Masquerade [Killer x Reader]

1. The ball

I survey the room, frowning behind the mask.

I find myself in a huge ballroom, surrounded by pompous gowns and extravagant headdresses. Jewels sparkle in the candlelight, throwing blinding flashes in all directions. On and off, some glints manage to sneak into my eyes, and I have to blink until I get them to focus again.

Uncomfortable, I occupy myself by finding all possible escape routes, momentarily ignoring the nobles dancing and chatting cheerfully. I hate the feeling of being trapped, and it's better to be prepared for whatever may happen.

To my right, there is the huge gate with double doors through which we have entered, guarded by two uniformed guards, one on each side. They're guys a little shorter than me, but with a back almost as wide as Kid's, and they barely move from the spot. They look distracted, but I can see how they tilt their heads every time someone raises their voice. They are not regular guards.

When I look again at the ridiculous mask they're wearing, I hold back a chuckle.

It is a maroon mask with a hooked nose that ends in a beak. The eye socket curves sharply toward the mouth, giving it a droopy look. On top of that, a bunch of exaggerated wrinkles frame the eyes and furrow the forehead.

They look pretty grotesque, even by my standards, and, believe me, that's disturbing. I've seen all kinds of things on our trip.

If it weren't for the tie, they could have been part of the troupe of a circus of horrors, and no one would have been surprised.

I can only think of two options: either they've pissed off their superior, and he's getting back at them; or simply put, the dress code for the service sucks.

Judging by the fancy masks, the stuffy look of the guests, and the fact that everyone is pretending they don't exist, I'm more inclined to go with the second option. I guess whoever chose the uniform wanted to emphasize the fact that they were not welcome. If they are here, it is solely and exclusively to protect the guests, thanks to the rumors that have spread about a certain pirate crew that docked on the island a week ago.

Evil tongues say that these pirates are a bunch of «ruthless killers and shameless scoundrels» who will kidnap your wives and seduce your daughters with their smooth talk if no one stops them.

I can't help but crack a smile that no one can see. Kid Pirates? Smooth talk? I don't know whether to be offended or flattered that someone would be able to think that about us.

I'd like to know if the person who started the rumors about our «captivating sweet-talk» would have the same opinion after having a date with Kid.

With this funny image in my mind, I continue my inspection, a little more cheerful now. Who makes up these rumors?

A wide marble staircase extends directly in front of the door flanked by the guards, halfway down the hall. A vermilion carpet adorns the steps and, on the handrails, small oil lamps light the way down, which, at this moment, a young woman is descending with an older man at her side.

To my left, there are three large windows opening onto a balcony overlooking the sea. Although there are also some guards posted in them, I don't see any on the balcony, which instantly makes it our number one escape route.

The only light brightening the terraces is that of the moon itself, shining softly in a clear sky. It would be a perfect night to be in the Victoria Punk nest, watching the stars and feeling the breeze after having a good feast. However, I doubt any of these pretentious people would have any interest in the view.

I get the feeling that, at these sorts of events, they tend to dispense with putting more lighting in certain places to give a little privacy to couples who want to have a furtive encounter under the stars. I can't help but frown at the thought that my progenitor was probably one of those.