Lily stood.
The marble was cold against her satin shoes, but the energy surging through her legs felt like liquid fire.
A collective gasp shattered the ballroom’s silence. Her mother fainted. Her father dropped his crystal champagne glass—it shattered, but the sound was instantly swallowed by a sudden, phantom orchestra. Unseen hands dragged a violent, frantic waltz across the violins.
The ragged boy didn’t even glance at the crowd. He stepped in, his dirt-stained hand firmly clasping her waist, and spun her.
Lily gasped. She wasn’t just walking; she was flying. Her pink dress flared as they swept across the floor in a perfect, blinding blur. She laughed wildly, years of misery morphing into pure, adrenaline-fueled ecstasy.
Then came the first heavy *thud*.
A billionaire tech mogul collapsed sideways.
*Thud. Thud.*
A diamond-draped heiress crashed into a gold-plated table. The mayor fell backward, rigid against a massive marble pillar.
One by one, the wealthy elites dropped. They weren’t dead. Their chests still rose and fell. Their eyes darted frantically, wide and panicked, but their bodies were entirely locked in horror. They couldn’t move a single muscle.
The phantom music abruptly snapped to a halt.
Lily stopped spinning, standing perfectly balanced on her own two feet. She stared breathless at the sea of paralyzed aristocrats.
The boy casually scooped up his dropped white rose. Its pristine petals were rapidly bleeding into a venomous, inky black.
“What did you do?” Lily whispered, trembling.
The boy smirked, smoothly plucking a heavy diamond watch from the frozen mayor’s wrist. “A simple trade, Lily. Miracles require energy. I just siphoned it from those who had too much to spare.”
He tucked the watch into his burlap pocket and offered a theatrical bow.
“Keep the legs. Enjoy the party.”
Before she could speak, he dissolved into a flurry of black ash, leaving Lily standing tall in a magnificent ballroom of living statues.