Rays of moonlight peeked in through the arched windows of the grand ballroom. One could observe all the flowers, fancy dresses, waiters serving appetizers — all the makings of a grand party. Only one detail made it a special party. At the very end of the room, where a stage platform was set up, was a large painting of an idyllic lake scene. Curtains that had been covering it lay to the side after the revealing. One corner of the curtain was caught on the stand the owner used to reveal the painting. However, only one person had made this observation.
Our lone observer was a beautiful blonde with her long hair in an elegant updo and her slender figure emphasized in a floor-length white dress containing a revealing low back. Amidst her friends and admirers, she sipped her cider and gazed at the owner thoughtfully.
This demon seems bolder than the usual. Having such a large scale party right before the night I announce the heist will be executed? There aren’t even an abnormal number of guards.
The owner, a man, in addition to the usual characteristic coldness of the eyes of a possession, was looking awfully smug.
He’s got something, some sort of trump or safety card. But what?
Jeanne scanned the rest of the room slowly. She saw no extra traps, lasers or the like. Her eyes stopped on a young man clad in what appeared to be from the book, “Sherlock Holmes”.
Well, well. Who’s this? He’s got a competent feel to him and his eyes have a rather sharp expression for a painting-viewing party. He’s not at all dressed either. I suppose I should find out who this fellow is. Charm on~
The girl pardoned herself from the group and picked up another glass of cider from a passing waiter with a nod of thanks. Smoothly, she made her way over to the young Sherlock. When she got to him, Jeanne held out the cider to him with a smile that had charmed many.“Enjoying the party?”
“Always,” came the answer, smooth and confident with a hint of amicable amusement in his tone. Hakuba took the cider gently, nodding his thanks, and offered a smile of his own in kind.
Parties like this were something that he was used to. Indeed, it was rare that he went more than a couple of weeks without being dragged to one high society function or the other, particularly when home in London. Far less usual, but still not rare, was attending such a thing for work. He still wore his formals, but underneath the brown cloak and deerstalker cap which, while he acknowledged the impropriety of it, did make him stand apart from the other black suits and ties present. This is what his employer had wanted and, in truth, what he himself desired.
It was far easier to pick him out of a crowd for the lurking paparazzi that way.
“And yourself, miss- ah, I don’t believe I caught your name. Who, may I ask, do I have the pleasure of meeting?”
She was beautiful, there was no question about that. Although he was on the case, Hakuba was not about to dismiss his own interest.