Alyssa and Edward stood still for a moment in front of the bedroom door, still breathing in the heavy silence from the moment before. Alyssa was the first to break the inertia.
"Let's go," she said, in a restrained but firm tone. "Before my grandmother sends a servant after us."
Edward nodded, following her through the brightly lit corridors. As they walked, the distant sound of piano and strings, mingling with voices chatting, grew louder and louder. The mansion seemed to breathe the atmosphere of a party, chandeliers sparkling, soft spotlights dancing across the walls, footsteps echoing on the white marble floors.
As they approached the mansion's grand ballroom, Alyssa tried to steer Edward discreetly through a side entrance. But a servant in a spotless uniform intercepted them and announced, in a clear voice that resonated throughout the room:
"Miss Alyssa Van Halen and her companion, Mr. Edward Silver!"
Immediately, the entire ballroom turned to look at them. It was as if an invisible wave had swept through the space, silencing all conversations and laughter. Heads turned. Eyes stared — curious, assessing, inquisitive. Even the Pokémon near the guests — Gardevoir, Arcanine, Milotic — lifted their gazes, alert.
Alyssa clenched her jaw, muttering through gritted teeth:
"I told that old witch not to do this."
Edward felt his heart race. A cold shiver ran up his spine. He looked around, stunned. The ballroom looked like an ocean of silk, gold, and crystal. It was as if he'd been ripped from his world and dropped into a parallel dimension, somehow real.
The squeeze of Alyssa's hand on his arm pulled him back.
"Come on. And don't stand there like a Slowpoke."
She dragged him through the ballroom. As they advanced, the buzz of conversation gradually returned, as though the room was breathing again. A few guests came over to greet them. To Edward's utter amazement, Alyssa greeted them with refined politeness, a soft voice, and a measured smile. She seemed the perfect lady.
Edward stared at her, open-mouthed.
"How does she do it? It's like she changes skins. But… she's still her."
Suddenly, a voice sliced through the air like a sharp blade.
"So it's true. The illustrious Alyssa Van Halen has returned to society."
Edward turned and saw a blond young man, hair carefully tousled, wearing a light-gray tailored suit with a diamond brooch pinned to his tie. His smile was far too precise to be genuine.
"Desmond… damn it… not him," Alyssa muttered, disgust clear in her voice.
Desmond flashed a wide smile, approaching slowly.
"Alyssa… I missed you."
Alyssa stiffened. Her face hardened, and Edward saw something fascinating happen. The elegant posture, the polite smile — it all seemed to crumble. In the cold look in her eyes and the slight tilt of her chin, Edward glimpsed, beneath the shimmering dark-green dress, the girl in the black T-shirt with a skull print, leather jacket, ripped jeans at the knees, and worn-out boots. The real Alyssa Van Halen had returned.
"Let's go, Edie," she said, turning to leave.
But Desmond reached out and grabbed her wrist.
"Wait, Alyssa, my father got me a new piano. You like music, don't you? It's custom-made. Perfect. How about I play something for you if you come to my house?"
Alyssa let out a long sigh, her lips twisting into an expression of impatience. She looked at Desmond as though she were seeing a piece of chewed gum stuck to the bottom of her shoe.
"I'd rather hear an Exploud use Hyper Voice right in my face."
Edward let out a short laugh at Desmond's expression. Desmond turned to him with disdain.
"And you?" he said, his voice dripping with venom. "Are you that musician everyone's been talking about? I bet you're one of those who just makes noise… someone who only plays cheap music. You don't deserve to be at Alyssa's side. What do you play to be so confident? The triangle?"
Edward opened his mouth, but Alyssa was quicker. She stepped forward, eyes flashing.
"Edward is a better musician than you'll ever be. And no, he doesn't play the triangle. But even if he did, he'd play it with soul. Something you'll never understand. You're more pitiful than someone who just follows sheet music mechanically."
Desmond flinched, his smile faltering for a split second.
"So if he's that good… let him prove it."
Edward blinked, stunned.
"I… I'm not sure if…"
But Alyssa raised her chin.
"Edie-boy is better than you with his eyes closed. If you want to get humiliated, you spoiled little shit, go ahead."
"Alyssa, calm down…" Edward murmured, distressed.
But to his despair, there was no reprieve. Alyssa looked ready to leap forward and punch Desmond at any moment. Lady Katharine, noticing the situation, was approaching, with Ane right behind her. The viscountess wore a placid expression, but her eyes gleamed with satisfaction, as though she were watching her favorite drama unfold.
"What's happening here, children?" she asked, feigning innocence.
Ane smiled.
"A duel, Grandma. A duel for a lady's heart. It's just like one of those stories about knights fighting for the hand of a princess."
Alyssa shot her cousin a murderous look. For an instant, Ane lost her composure and gave an awkward laugh, but quickly returned to her usual amused smile.
Lady Katharine clasped her hands in front of her chest, delighted.
"If my granddaughter has so much faith in Mr. Edward's talent, then I think it's only fair that he has the chance to prove himself."
Edward drew a deep breath, feeling all the eyes upon him like heavy stones. Amid the commotion, every gaze in the ballroom turned in his direction.
With little choice, he let out a deep sigh and said quietly:
"Alright. I accept."
Alyssa turned excitedly to the nearby servant.
"Please, go get Edward's guitar from his room."
Edward raised his hand.
"No." His voice came out firm. "If we're going to compete… let's use the same instrument."
He turned his gaze toward the back of the ballroom, where a black grand piano gleamed under the lights as the band played a soft melody. The black and white keys seemed to beckon him.
"We'll use the piano. The same piano."
Desmond lifted his chin, smirking in disdain.
"As you wish, mutt. I just hope you know that the white keys aren't different from the black ones just because of their color."
Edward took a deep breath, stepped up to the piano, and rested his hands on its smooth wooden surface. His fingers trembled slightly.
He lifted his eyes. And he couldn't help thinking:
"Shit, it's been years since I've played piano. I shou
ld've stuck to the damn guitar. Why do I keep getting myself into this kind of mess?"
He raised his eyes once more, saw the crowd murmuring in front of him, drew in a deep breath, and began to move his fingers over the keys.