The Painter's Imagination

With a goal in mind, Iver continued swaying in the center of the dance floor while secretly listening to the conversations around him and observing everyone's every move.

Several minutes passed this way.

Under normal circumstances, the song would have ended by now. The dancers should have taken the opportunity to rest before another group took their place... But the people here showed no sign of stopping.

The smiling band continued playing without pause, while the sorrowful dance music showed no sign of ending—it simply looped endlessly.

Still seeing no abnormalities among the people around him, Iver maintained his smile and softly greeted the girl in front of him. "Hello."

"Hello, sir."

The girl replied politely in a clear voice.

Hearing how she addressed him, Iver's heart stirred.

This probably means she doesn't know me either...

Following her lead, he replied with an unconcerned smile, speaking at roughly the same volume as the surrounding guests. "When did you arrive?"

"I arrived late, about two days ago. But I still arrived before you, sir."

The girl said this with a smile.

Iver was somewhat surprised. "How do you know?"

The girl's gaze fell on the wineglass still clutched in Iver's hand—even though her right hand had its five fingers tightly clasped around Iver's left hand, he still hadn't let go of the glass. He had no idea what it was meant for.

The girl answered, "Because you haven't finished your wine."

"...Mm."

"If you feel tired later," the girl said with a smile, "remember to stop and finish your wine first."

"Thank you."

Iver said gently, "How should I address you?"

"My name is Sasha, sir."

The girl spoke softly.

Hearing that name, Iver paused slightly.

He remembered... The painting he was currently completing was called The Tower of the Banquet.