All pairs of eyes were focused on the conductor as he lifted his baton and with an exaggerated wave of his mechanical hand, brought the small group of musicians to life. A beautiful yet haunting classical waltz piece filled the halls and couples took to the dance floor. Soon, an array of colorful dresses and tuxedos were swishing around in an almost hypnotic manner, occupying every foot of the space without treading on each other’s toes. It was a time of celebration and fun for most. But also a time of opportunity and danger for a select few.

Through the overlaid display in the corner of her eyes, Myran surreptitiously eyed the green-eyed gentleman clad in a black tuxedo who stood across the hall. He was incredibly good-looking with his hair sleeked to the back and his penetrating eyes that seemed to be able to peer into your soul. Many women had tried to goad him into dancing with them but he had rejected all of them pretty curtly. Apparently, he didn’t possess the silver tongue that men of his trade usually had.

Knowing that he must have already scoured the place like she did, it was really a matter of time before one of them made a move on the other. Myran took another sip of her wine, examining him through the reflection off the glass. He had put down his wine glass and was walking in her direction. Smirking to herself, she pretended not to notice as he cleared his throat behind her.

“Oh,” Myran exclaimed in mock surprise as her eyes met his. She immediately felt herself being drawn into the confident and collected aura that he exuded.

“I’m sorry to startle you but would you care for a dance?” He offered his hand, bending slightly at the waist.

She took his calloused hand and smiled gently. “Thank you. I would very much like to.”

As the two of them walked to the center of the dance floor, heads turned and many jealous looks were thrown Myran’s way. Ignoring the attention that she was getting, she placed her hand on his shoulder whereas his other hand fell to her slim waist. The two of them were an arm’s length apart, moving in time with the triple beat of the piece.

“So, what is your line of work, if I may ask?” Myran inquired as she swayed to the rhythm.

“I’m a ferryman,” came his short answer.

Chuckling, she brushed some imaginary dust from his shoulder. “I’m curious. What kind of people do you normally have on the ferry?”

His lips curled up ever so slightly as he replied, “People like you, in fact. Those with deadly charm.”

Her mouth formed a small ‘o’ as she winked at him. “You are a sweet talker too huh, mister. I dare say the one with deadly charm is you.”

“We shall see about that, shall we?” he smirked as he tilted his right foot slightly before bringing it back to its original position.

In a split second, he closed the distance but Myran had already anticipated his move. She let go of his shoulder, moving to the side with her arm spread out so that both of them were now in a straight horizontal line. The open nature of her current waltz position exposed the blade protruding from his right shoe and he immediately whipped it back out of sight.

In accordance with waltz protocol, she twirled back towards him, her dress billowing out into a beautiful circle around her waist. She discretely stretched her arm out a little more than necessary and firmly snapped it back into position, causing a little signet ring to poke out of her sleeve.

Her dexterous little finger bent into her palm and slipped the ring on before pulling it out of the grip of the mechanical device. Now that the ring was securely on her finger, she thumbed the side of it and a small sharp needle emerged from its surface, its tip covered in poison - the most advanced bioweapon currently available on the black market - that would render a human dead within seconds.

As Myran neared him, her heartbeat accelerated, every muscle in her body tense and awaiting the next move. The distance between the two of them was decreasing rapidly. In just another second, she would be able to lay her hand back on his shoulder and just prick the needle through the fabric of his suit.

But as her hand reached out to deliver the touch of death, his eyes darted to her ring. He grabbed her neck and forcefully yanked her down so that she was now lying on his arm. Her other arm with the signet ring instinctively wrapped around his neck with the needle facing away from his body.

She couldn’t twist your finger to prick him, not with the force that she had to exert to keep herself upright. And neither could he make a move while he was still supporting her in this position. They stared at each other, silently daring the other to do something. The longer they locked gazes, the more she was mesmerized by his green hues. He too seemed to be relishing in the moment for his lips twitched upward slightly.

Finally breaking the silence, Myran gave a lilting laugh. “Seems like you’re a great dancer too.”

“And so are you,” he replied, lifting her up while his other hand held the arm she had around his neck, pinning her little finger into position.

When she was securely on both feet, he removed her arm from his neck, still gripping her fingers tightly. As he let go of her fingers one by one, his middle finger slipped to the side of the ring, rubbing the outer rim which triggered the mechanism to slowly retract the poisonous needle.

He took a step back, giving her a small smirk. The dance had ended in a stalemate but the night was still young.

“I guess this counts as a draw then,” she teased, “as to who’s the better dancer. Want to go for another round?”

His eyes twinkled in amusement. “I would love to. But first..”

He snapped his fingers and a waiter appeared at his side with a bottle of vintage wine. Pouring the wine into the two glasses on the tray, he handed her one of the glasses. She accepted with a smile and discreetly studied the blood-red liquid that sloshed in the glass. Although she couldn’t find anything wrong with it, she decided to play it safe.

“To our coincidental meeting.” He raised his glass, a tiny smirk on his lips.

“Coincidental, indeed.” She clinked glasses with him and waited for him to drink first.

Nodding at her, he said, “Oh, please do savor it first. As the person who provided the wine, it would be impolite of me to take the first sip.”

Myran gave a small smile as she raced through all the possible actions she could take. Lifting the glass to her lips, she was struck with a brilliant but crazy idea. Her lips opened slightly, allowing a little wine to spill into her mouth.

He watched as a bulge in her throat formed and travelled downwards, indicating that she had swallowed the poisonous wine. She walked towards him, smiling flirtatiously at him as she swayed her hips in time with the music. When she were barely a few inches away from him, she stopped and wrapped her arms around his neck.

Leaning in, she pressed her lips to his, surprising him. After a few seconds, his lips parted, giving her access to his mouth. She took the opportunity and deepened the kiss, at the same time using her tongue to push the poisonous wine that she had pretended to swallow into his mouth. Shocked by the sudden turn of events, he inadvertently swallowed his own wine.

Myran took a step back, watching as his eyes widened in horror. He clutched at his throat as the poison took effect. She grimaced slightly as he started to gag, blood trickling down from his mouth. Falling to his knees, he looked at her with a smile on his ashen face.

He mouthed a silent “You win” before collapsing to the floor, his eyes closing as death consumed his soul. Before people started to panic, she walked away from the ballroom just as the music came to an end. Once she was outside with no one around, she tore away the flesh mask and wig that she was wearing, reassuming her identity as Shea Reman, private Ferryman – like the dead Johann – working for a company that specialized in escorting people to the other world in the most glorious manner possible.

And for this mission she completed, the dossier she had been given had only one line.

When the dance ends, so does a life.