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May I Have This Dance?

Iori leaned back on her heels as she half paid attention to one of her fellow mystery writers as he talked about the perfect plot for a closed room mystery. Fighting a sigh of annoyance, she smiled and nodded letting him go on with his monologue as she scanned the ballroom for the attendance.

Jun was in a corner talking to one of the printers, they were so engrossed in their conversation that Jun didn’t seem to notice her.

Her heart tightened and her annoyance grew at her colleague who went on from critiquing Conan Doyle to talking about Agatha Christie’s lack of plot tricks. Why the guy was a writer and not a critique was beyond Iori.

Jun’s story had stopped as soon as their driver stopped by to pick them up for the ball, since they arrived two hours ago, they didn’t have a moment for themselves to breathe. Everything was a blur, she was introduced to so many people that her head was spinning and she could barely remember half of them.

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