The day of the imperial princess’s birthday arrived beneath clear blue skies. Amos knew this because he woke up to six maids standing around his bed holding formal clothing las ready as a runner at the starting line.
“No.”
“Young Master,” one maid said carefully, “the carriage departs in two hours.”
“No.”
“Elena instructed us to prepare you.”
“Then Elena too has betrayed me.”
“Yes,” Elena said from the doorway.
That damn traitorous maid.
Amos sat upright slowly before immediately regretting it.
The dragon eyes flared to life instinctively, flooding the room with shimmering mana. Nearby, a formal outfit radiated wealth into his very soul—black and dark crimson, adorned with gold-thread embroidery spun into mana-resistant silk, and the Kyros crest stitched subtly near the collar. Amos stared at the outfit for several long seconds.
“Gahdamn that look expensive.”
Elena stepped closer calmly.
“Please prepare yourself.”
Amos pointed weakly at the clothes.
“This feels like corruption.... I love it.”
An hour later.
Amos stood before the mirror in full formal attire and immediately understood.
His black coat fit snugly against his frame, the dark crimson lining highlighting the sharpness of his look. The Veil Ring muted the intense pressure radiating from him, leaving only faint traces of his presence. Golden hair, slightly tousled. Green eyes, now calmer, with subtle hidden crimson rings beneath.
Honestly?
He looked exactly like the kind of noble that takes advantage of his family reputation and power.
Disturbing.
“I look damn good.”
“Young Master is handsome,” a maid whispered unconsciously.
Amos immediately pointed at her.
“See? Someone got a good taste.”
Elena adjusted his collar with clinical calm.
“Please avoid saying strange things at the palace.”
“No promises.”
“That answer was expected.”
Knock.
A maid entered carefully.
“Young Master, Young Lady Ambrosia is ready.”
Amos blinked once, then made his way straight to the hallway. Several nearby servants straightened nervously as he passed—not just out of fear anymore, but because something about the Young Master had shifted lately. The air around him felt calmer now, the pressure subdued.
Amos stopped outside Ambrosia’s room.
He knocked properly.
“Come in.”
He opened the door casually.
Then froze instantly.
OH NO!
Ambrosia stood near the center of the room while two maids adjusted the final details of her outfit.
She wore a soft silver-white dress, elegant without being over the top. Layers of delicate fabric drifted around her like moonlight on water, while tiny sapphire accents adorned her sleeves and her pale blonde hair rested neatly across her shoulders.
Amos stared silently for several seconds too long.
Ambrosia noticed immediately.
Then became visibly more nervous.
“Does it look strange?”
Direct critical damage.
Amos’s brain stopped functioning temporarily.
Elena sighed softly behind him.
“Young Master.”
“Sorry.”
Amos recovered instantly before walking further inside.
“No, you look”
He paused.
“Very good.”
Ambrosia blinked.
Then her face slowly reddened.
“Thank you.”
One maid nearby looked dangerously close to smiling at the interaction.
“You still look nervous.”
“A little.”
“A little?”
“A lot.”
“Understandable.”
Amos walked closer before holding out one hand dramatically.
“Well then.”
Ambrosia blinked.
“What?”
“Shall we?”
Silence.
Then, slowly and carefully,
She placed her hand into his. Quite cold her hand is, slightly trembling.
Amos’s expression softened instinctively.
“There.”
Ambrosia looked up at him quietly.
“You’ve me now.”
Some of the tension in her shoulders eased.
Elena destroyed the atmosphere immediately.
“The carriage is waiting.”
Tragic.
Outside the estate—
The main Kyros carriage stood prepared beneath rows of waiting knights.
A carriage with a black reinforced frame, gold-trimmed edges, dragon motifs subtly carved into the doors, adorned with mana crystals embedded near the wheels.
Amos stopped walking briefly.
“Father really travels around in this?”
“Yes,” Elena answered.
“That explains so much.”
The surrounding knights bowed instantly the moment Amos and Ambrosia approached.
“Young Master.”
“Young Lady.”
Ambrosia instinctively stiffened slightly from the attention.
Amos noticed immediately.
He gave her hand a gentle squeeze a tiny, almost imperceptible gesture, yet enough to reassure her. She eased back into calm. Good. Very good.
Then suddenly the carriage door opened from inside.
Amos froze.
Lord Aros sat there already wearing formal black attire that somehow made him look even more terrifying than usual.
Amos immediately stopped walking.
“Father.”
“Yes.”
“Why are you here?”
Aros looked at him calmly.
“I also will be attending the imperial banquet.”
“That sounds almost logical when you say it like that.”
“Young Master forgot Master is also invited,” Elena added helpfully.
“Not now, Elena.”
Aros’s gaze shifted briefly toward Ambrosia.
She lowered her head instinctively.
“Good morning, Lord Aros.”
“Good morning.”
Silence.
Terrifying silence.
Lord Aros silently looked back toward Amos holding Ambrosia's hand.
Amos blinked.
“Yes?”
A pause.
Then the faintest narrowing of Aros’s eyes.
“Good for you.”
Amos froze.
HUH?
Which Amos immediately distrusted Elena adjusted his collar for the third time.
“Young Master is simply nervous.”
“I am not nervous.”
“You have been fixing your sleeves every two minutes.”
“That is because formal clothing makes me uncomfortable.”
