A book in which you, the infamous ability stealer, are the newest member of the Port Mafia and as witty as they come. Being the constant centre of attention, you have managed to catch the eye of the notorious young executive; Chuuya Nakahara, but no...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
A/N - I highly recommend that you press play on the playlist above and let it run throughout this chapter! ;)
▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀
Ivy and ferns sprouted in the crevices of the old, curving stone path that led directly to the colossal edifice. The great estate stood proudly behind creaky iron gates, bordered by rows upon rows of skeletal trees, the leaves swaying gently in the chilly spring wind.
Chuuya took a deep breath as he entered the grand ballroom swarming with a plethora of Victorian aristocrats—himself, included. The ballroom was gargantuan and grand, the size of a football pitch. He didn't think he'd ever been in a space that made him feel so damn small—well, smaller than he already was.
Crystal chandeliers hung from the arching sky-blue ceiling, the colour matching his eyes, illuminating the gleaming golden walls and a floor so polished that it had resembled an iced-over river. And it wasn't just the ballroom that sparkled, either—the women did, too, like a box of jewels, adorned in shades of emerald, sapphire, ruby, and amethyst swirling before his eyes clad in matching demi-masks, their low chatter accompanied by wafts of rose, hyacinth and jasmine. He glanced down at his own attire in utter disdain; Chuuya had looked as handsome as ever, but that didn't take away from the real reason why he was even here in the first place, and why he was forced to dress like this.
He was attired in a deep rouge, velvet tailcoat, a plain white shirt with a cravat, and an ivory double-breasted paisley-patterned vest over the shirt. He donned white gloves, and his russet hair was tied into a low ponytail. He looked devilishly handsome tonight—a true sight for sore eyes, despite wearing a white demi-mask which had covered half of his face. Women were gawking at him from left, right and centre, with hearts practically dancing in their eyes, regardless of their partners who were standing right beside them. Although, Chuuya simply could not bask in the attention. Not right now. Not when he knew what he had to do tonight. Not when he had a dagger hidden up his sleeve. He felt nothing but a deep sense of dread coiling through him, but at the same time, it was the only way to make sure that both of you had made it out of here alive—that was what he kept telling himself as a coping mechanism.
The very moment that he had managed to get out of here, he was going to make sure to get his hands on Poe. He was going to make sure that Poe suffered tremendously. He was going to make sure that Poe wished he was dead.
A muscle rippled in his jaw just thinking about that pathetic excuse of a man with his equally as pathetic raccoon. How he had somehow allowed a fucking raccoon of all things to best him the way it did was truly something that he would never understand.
It was approaching midnight—and the night sky that he could see through the large sash windows decorating every square inch of the grand ballroom was simply breathtaking. An illuminating full moon was set against a black to navy gradient, with the night sky so clear you could practically see every crater. The moon loomed enormous, a brilliant yellowy white, enveloped by an ethereal glow. There were millions of stars smattered behind it, some larger than others, but mostly a multitude of little white pin pricks.
