Valentine Gala: Sweet's are ain't good. Part 1
Leon scrutinized them in a heavy silence for a duration before rising from his linens. Standing before his bed, he adjusted and smoothed the blanket with a practiced, calm exactitude. He was garbed in ivory pajamas, and his lengthy white hair cascaded freely down his spine. With his tresses liberated in such a manner, he projected the image of a delicate figure, bordering on the feminine, his snow-like strands falling softly in his wake.
His hands, divested of their usual gloves, revealed a cadaverous and slender aesthetic.
After domesticating his bed, Leon once more cast a glance toward his gallery. Then, he navigated sluggishly toward the white portal of his room. Elevating his right hand, he seized the knob and gently manipulated it open before transgressing the threshold.
He trod barefoot along a corridor carpeted in a deep, arterial red. As he progressed, a maid intercepted him, brandishing a pair of white indoor slippers. She executed a shallow bow and offered a salutation, "Good morning, Leon-sama…" before meticulously depositing the footwear in his path.
Leon offered a minuscule nod and reciprocated the greeting in a muted, gravelly phonation, "Good morning."
He stepped into the slippers and then inquired, "Has Nee-san already departed…?"
The entire retinue—maids, butlers, custodians, and even the culinary staff—was fluent in English. It was orchestrated in this fashion so that Leon would never endure a sense of displacement and communication would remain seamless.
The maid responded with profound deference, "Lady Sonoko has already vacated for the Valentine gala."
Leon nodded. "I understand."
The maid straightened her posture as Leon persisted in his transit toward the kitchen. He had tempered the chocolates the previous day, and now he intended to sequester them in parcels to be dispatched to his grandfather, mother, father, and elder sister. Due to a myriad of personal entanglements and professional obligations, they were unable to repatriate.
Presently, only Leon and his sister Sonoko inhabited the sprawling mansion.
As Leon reached the kitchen threshold, the maid hurried forward to manipulate the double doors for him. He acknowledged her with a nod and stepped within.
While Leon commenced his day in stoic solitude—
The Valentine party had also ignited.
The convocation was hosted at the residence of the master of ceremonies, a man named Minagawa. He was an aesthetically gifted individual and the captain of the tennis squadron at Beika University. He had extended invitations to his club associates along with two newfound acquaintances—Sonoko and Ran. They had encountered one another recently at a high-tier restaurant on a Sunday, and after cultivating an acquaintance, Minagawa had proffered an invitation to his impending festivities.
After a interval, the assembly had congregated in the living room, and the celebration was officially inaugurated.
"CHEERS!!!"
They all bellowed, elevating their vessels and clinking them in a cacophonous salute.
Once the initial fervor subsided, a gentleman garbed in a crimson shirt stood and addressed the room, "Now then, let us introduce our Beika University tennis club to our two guests—Ran Mouri-san and Sonoko Suzuki-san. Minagawa, you initiate the introductions."
"Very well. I am Katsuhiko Minagawa, the captain. It is a pleasure to host you both."
As he identified himself, his gaze migrated toward Sonoko and Ran. The duo nodded with polite restraint and replied, "The pleasure is ours." Although they had previously exchanged identities, this functioned as a more formal presentation before the collective.
Ran peered at Sonoko with a mask of perplexity. "You are behaving atypically. Usually, when a handsome fellow salutes you, you lose all sense of decorum."
Sonoko pivoted toward her with a slight knit of her brow. "What do you imply by losing decorum?" she retorted before shifting her scrutiny back to Minagawa. "Indeed, he is aesthetically pleasing… but compared to my brother, he exists on a completely inferior tier."
Ran scrutinized Minagawa's countenance once more and offered a slow, contemplative nod. "Then why invite a comparison to your younger brother? Were you not the individual most electrified regarding this gala?"
"I merely ventured here to ascertain if any mortal possessed enough aesthetic charm to rival my brother," Sonoko rejoined, interlacing her fingers with a theatrical flourish. "That is my singular objective."
She swept her gaze across the chamber, scrutinizing every inhabitant present, before oscillating her head in a gesture of profound disenchantment. "It appears my search was in vain."
Ran fixed her with a flat stare, shaking her head at the sheer absurdity of Sonoko's rationale.
The next individual ascended to offer her introduction—a lithe woman garbed in denim. "I am Kaori Sekiya. It is a pleasure to meet you both."
Ran and Sonoko suspended their private discourse, returning the salutation with practiced civility.
Then, the gentleman in the crimson shirt redirected his focus toward the portly youth who had been nursing a glass of orange juice in somber silence, his aura radiating gloom throughout the duration of the gathering.
"Hey, Naomichi, the floor is yours."
Naomichi offered no verbal retort. He disregarded the prompt entirely, persisting in his sipping without deigning to offer so much as a fleeting glance.
The man in the red shirt exhaled a weary sigh. "Truly… your disposition is remarkably morose, you realize that?"
Naomichi gradually elevated his gaze, boring into him with a fierce, predatory stare—his eyes sharpened with an unwelcoming intensity.
Before the burgeoning friction could solidify, another woman, draped in a snowy white gown, stepped forward to bridge the silence.
"I am Yoshimi Watanabe. A pleasure to make your acquaintance."
"The pleasure is ours," Ran and Sonoko harmonized, reciprocating her greeting with polite grace.
Finally, the spotlight migrated to the man in the crimson shirt.
"And then, there is me—the formidable, yet profoundly sensitive, Toshihide Wakamatsu!"
To punctuate his self-introduction, he audaciously flexed his brawny physique before them.
The assembly erupted into a chorus of laughter at his hyperbolic bravado; nevertheless, his flamboyant antics served to fracture the tension, infusing the room with the vibrant, spirited atmosphere essential for such a gala.
Beyond the threshold of the living room, Conan conducted a clandestine surveillance from a covert distance. He remained ensconced nearby, his mind fixated on deciphering the identity of the recipient for the chocolates Ran had meticulously prepared the previous evening.
"Tch… she seems to be enjoying herself immensely…" Conan grumbled beneath his breath, the sound of their mirth grating against his ears.
AM N. NOT.(っ－＿－)っ♤♤DRAFT♤♤