Black and deep crimson layered beneath silver embroidery. The coat fit perfectly across Amos’s shoulders now that the dragon blood had strengthened his body. His green eyes seemed sharper beneath neatly styled golden blond hair.
Across from him sat Ambrosia.
Amos finally understood why kingdoms could collapsed over beautiful women.
Her pale-blonde hair had been carefully braided with silver accessories that shimmered softly beneath the sunlight. The dress chosen for her was elegant without being overwhelming, white and pale blue layered delicately enough to soften her nervous posture instead of highlighting it.
She looked Amos blinked slowly.
“Wonderful.”
Ambrosia looked up immediately.
“What?”
“Elena.”
“Yes.”
“I guess I have something to focus on the way to the capital.”
Ambrosia’s face immediately reddened.
He leaned forward slightly.
“There are approximately three kinds of noble boys at this banquet.”
Ambrosia blinked.
“Three?”
“Yes.”
He raised one finger.
“The cowards.”
Another finger.
“The idiots.”
Then a third.
“And the foolish.”
Elena nodded calmly.
“Accurate, Young Master is in one of the three”
“Oi”
...
The carriage ride toward the imperial capital became one of the most emotionally complicated experiences of Amos’s life because Lord Aros Kyros sat directly across from them in complete silence. The atmosphere inside the carriage was unbearable.
Amos sat stiffly beside Ambrosia while trying very hard to look natural.
Unfortunately, there was nothing natural about sitting three feet away from a man who radiated enough pressure to rival a dragon. Meanwhile Aros calmly read documents as if his mere existence was not psychologically oppressive.
How does he do that?
Amos glanced sideways toward Ambrosia.
She looked equally tense.
Aros spoke without looking up.
“Your posture is poor.”
Amos nearly jumped.
“The Heir should not slouch during formal appearances as that will reflects poorly upon House Kyros.”
Amos immediately straightened instinctively.
“Yes, Father.”
“Better.”
Ambrosia stared downward politely with both hands folded carefully over her lap.
“Oh.”
Ambrosia blinked slightly.
“What?”
“The capital.”
That finally drew her attention.
She turned fully toward the carriage window, enough that even Amos forgot the intimidating man across from them. Beyond the glass, the imperial capital stretched on without end—broad white stone roads teeming with people and carriages, towering buildings hung with banners and lit by glowing magical lamps, golden bridges arching over crystal-clear waterways winding through the city, and markets bursting with merchants calling out from every corner. Countless lives flowing beneath the heart of the Empire. And above it all the Imperial Palace rose in the distance, perched on high ground and watching over the entire capital.
Ambrosia stared silently at the city.
“It’s huge.”
“Yeah.”
Even Amos felt a bit overwhelmed. It was as if fantasy had stepped right into reality. Mana lights drifted above the streets, glowing even in daylight. Far overhead, airships cruised lazily beyond the outer districts. Massive magical screens flashed announcements in bustling plazas. His dragon eyes betrayed him again and again—every lavish building seemed to shine. Amos rested his hand lightly against the window.
Aros finally glanced upward from his documents.
“The capital contains the highest concentration of magical artifacts in the Empire.”
“Father.”
“Yes.”
“Why would you tell me that?”
“You should learn restraint.”
“That sounds impossible now.”
Ambrosia quietly hid another smile.
Aros noticed.
The carriage continued deeper into the capital.
Gradually, the outer districts slipped away behind them, giving way to the noble district. Larger estates lined the streets, the roads were cleaner, and the magical security was far more intense. Every building exuded old money and political power, and even the air seemed different here.
Then—Amos caught sight of something outside. A massive bookstore, stretching across three whole floors, its windows adorned with magical displays floating in midair. His eyes widened at the sight.
“Ambrosia.”
She looked over.
“What?”
He pointed using his thumb dramatically outside.
“There.”
Ambrosia followed his gaze.
Then blinked.
“The bookstore?”
“Yes.”
Silence.
“You look more excited about that than the Imperial Palace.” Elena said.
“Correct.”
Elena looked tired already.bAmbrosia stared toward the bookstore a little longer before quietly speaking.
“Can we really go tomorrow?”
Amos blinked, then gave a faint smile.
“Of course.”
A pause.
“You promised.”
“Yeah,” he answered softly.
“I did do that yesterday didn't I?”
Because the carriage began slowing.
Outside.
The Imperial Palace gates loomed ahead—grand white structures strengthened by magic formations and flanked by rows of imperial knights in gleaming silver armor. An endless line of noble carriages stretched toward the entrance, while banners of countless houses rippled under the warm afternoon sun. The banquet was already underway.
Ambrosia immediately stiffened beside him again.
Amos noticed instantly.
So naturally—
He leaned slightly closer and lowered his voice.
“Remember.”
She looked toward him quietly.
“If anyone annoys you…”
“You will take care of it?”
“Correct.”
A tiny smile appeared on her lips again.
Lord Aros closed the document in his hands, the sound carrying an air of authority. The atmosphere in the carriage shifted instantly, prompting even Amos to straighten without thinking. Aros’s calm golden eyes swept over them before turning toward the palace outside.
“The moment we leave this carriage,” he said evenly, “you both represent House Kyros.”
Amos suddenly felt the weight of those words. The strongest of the ducal house in the Empire.
Aros’s gaze settled briefly on Amos.
“Do not embarrass me.”
Amos answered immediately.
“I’ll do my best.”
A pause.
“That response concerns me.”
“That’s fair.”