Polite Lies

The ballroom was designed to impress.

Crystal chandeliers cast warm light over polished marble floors. Soft classical music played in the background, carefully chosen to sound elegant without demanding attention. Politicians, donors, diplomats—everyone wore the same practiced smile, the kind that revealed nothing and promised even less.

Chris moved through the crowd like he belonged there.

Because he did.

Hands reached out to shake his. Compliments followed him wherever he went—measured praise, subtle flattery, quiet promises of future support. He responded with ease, hislexpression calm, posture perfect, voice steady.

If anyone looked closely, they might have noticed how often his gaze drifted.

Not searching.

Avoiding.

“Minister Tarten,” a donor said warmly, holding out a glass. “Your speech earlier—remarkable.”

“Thank you,” Chris replied, accepting the glass without drinking. “I’m glad it resonated.”

He smiled. He nodded. He listened.

And then—

The air changed.

It was subtle. Almost imperceptible. But Chris felt it immediately, like a pressure shift before a storm.

Conversations nearby faltered for half a second. A few heads turned—not out of curiosity, but instinct.

Someone had entered the room who didn’t need an invitation.

Chris didn’t turn around.

He didn’t have to.

“I didn’t expect to see you here,” he said calmly, eyes still fixed on the donor in front of him.

The man blinked. “See who—?”

“I did,” a voice replied behind him. Low. Even. Familiar in a way that made Chris’s spine stiffen.

The donor followed Chris’s gaze, confusion flickering across his face before he excused himself awkwardly.

Chris turned then.

Richard stood a few steps away, dressed impeccably in black. No visible weapon. No entourage. Nothing about him screamed danger—and that was exactly what made him unsettling.

He looked at home.

Chris lifted his chin. “You’re far from your usual circles.”

Richard’s lips curved faintly. “So are you.”

They regarded each other for a moment, two men framed by luxury and light, neither willing to acknowledge what stood between them.

Someone nearby laughed too loudly.

A waiter passed, oblivious.

The world kept spinning.

“You shouldn’t be here,” Chris said quietly.

“I was invited,” Richard replied just as softly.

Chris arched an eyebrow. “By whom?”

“Someone who benefits from neutrality,” Richard said. “You’d be surprised how many people prefer balance over loyalty.”

Chris’s fingers tightened around his glass. “This isn’t your world.”

Richard stepped closer—just enough to be heard, not enough to cause a scene.

“It is,” he said. “You just pretend it isn’t.”

Chris exhaled through his nose. “If this is an attempt to intimidate me—”

“It’s not,” Richard interrupted. “If I wanted to intimidate you, you wouldn’t be standing in public.”

Their eyes locked.

For a heartbeat, the years between them collapsed into nothing.

Then Chris smiled.

A politician’s smile. Polished. Harmless.

“You always did like dramatic entrances,” he said. “Some habits never change.”

Richard studied him, gaze sharp. “Neither does your talent for pretending.”

Chris’s smile thinned. “Careful.”

“Why?” Richard asked. “Because people are watching?”

“Yes,” Chris said flatly.

“Good,” Richard replied. “Then they’ll see how calm you are when facing me.”

Chris leaned in, lowering his voice. “You’re crossing lines.”

“I crossed them years ago,” Richard said. “You just noticed now.”

That hit harder than Chris expected.

He straightened. “Whatever business you think you have with me—it won’t work.”

Richard glanced around the room, at the laughter, the lights, the fragile illusion of control.

“You built this,” he said. “Impressive.”

Then his gaze returned to Chris.

“But power doesn’t erase history.”

Chris’s voice dropped. “History is irrelevant.”

Richard smiled—this time, it didn’t reach his eyes.

“That’s where you’re wrong,” he said. “History is the only thing that survives us.”

A camera flashed somewhere behind them.

Chris turned away first.

“This conversation is over,” he said. “Enjoy the evening.”

He stepped past Richard, forcing himself not to react when Richard leaned in just enough for only him to hear.

“You still walk away when things matter,” Richard murmured. “Some habits really don’t change.”

Chris didn’t stop.

He didn’t look back.

But his pulse betrayed him, loud in his ears as he disappeared into the crowd.

Behind him, Richard remained where he was, watching calmly as Chris vanished among politicians and promises.

Then, quietly, he said to no one—

“Soon.”

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🖤 End of Chapter 4

Guys ik it's a short chapter sorry 😭🙏 btw look at our chibi chris & richard

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