𝐎𝐮𝐫 𝐄𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐥𝐞𝐝 𝐃𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐲 •ᴊᴊᴋ

▪︎10▪︎ The Masked Dance of Fate - II

Kim Y/n

The room was a flurry of satin and sequins as I stood before my open wardrobe, pondering the choices laid out before me. "A gala," I muttered to myself with an air of disbelief. "Who would've thought I'd be getting ready for a gala tonight?"

It had all started with Ji Eun, my ever-enthusiastic roommate and friend. She had received an invitation to a masked gala, and her excitement had been palpable. But just as quickly as her enthusiasm had soared, it had crashed when she realized she had double-booked herself. Her romantic dinner plans with Soo Hyuk had taken precedence, leaving her with a dilemma.

"Y/n," she had said with a hint of desperation, "you've got to go to the gala in my place! It's a once-in-a-lifetime chance, and I can't let this invitation go to waste."

I had chuckled at her dramatic plea, never one to embrace the glitzy world of galas and ballrooms. "Ji Eun, you know I'm more at home with takeout containers and Netflix binges than black-tie events."

But Ji Eun's relentless persuasion had won the day. She had steamrolled over my objections with her uncontainable enthusiasm. "Y/n, it's a masked gala!" she had exclaimed as if that single sentence explained everything. "You'll get to wear a fancy dress, a mask, and, who knows, maybe you'll have a Cinderella moment!"

Cinderella moment? The thought was absurd in the context of my life. Cinderella had talking mice and a fairy godmother. I had Ji Eun and a closet filled with clothes I rarely glanced at.

So there I stood, rifling through dresses that had seen more hanger time than hugging time. Ji Eun had insisted on lending me one of her own, a silver gown that shimmered in the soft bedroom light.

"You look stunning in silver," she had said with a grin, holding it up for me to inspect. "Trust me, Y/n, you'll be the talk of the gala."

With a sigh and a silent pep talk, I had agreed to take on the role of Ji Eun's proxy for the evening. The idea of stepping into her shoes and experiencing a world so far removed from my own was both exhilarating and terrifying.

And so, I stood in front of the mirror, eyeing the silver gown that now hung elegantly on my frame. The mask lay on the dressing table, an ornate creation of silver and midnight blue, like a promise of hidden identities and enigmatic encounters.

With a deep breath, I began the transformation. Tonight, I would be Y/n, the reluctant gala-goer turned Silver Specter, stepping into a world of glamour and secrets. The choice had been made, and destiny awaited, shrouded in the allure of a masked gala.

The grand hall of the gala beckoned, its opulence and elegance overwhelming as I stepped through the entrance. The sheer magnitude of the event hit me like a tidal wave, and for a moment, I felt like a character from a fairy tale thrust into an unfamiliar world. The chandeliers hung from the ornate ceiling, casting a warm, golden glow over the impeccably dressed attendees. It was as though someone had plucked stars from the night sky and scattered them across the ballroom.

Women in gowns of satin and sequins glided gracefully, their laughter and animated conversations weaving a tapestry of sound that enveloped the room. Their dresses swayed like shimmering waves as they danced to the rhythm of their own joy. If you looked closely, you could swear you saw Cinderella herself among them, twirling with grace.

Strongly built men in tailored suits exuded an air of authority, mingling with the crowd like kings of their domain. Their suits were so sharp you could cut glass with the angles of their lapels. I half-expected to see James Bond himself sipping a martini at the bar, casually discussing espionage between sips.

Nervousness tightened my chest as I navigated through the sea of beautiful people. A feeling of inadequacy washed over me as I realized I was living in a parallel universe where the currency was glamour and sophistication, and I was left with pocket change. Beautiful girls and strongly built suit-clad men surrounded me. I couldn't help but feel like a fumbling tourist lost in a foreign land.