As Kael hurried back to the manor, his footsteps echoed sharply against the stone pathway. He instinctively glanced at the ornate clock mounted near the main hall entrance, his breath hitching when he saw the time.
5:36 PM.
The digits seemed to glare at him, a silent reminder of how little time remained. The banquet was scheduled to begin at 7:00 sharp, and being late was not an option—especially not for someone in his position. A knot tightened in his chest as he broke into a run, weaving through the familiar corridors of the manor with practiced urgency.
Servants bowed and stepped aside as he passed, startled by his rare display of haste. Kael paid them no mind. His thoughts were already racing ahead—faces he would have to greet, nobles he would need to outmaneuver, and expectations he would be forced to uphold.
He reached his bedroom and pushed the door open without slowing.
Inside, the room was immaculately prepared, just as he had expected. The curtains had been drawn back, allowing the fading amber light of the evening sun to spill across the polished floor. At the center of the room, laid neatly atop the bed, rested his suit for the banquet.
The fabric was pristine and dark, tailored perfectly to his frame, every crease precise and intentional. Gold-threaded accents traced subtle patterns along the cuffs and collar—understated, yet undeniably noble. It wasn't merely clothing; it was a statement, crafted to command respect the moment he stepped into the hall.
For a brief moment, Kael stood still, catching his breath as he stared at the suit. The calm order of the room stood in stark contrast to the storm of thoughts swirling within him. Then, exhaling slowly, his expression hardened with resolve.
There was no more time to waste.
Tonight's banquet was not just a formality—it was a battlefield dressed in silk and crystal, and he intended to step onto it fully prepared.
Once Kael finished dressing, the change was immediate and striking.
The suit clung to him perfectly, as though it had been tailored with his every movement in mind. The dark fabric accentuated his tall, lean frame, lending him an air of quiet authority. The fitted coat broadened his shoulders, while the clean lines along his waist sharpened his silhouette, making him appear composed and formidable all at once.
A crisp white shirt lay beneath, its high collar framing his neck and jaw, drawing attention to his sharp features. The gold-threaded accents along the cuffs and buttons caught the light subtly—not flashy, but refined. Each movement caused the fabric to shift smoothly, betraying no stiffness, only controlled confidence.
His dark hair, slightly tousled yet disciplined, fell naturally around his face, enhancing the contrast between his pale skin and intense gaze. When he straightened his posture and adjusted his cuffs, the figure reflected in the mirror no longer looked like someone racing against time—but like a noble prepared to command a hall filled with powerful figures.
There was a calm weight to his presence now.
Not arrogance—but certainty.
Clad in the suit, Kael no longer looked like a participant in the banquet.
He looked like someone the banquet had been waiting for.
Kael paused before the full-length mahogany mirror, studying his reflection. The transformation was undeniable. The charcoal wool hugged his frame with razor-sharp precision, the silk tie resting perfectly against the stark white of his collar.
A cold, cynical smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth as he adjusted his cuffs.
"…This trash," he muttered under his breath, eyes narrowing as if mocking himself, "has something only a handful of people have."
As he stepped out of his room, the corridor fell into an unnatural silence.
Every maid who caught sight of him froze, cheeks warming as their gazes lingered a second too long. Some hurriedly looked away, others lowered their heads, hearts inexplicably racing. Soft whispers followed in his wake, quickly suppressed yet impossible to fully contain.
Unaware—or uncaring—Kael walked on.
As he moved toward the grand hall where his family awaited him, his footsteps slowed, his expression settling into calm indifference. The murmurs of the manor faded into the background as his thoughts drifted to the true purpose of the night.
This banquet was not merely a celebration.
It was a statement.
Hosted by King Ayther, ruler of the Valentina kingdom, it commemorated the successful admission of his daughters—Princess Henna and Princess Teena—into the Silver Spire Academy. An achievement few could boast of.
The academy was not simply a place of learning; it was a symbol of absolute prestige and power. Gaining entry alone elevated one's status across the entire continent.
Naturally, every notable family had been invited—dukes, marquises, high-ranking nobles, and influential figures whose names carried weight in both politics and magic. Attendance was not a choice, but an obligation. Absence would be interpreted as a direct insult to the crown.
And of course, the Arion family stood among them.
As one of the kingdom's ducal houses, their presence was expected—no, required. The Arion name carried generations of authority, military distinction, and political influence. For Kael, this banquet was not merely about honoring the princesses' success; it was another stage where reputations were weighed, alliances tested, and hidden intentions quietly observed.
As he continued forward, faint laughter reached his ears—soft, warm, and familiar.
His sister's voice rang lightly among it, animated and bright, while his parents spoke with restrained pride. Their conversation circled endlessly around a single topic.
The academy.The Silver Spire.
He didn't need to hear the details to understand what they were discussing. Plans. Expectations. Futures carefully arranged.
None of which included him.
His parents knew it well, just as the rest of the family did.
Kael was talentless.
At least, that was what everyone believed.
Yet, as he listened to them speak about his future—quietly, cautiously, without mockery or disdain—his heart filled with an unfamiliar warmth.
Not hope.Not resentment.
Just understanding.
And beneath it all, something colder began to settle.
Resolve.