The Ball

In Hillston District, inside a house with a stable and a garden.

Qilingus, with his distinctive broad chin and dark green eyes, glanced at the unconscious Baron Gramir on the floor. He stripped off the baron's clothes and put them on.

Then he strolled to the full-length mirror and watched the black glove on his left hand writhe as though digesting something. Twisted lines appeared across its back.

A few seconds later, Qilingus saw his nose grow straighter in the mirror, his eyebrows thin, his cheeks sag, and his eyes turn pale blue. In height, looks, and bearing, he was now identical to the unconscious Baron Gramir.

After inspecting himself from head to toe several times and practicing a few of the baron's habitual gestures, Qilingus bent down and snapped the real baron's neck. He dragged the body aside and stuffed it into a wardrobe.

"What a hypocritical, stupid noble. He made me waste so much time learning the strange pronunciation of certain words and that so-called aristocratic accent..."

Qilingus scoffed, then dabbed a few drops of amber-colored perfume onto his wrist and rubbed it over different parts of his body. Growing impatient, he thought:

Whoever gathered this information even recorded how long before a party this fool puts on perfume... Did my associates buy off one of his mistresses or his head maid?

Though I seem to have missed the time noted in the report... Whatever. Who'd be bored enough to care how long before a party someone put on perfume? It's the same brand and the same scent anyway.

With that thought, Qilingus instructed the servants not to enter his bedroom without permission. Maintaining the baron's air, he boarded the carriage with the butler in attendance.

At seven that evening, a grand ball was underway at Duke