For social gatherings such as this, it was only natural that those driven by greed and necessity would gather together.
Where ambition pooled, the foul stench of lies, deceit, and quiet manipulation inevitably seeped into the air, clinging unseen yet unmistakable.
"People from the center really can't hide their hunger for money…" a low voice muttered.
"Indeed…"
From one of the far corners of the grand ballroom—just beside the second-floor balcony—a man observed the scene below with an unreadable expression.
Nobles laughed behind gloved hands, merchants exchanged smiles sharpened with calculation, and partners spun across the dance floor as if every step were part of some unspoken negotiation.
His grayish silver hair and eyes marked him as a man of advanced age, yet nothing about his presence felt frail or diminished.
His back was straight, his stance solid—like an old war banner that had weathered countless storms but still refused to fall.
