Kain abandoned the safety of his marble pillar. He crossed the ballroom floor with stiff, measured steps and pulled out the empty velvet chair directly across the oak table from Lexel.
Anthierin's breath hitched. A painful flutter of old, unresolved feelings tightened her chest. Kain represented the ghost of her past, a painful reminder of her ruin. Yet, sitting right beside her, effortlessly commanding the room with sheer, overwhelming presence, Lexel represented a terrifying and entirely unpredictable future.
Kain forced a polite, bewildered laugh, pointing at the devastated mountain of roasted meat on the porcelain plate.
"A staggering appetite," the Champion noted, his blue eyes masking a deep layer of anxiety. "I genuinely cannot fathom how a single man can consume so much."
Lexel chuckled, wiping his hands casually on the pristine linen napkin. "This is nothing. It is barely a light lunch back home."
Mera immediately seized the conversational opening, eager to recover from her previous humiliation. "And where exactly is home, Lexel?" she purred, leaning forward slightly.
Anthierin held her breath. She tilted her head toward Lexel, listening intently. She desperately wanted the answer to that exact question.
Lexel leaned back in his chair, swirling the vintage red wine in his crystal goblet. He flashed a dangerous, razor-sharp smirk, completely brushing off the noblewoman's pry.
"You wouldn't know the place," Lexel answered smoothly. "And honestly, it is much better that you don't."
Mera frowned, her painted fan twitching. "Why is that?"
"Because if you actually knew," Lexel said, his golden eyes sweeping lazily over Kain and Mera, "none of you would dare sit this casually at my table."
He turned his gaze to Anthierin, a playful glint breaking through his aristocratic facade.
"I would probably have to sling Rin over my shoulder and physically force her into that chair," Lexel joked, his deep voice carrying a terrifying undertone of absolute truth. "Where I come from, even the most incredibly stubborn men and women bow when I enter a room."
A heavy, suffocating silence crashed over the table.
Mera swallowed hard, her artificial smile faltering completely. Kain's knuckles turned stark white against the oak wood. Lexel spoke the outrageous claim with such casual, unshakeable confidence that it completely bypassed arrogance. It sounded like an undeniable law of nature.
Anthierin stared at him, her heart hammering wildly against her ribs. She remembered him casually flicking away a steel breastplate. She remembered him handing over a king's ransom in gold without a second thought.
He wasn't joking. He was giving them a completely honest warning.
Mera's mind raced through the extensive genealogical catalogs of the kingdom. She rapidly sifted through the ruling houses of the capital, the sovereign lords of the bordering territories, and the obscure baronies of the outer rim.
The surname 'Torga' yielded absolutely zero results.
A man demanding a bow from stubborn men and women would possess a lineage known across the entire continent. Since his name held absolutely no political weight in her aristocratic education, Mera arrived at a single, highly comforting conclusion. He was completely bluffing. The boy was an incredibly strong, anomalous peasant using borrowed eloquence to play the part of a highborn king.
Across the ballroom, the string quartet suddenly shifted their tempo. The musicians transitioned from gentle background melodies into a grand, sweeping waltz.
Eager to escape the suffocating tension radiating from Lexel's table, the surrounding silk merchants and minor lords quickly offered hands to their partners. They flooded the polished marble floor, hiding their lingering terror behind rehearsed, graceful twirls.
Armed with her renewed, venomous confidence, Mera snapped her painted silk fan shut. She stood up, stepping gracefully around the oak table. She completely ignored Anthierin and extended a delicate, manicured hand directly toward Lexel.
"Since you are so wonderfully versed in the manners of a noble court," Mera challenged, a predatory smile returning to her lips. "I expect you know how to lead a proper dance. Will you honor your host, Lexel?"
Mera extended her delicate, manicured hand directly toward Lexel. "Since you are so wonderfully versed in the manners of a noble court, I expect you know how to lead a proper dance. Will you honor your host, Lexel?"
Lexel leaned back in his velvet-cushioned chair, casually patting his stomach. He entirely ignored her outstretched fingers.
"I just ate half a wild boar," Lexel replied smoothly. "Vigorous physical exertion on a full stomach is a tragic mistake. However, the two of you should absolutely put on a show for the floor."
He shifted his golden eyes across the oak table, locking his gaze entirely on Kain. Lexel flashed a dangerous, challenging smirk.
"A proud, honorable Champion like Kain wouldn't dare refuse his beautiful bride-to-be, right?" Lexel asked.
Kain's jaw clenched tight enough to crack his teeth. The trap was flawlessly sprung. Lexel had weaponized the Champion's own public pride against him. Refusing the dance now would humiliate Mera and completely shatter Kain's chivalrous image in front of the city's wealthy elite.
Defeated by his own status, Kain stood up stiffly. He offered a rigid arm to his deeply frustrated fiancée. Mera shot Lexel one final, venomous glare before taking Kain's arm and letting him guide her away toward the sweeping waltz on the marble floor.
