The music shifted, transforming into a slow, sweet melody that seemed to whisper promises of romance.  My gaze swept the room, searching for the source of the whispers, the man with the white hair and emerald eyes.  And there he was, standing near the edge of the dance floor, his presence radiating a magnetism that drew my eyes like a moth to a flame.  He was even more handsome than I had imagined, his features sharp and defined, his gaze intense and captivating.
 
 Time seemed to slow as he walked towards me, his steps deliberate and purposeful.  My heart hammered against my ribs, a frantic drumbeat echoing the melody of the music.  He stopped before me, his emerald eyes sparkling with a warmth that melted the last vestiges of my doubt.
 
"May I have this dance?" he asked, his voice a low rumble that sent shivers down my spine.  I nodded, speechless, my hand trembling as he took it.  We moved together, our bodies swaying in perfect harmony to the rhythm of the music.  It was magical, a moment suspended in time, a feeling I had never experienced before. 
 
The weight of the world seemed to fade away, leaving only the intoxicating sensation of his touch, the warmth of his gaze, and the sweet melody that filled the air. 
 
"I thought you wouldn't come," I breathed, my voice barely a whisper.  His hand rested gently on my waist, his touch sending a jolt of electricity through me.
 
 
"I couldn't stand seeing you alone in that corner, surrounded by couples," he replied, his voice a low rumble that sent shivers down my spine.  "It felt wrong."
 
"Seeing? You came after me?"  The question tumbled out of my mouth, a mixture of disbelief and a burgeoning hope. 
 
"Of course," he said, a wry smile playing on his lips.  "I admit, I badly wanted to have this moment with you."
 
His words melted away the last vestiges of my doubt, leaving only a warmth that spread through my entire being.  The music, the lights, the dancing couples - all of it faded into the background, leaving only the two of us, lost in a world of our own creation.
 
"I bet you can't see the hint," Kaufman replied, his face falling into a somber expression.
 
"Huh? What hint?" I tilted my head, genuinely confused.
 
"Am I not attractive enough to you?" He asked, his voice laced with a hint of vulnerability.
 
"No! I mean, you're attractive. Even those girls were swooning over you. Of course, you are. And that white suit... it suits you perfectly."  My words tumbled out, a mixture of reassurance and a desperate attempt to clarify my thoughts.
 
"Then why? Zerah, don't you like me? Am I not lovable enough?  Am I not as appealing as Harton?"  His voice was laced with a sadness that mirrored the expression on his face.
 
"Why is Harton connected to our conversation? Of course, I like you!  It's just... I can't express it."  My words were a jumbled mess, my emotions swirling like a tempest inside me.  I couldn't understand why I was struggling to articulate my feelings, why it seemed so difficult to tell him the truth.
 
"I like you," I managed to say, the words feeling inadequate, a pale reflection of the emotions churning within me. 
 
"But I can't say what I feel is love. I don't know what love is." 
The confession hung in the air, heavy with the weight of my own uncertainty.  I'd seen humans express love, witnessed the passion in their eyes, the tenderness in their touch.  But I couldn't grasp the concept, couldn't translate those feelings into my own experience. It was a foreign language, a symphony of emotions I couldn't quite decipher.
"It's fine. You don't have to know what love is," Kaufman said, his voice soft and reassuring.  "But I will let you know what love is, if you wanted to feel it." 
 
His words were a balm to my soul, soothing the anxieties that had been gnawing at me.  He didn't pressure me, didn't demand an answer I wasn't ready to give.  Instead, he offered a gentle understanding, a promise of guidance, a pathway to something I had only glimpsed from afar. 
 
A glimmer of hope ignited within me, a spark of possibility that warmed the chill of my uncertainty.  Perhaps, with his help, I could learn to understand this elusive emotion, to experience the depths of love he promised.
 
The music abruptly stopped, the silence filling the ballroom with a sudden stillness.  We stood in the corner, our bodies close, the warmth of our shared moment lingering in the air.
 
Just then, King Harton noticed us, his gaze sweeping the room before settling on me.  He approached with a charming smile, holding out a crystal goblet filled with a shimmering liquid. 
 
"May I offer you a drink, Ms. Zerah?" he asked, his voice smooth and captivating.
 
"No, thank you. I don't drink alcohol," I replied, politely but firmly.
 
Before King Harton could react, Kaufman stepped forward, his hand outstretched.  "I'll take it," he said, his voice a low rumble, a hint of possessiveness in his tone. 
 
King Harton, momentarily surprised, seemed to hesitate for a moment before handing the goblet to Kaufman.  His eyes flickered between me and Kaufman, a silent question hanging in the air.  The tension in the room was palpable, a silent battle of wills unfolding before our eyes.
 
"Look at the three of them! They are so beautiful. They look like goddesses," a voice whispered from the crowd, the murmur spreading like wildfire through the ballroom.  The gazes of the guests, curious and intrigued, fell upon us, their whispers a testament to the undeniable beauty and power radiating from our trio.
 
I felt a strange sense of unease, the weight of their attention pressing down on me.  The tension between Kaufman and King Harton, the unspoken rivalry, was palpable, a silent storm brewing beneath the surface of polite conversation. 
It was a scene straight out of a fairytale, a love triangle played out in the opulent setting of the grand ball.  And in the center of it all, I stood, caught between two powerful men, my heart torn between two conflicting desires.
 
Well, I've heard that before in human stories, I admitted, a wry smile playing on my lips.  It seems like a common theme, a tale as old as time.  Perhaps there's something about the human heart that craves these kinds of conflicts, the drama, the intrigue, the yearning for something just out of reach.
 
My gaze drifted towards Kaufman, his emerald eyes locked on mine, a silent conversation passing between us. 
 
But I only have eyes for Kaufman, If Harton liked me, he would have asked me to dance before.  He would have made his intentions clear. 
So, I can't tell if this is a love triangle,
 
"Let's go home. So we can rest and talk more tomorrow."  Kaufman nodded, his hand gently brushing against mine as we turned to leave.  But as we took a step, a chilling darkness enveloped the ballroom.  A black hole, swirling with an ominous energy, ripped open in the center of the room.  From its depths, a creature emerged, its form grotesque and menacing, its eyes burning with a malevolent fire.  It lunged towards the nearest group of ladies, its claws outstretched, its guttural roar echoing through the room.  Panic erupted, screams piercing the air as the creature dragged the terrified women into the abyss of the black hole.
 
Kaufman, his face hardening with determination, stepped in front of me, his hand snapping out with a swift, decisive motion.  The creature froze, its body rigid, its movements halted in mid-air.  From seemingly nowhere, a shimmering blade materialized in Kaufman's hand, a weapon of pure energy and power.  With a single, fluid motion, he brought the blade down, severing the creature's head from its body.  The black hole closed, the darkness receding like a tide, leaving behind an eerie silence.
 
"Is no one hurt?" Kaufman asked, his gaze sweeping the room, his voice a reassuring rumble.  His eyes met mine, a flicker of concern momentarily breaking through his stoic facade.  I stood there, speechless, my heart pounding in my chest, my mind reeling from the terrifying spectacle.  He was powerful, brave, and incredibly skilled.  My admiration for him soared to new heights, a wave of awe washing over me.