume floral and slightly threatening. "Neither were you. And yet here we are."

Lyra groaned softly. "Great. A love triangle. Just what we needed."

Selene's eyes flicked to her. "You're the babysitter tonight?"

"No," Lyra said with a dry smile. "I'm the fire extinguisher. For when he inevitably causes a magical incident."

"Then stay close." Selene smirked. "This party is going to burn."