She could only nod obediently, and in response, Leo gave her onest lingering look before pressing a brief, parting kiss on her lips.


    Hera stood there, lost in thought, until she suddenly felt Luke’s fingers intertwining with hers.


    "Hera, shall we dance?" Luke asked, bringing her hand to his lips for a gentle kiss, as if pleading for her attention. His eyes silently begged, ’<i>Please look at me.’</i>


    Hera’s gaze lingered on Leo’s retreating figure for a moment longer before finally turning to Luke. A faint twinge tugged at her heart, but she nodded in agreement, allowing him to lead her onto the dance floor.


    The moment Hera stepped forward, the soft glow of the lights reflected off her shimmering dress, making her look even more breathtaking. Her elegance,bined with Luke’s effortless charm and striking presence, immediately drew everyone’s attention.


    The other dancers instinctively parted, forming a circle around them, as if granting them center stage. All eyes followed their every move, captivated by the enchanting pair.


    After giving another bow and pressing a soft kiss to the back of Hera’s hand, Luke straightened and offered her a courteous nod before cing one hand on her waist and taking her left hand in his.


    With effortless grace, he began leading the dance, their figures gliding in elegant circles at the center of the hall.


    Hera’s shimmering dress sparkled with every turn, making the scene feel like something out of a dream—a perfect fairy tale. Paired with a partner as charming and refined as a prince, she was utterly captivating.


    At first, the formal waltz seemed simple enough, a dance familiar to those raised with elite etiquette and advanced training.


    However, the true enchantmenty in Luke’s movements—fluid as flowing water—and to everyone’s surprise, Hera matched his steps wlessly. Her grace was undeniable, her movements effortless, like a swan gliding across a tranquilke.


    With her poised elegance and Luke’s expert lead, they looked so perfect together that the spectators couldn’t tear their eyes away.


    They remained in a trance-like state for a long time, the entire hall falling into silence, with only the sound of their footsteps and the soft melody of the music filling the air.


    Until—


    "Shit, I can’t get a good shot! They keep moving around my sweetheart. Ugh."


    Dave’s frustrated murmuring broke the spell, his voice carrying from one side of the hall as he fumbled with his phone, trying to capture the perfect picture.


    No matter how many times he adjusted his angle, something always went wrong—either someone blocked his view, or Hera happened to be mid-turn, showing only her back.


    He wasn’t the only one attempting to snap a picture—Rafael and Zhane were also trying, though with much more subtlety. Meanwhile, Dave’s loud grumbling and exaggerated movements made him painfully obvious.


    Annoyed, Rafael finally lost patience and delivered a swift kick to the back of Dave’s knees. With a startled yelp, Dave’s legs buckled, and he copsed onto the ground with a loud thud.


    "Ugh! Fuck you, Rafael!" Dave snapped, instinctively pressing his phone’s shutter button in his moment of agony. A rapid series of pictures were taken as he gritted his teeth, hissing through the pain. "Fuck, that hurts!"


    Rafael snorted, a smirk tugging at his lips as he angled his phone to take his own shots. "Why are you whining like a sissy?" he mocked.


    Without a word, Dave retaliated, sweeping his leg behind Rafael’s knees in one swift motion. Caught off guard, Rafael had no time to react—unlike Dave’s single stumble, his fall was far worse. Dave had aimed for both knees, sending Rafael crashing down with a loud <i>thud.</i>


    The people nearby winced at the impact, a few sucking in sharp breaths. That <i>had</i> to hurt.


    "UGH!" Rafael groaned, his palms hitting the floor to steady himself. His jaw tightened, irritation shing across his face, ready to unleash a string of curses.


    But before he could get a word out, Dave beat him to it.


    "Oh! What a tough guy you are! Barely even flinched," Dave chuckled as he pushed himself up, dusting off his crisp white tux. His voice dripped with mock admiration, each word deliberate.


    He had just gotten his revenge, and calling Rafael "tough" was a calcted move—ensuring Rafael couldn’tin without contradicting himself. After all, Rafael had just called <i>him</i> a sissy.


    Dave’s eyes crinkled mischievously as he watched Rafael silently swallow his frustration. The real cherry on top?


    Dave had only fallen on <i>one</i> knee, while Rafael had crashed down on <i>both.</i> Knowing Rafael’s knees would likely be bruised ck and blue by morning, Dave couldn’t help but snicker.


    He turned his attention back to his phone, scrolling through the series of idental shots. Most were unusable, with Hera either out of frame or blocked by other dancers. With a sigh, he started deleting the bad ones—until suddenly, his eyes lit up.


    "Ah! I got it!" Dave eximed, his excitement breaking through the moment.


    There it was—a perfect shot of Hera’s radiant face and graceful figure as she twirled, her dress creating an elegant, flowing swirl around her.


    The way Luke guided her through the movement with his hand above hers only entuated Hera’s delicate yet powerful presence. She looked stunning—beautiful yet strong, poised yet confident.


    Zhane had also managed to capture the entire dance on video, so the two quickly shared their collection in the ’<i>Six Musketeers Group Chat’</i>, making sure everyone could admire Hera’s mesmerizing performance.


    Meanwhile, Dave wasted no time cropping Luke out of the picture and setting Hera’s image as his screensaver. Seeing her so refined and breathtaking, he instantly forgot all about the dull ache in his knee.


    "Wait a second... why is Hera’s face so red?" Zhane suddenly pointed out, narrowing his eyes as he zoomed in on the picture.


    The realization hit just as the image sharpened—right behind Hera, Athena was also mid-turn, her face just as flushed. It wasn’t just the lighting or the movement; both of them were clearly blushing.


    Luke, who was dancing closely with Hera, was the first to notice something was off.


    "Hera... are you alright?" he asked hesitantly, his brows furrowing as he took in her appearance. Beads of sweat clung to her forehead, and her face was growing rmingly red.


    At first, he had assumed she was just being shy—perhaps nervous about dancing with him, afraid of making a mistake—but after witnessing how effortlessly she moved, he realized that wasn’t the case.


    Her blush wasn’t from embarrassment; it was deepening by the second, and her breathing was bing ragged.


    It wasn’t exhaustion either. Hera was more than capable of keeping up with the dance, yet something was clearly wrong.


    His concern grew. "Hera... what’s happening?"


    Hera weakly shook her head, struggling to keep her senses intact. "I... I think I’ve been drugged..." she whispered, her voice barely audible and breathless.


    She forced herself to continue dancing as if nothing was wrong, maintaining her graceful movements despite the growing dizziness clouding her mind.


    With all eyes on her, she refused to show any signs of weakness. She didn’t know why she had been drugged or if she was even the intended target, but one thing was certain—this wasn’t an ident.


    Something was very, very wrong.


    Someone was stirring up trouble, and it was clear this was an act of malice.


    Luke’s expression turned to stone the moment he realized Hera had been drugged. His normallyposed face darkened with deadly seriousness as his sharp eyes scanned the dance floor. Then, his gaze locked onto Zen, who looked equally tense, before shifting to Athena—who was just as red-faced as Hera.


    In an instant, the pieces clicked together.


    The wine.