Zephyr had a checklist that morning:
•Sweep the west wing
•Polish the chandelier
•Avoid eye contact with students asking dumb questions
•
Do not get involved in this week’s social event
Easy.
Until Professor Figgs ran up shouting:
“Zephyr! We’re short a serving staff member for the Founders’ Ball tonight! I need someone discreet—no presence, no ego, no scandal—”
“You want the janitor.”
“Exactly!”
Zephyr sighed. “…Fine. I’ll serve drinks and disappear.”
He didn’t realize the outfit came with
white gloves, a mask, and a fitted black tailcoat that made him look like a romance novel cover model.
Meanwhile, at the Academy Ballroom…
The annual
Founders’ Ball
was in full swing — nobility, scholars, and elite students gathered under a magical starfield ceiling.
And the talk of the night?
“Who’s the masked butler with the breathtaking jawline?”
“He handed me a napkin and I almost proposed.”
“He just bowed. I think I’m pregnant.”
Zephyr, unaware of the chaos he caused, was focused on balancing a tray of enchanted cider glasses.
“Just three hours. Then back to mopping.”
Among the Girls…
Selena narrowed her eyes.
“There’s a statistical anomaly present. That butler… walks like Zephyr.”
Arwen’s drink trembled.
“I’m going to pass out.”
Drakynia was frozen in place.
“Why is he in a tux? Who gave him permission to look like that?”
Rosalia put a hand to her heart.
“...This must be another divine test. Stay strong, Lady Rosalia…”
The Dance Begins
.
And of course, fate had other plans.
The host prince tripped. The magical chandelier cracked.
A scream echoed. Lightning sparked.
And Zephyr, reacting purely on instinct, leapt 30 feet—
caught the chandelier mid-fall
, spun it in mid-air like a pizza, and gently set it down.
The crowd? Dead silent.
Then someone whispered:
“...He’s the Phantom of the Ballroom.”
The Aftermath
The cloaked headmaster emerged from the shadows with glowing eyes.
“Who is that butler?!”
Zephyr bows silently and vanishes into the servant hallway.
The legend grows.
Bonus Scene: Girl Reactions (Later That Night)
Selena: “He moved faster than light. That’s... chronomagic. I need a hair sample.”
Arwen: (blushing furiously) “I don’t even like dancing, but... maybe I’d let him lead.”
Drakynia: “If he dipped me like that on the dance floor, I’d literally combust.”
Rosalia: sketching a wedding dress “How do you spell ‘Lady Zephyrella’...?”
End of Chapter 7