The moment the couple stepped out of earshot, Anthierin leaned in close. The heavy crimson silk of her gown brushed against Lexel's chair.
"What exactly is your plan here, Lexel?" Anthierin whispered urgently, her eyes scanning the room. "You are pushing them to the absolute edge."
Lexel chuckled softly, the sound low and genuinely amused. "I am having fun."
He tilted his head, subtly guiding her gaze across the lavish ballroom.
"Look closely at the crowd, Rin," Lexel instructed quietly. "The wealthy silk merchants and the minor lords are merely confused by my presence. Look at the Baron. Look at Kain. The ones sweating, the ones watching my every single move with absolute, paralyzing dread... those are the individuals holding the actual power in Einjaar City. They realize their absolute authority is a complete illusion."
Anthierin followed his gaze. She saw the Baron gripping his goblet in sheer terror. She saw Kain dancing stiffly, his eyes constantly darting back to their table. Lexel had completely dismantled the ruling hierarchy of the city without throwing a single punch.
Lexel abruptly stood up. He smoothed the front of his dark formal shirt, the lazy, gluttonous aura vanishing entirely.
He turned to Anthierin, looking down at her radiant, crimson-clad figure. He extended a perfectly steady, aristocratic hand toward her.
"Now," Lexel murmured, his golden eyes shining with a captivating, commanding light. "Shall we show them what real royalty looks like?"
Anthierin stared at his outstretched hand. A sudden, fiery flush rushed straight to her cheeks. She grudgingly placed her calloused palm gently over his.
"Just so you know," Anthierin muttered, allowing him to pull her gracefully to her feet. "I possess absolutely zero skill in fighting or hunting. I did dream of being a princess once upon a time. I practiced dancing endlessly in secret."
Lexel's aristocratic facade broke into a genuine, bright smile. "Great!"
He guided her smoothly away from the oak table, stepping directly onto the polished marble floor.
The atmosphere in the grand ballroom shifted immediately. The second the anomalous victor and the radiant blacksmith joined the waltz, every single eye in the room locked onto them.
The wealthy silk merchants and minor lords watched with intense, bewildered curiosity. They desperately analyzed the peasant boy who commanded the room with absolute, terrifying royal authority.
From the head table, the Baron of Einjaar glared with volcanic, unadulterated rage. His thick fingers crushed his silver goblet, the metal groaning under his furious grip.
Out among the swirling dancers, Kain and Mera completely lost their rhythm. The Champion and his fiancée stared at the new couple with sheer, burning resentment.
Lexel ignored the heavy, hostile stares completely. He placed his hand firmly on the small of Anthierin's back, effortlessly pulling her flush against his chest. He took the lead, guiding her perfectly into the sweeping tempo of the string quartet.
Anthierin gasped softly, her heart hammering against her ribs. Lexel moved with breathtaking, liquid grace. His footwork was flawless. The monstrous, blunt-force strength that had shattered a broadsword earlier that day was completely restrained, entirely replaced by the gentle, guiding touch of a seasoned courtier.
He spun her elegantly across the marble, the deep crimson silk of Aunt Heriot's gown flaring out in a beautiful, mesmerizing arc. The surrounding nobles hurriedly stepped back, clearing a wide circle around them.
Gemini said
The string quartet accelerated their tempo. The sweeping waltz transformed into a rapid, breathless rhythm. Mera and Kain glided deliberately across the polished marble, positioning themselves directly beside Lexel and Anthierin.
As the heavy crescendo hit, the couples seamlessly swapped partners.
Kain's gloved hand caught Anthierin's waist. A violent jolt of electricity shot up his arm. The Champion felt a suffocating, paralyzing tension radiate from the woman in his arms. Anthierin stared holes directly through his crisp white uniform. Her burning eyes demanded the answers he had cowardly withheld years ago. He had abandoned her and her father for the glory of the arena, leaving entirely without a single word. Now, the past was actively hunting him down under the harsh glare of the crystal chandeliers, with the roles entirely reversed.
A few feet away, a highly dangerous dynamic unfolded.
Lexel caught Mera's hand. A terrifying, predatory smirk of dark, evil royalty spread across his face.
He took absolute control of the dance. Lexel pulled the noblewoman flush against his chest, moving with a forceful, overwhelming grace that dictated her every step. His footwork was aggressively sensual, pushing her backward across the floor to the quickening beat. He spun her sharply. His fingertips traced the silk along her waist and spine, commanding her movements with burning, terrifying precision.
Mera's breath hitched. She opened her mouth to gasp, thoroughly overwhelmed by the sheer, dominating presence of the young man holding her.
Lexel's hand slid upward. He pressed his index finger lightly, yet firmly, against the side of her neck.
The touch instantly silenced her. Mera let out a soft, involuntary squeal, her knees turning incredibly weak. She felt trapped in a dizzying, suffocating dream. The man she intended to manipulate and seduce was currently unraveling her entirely on her own dance floor.