"The suspect probably disappeared somewhere around here. Keep your eyes peeled."
A man in a standard Level-Two Patrol Officer uniform and khaki military boots frowned deeply as he instructed his subordinates:
"But be careful. Many of the guests here are distinguished visitors from across the cosmos. Don't make too much of a scene."
"Yes, boss." The plainclothes Hound nodded respectfully, his face brimming with fighting spirit.
Of course, it was all an act. How many Credits did he make a month? Why would he risk his life for this?
They had just seen it themselves. That stowaway had turned into a silver mech while running. If they cornered her, she might just decide to take them down with her.
As he was thinking, the plainclothes Hound raised a brow and looked toward a certain spot on the dance floor.
His eyes narrowed as though he had spotted a familiar figure.
"Boss... don't you think that lady on the dance floor is the stowaway we've been tracking?"
The Level-Two Patrol Officer followed the direction he pointed and saw the silver-haired girl supporting a young man, her dance steps slightly inexperienced yet not stiff.
Quite a few gentlemen and ladies at the venue had also turned their attention toward the pair.
Because in them, they saw their own first time wrapping an arm around their lover's waist, taking her hand, and slowly turning through the dance.
They had been just as green back then, and they had needed time to learn each other's rhythm.
Yet those memories that marked the beginning, the faint smiles after mistakes and the apologetic looks in their eyes, had been polished again and again in the depths of memory's corridors.
Even those little embarrassments could become emotions worth savoring.
Beneath the silver dome chandelier that scattered brilliant