The ambient clinking of crystal flutes and low, polite laughter of the early-arriving nobility felt muted beneath the quiet storm Barn and Rosalina had brought into the Grand Ballroom.
There were still a few lingering nobles scattered near the foot of the terrace stairs who continued to exchange hushed words, keeping their voices low so as not to draw unwanted attention, yet desperately trying to parse the mystery of the man standing beside House Artecus’s adopted daughter.
While minor barons, wealthy merchants, and junior diplomats continued to steal subtle glances from behind lace fans and gold-rimmed monocles, Rosalina led Barn toward a polished marble terrace overlooking the main floor as the official start of the gala drew near.
The vantage point offered a commanding view of both the grand entrance gates below and the velvet-draped royal dais above.
A passing waiter clad in a crisp white uniform approached, offering a silver tray lined with sparkling wine.
Barn took two flutes, handing one to Rosalina with a smooth, effortless motion.
”You’re enjoying this,” Barn remarked, his voice a quiet rumble as he took a subtle sip.
”Immensely,” Rosalina replied in a low tone, her brown eyes bright with cold satisfaction as she watched several noble matriarchs hastily whispering among themselves across the room.
“In high society, the rumor mill is faster than any messenger bird.
Within twenty minutes, every noble house currently sipping wine in this hall will have sent word to their patriarchs outside about your presence.
However, as you have not demonstrated real, destructive power yet, they will maintain a cautious distance between you and themselves.”
”Let them send their messages; let them have their doubts,” Barn said, leaning back against the polished marble balustrade.
“It gives them something to think about before they try anything foolish.”
While Barn and Rosalina held the room in silent fascination, the grand crystal gates at the far end of the foyer swung open once more.
The lead herald cleared his throat, his voice ringing with formal grandeur across the marble archways:
”Announcing Lord Zanac of House Vane!
Accompanied by…
Lady Sylphia and guest!”
A wave of subtle murmurs rippled through the hall.
Zanac stepped through the threshold, wearing an embroidered crimson-and-gold doublet tailored to perfection.
His golden-blond hair gleamed beneath the mana chandeliers, and he carried himself with the practiced, overbearing arrogance of a highborn heir.
Standing gracefully at his right side was Lady Sylphia—the revered heroine of the realm—clad in a shimmering pastel-blue gown that radiated a soft, pure light.
But it was the third figure walking closely behind them that caused several perceptive nobles to freeze.
She was a young, quiet girl wearing a modest yet elegant white dress.
Her posture was slightly hesitant, unaccustomed to the glittering opulence of the Capital, but her physical features were undeniable—vibrant green hair, striking hazel eyes, and a natural, unrefined mana aura that hummed with a dual elemental resonance.
It was Lyra—the lost biological daughter of House Artecus, whom Zanac had secretly scouted through Sylphia.
Zanac’s dark eyes swept across the ballroom, instantly searching for Rosalina.
He expected to find her standing in some quiet corner, looking displaced or anxious.
Instead, his eyes locked onto the central balcony, where Rosalina stood proudly beside Barn—her new High-Rank aura humming in subtle, undeniable harmony with nature, looking every bit like a sovereign lady who owned the entire hall.
Zanac’s jaw clenched so tightly a muscle twitched in his cheek.
’Look at her…
acting as if she rules the Capital!’ Zanac thought, a surge of burning jealousy and bitter rage twisting his gut.
‘She doesn’t even know her replacement is standing right behind me.
Enjoy your pride while you can, Rosalina.
By the end of the night, when I present Lyra to House Artecus and Crown Prince Wilhem, you will have nothing left!’
He turned slightly toward the quiet girl behind him, offering her a practiced, charming smile. Follow the newest chapters on g.com.
“Do not be nervous, Lady Lyra.
Tonight, your true heritage will be recognized by the entire kingdom.”
Lyra offered a small, anxious nod, her hands clutching her silk skirt, entirely unaware that she was being used as a pawn in Zanac’s desperate scheme.
High on the terrace, Barn’s dark eyes casually drifted toward the main entrance.
The moment Zanac, Sylphia, and the quiet green-haired girl stepped into the hall, a subtle flicker of recognition passed through his mind.
He was a little shocked to see the lost daughter brought onto the stage this early, but he knew that narrative trajectories could change; fate in this world was not absolute, nor was it fixed in stone.
’So that’s Zanac Vane…
and the heroine, Sylphia,’ Barn thought dryly, analyzing their power levels in an instant.
‘And the girl behind them must be the lost biological daughter.’
Barn turned his gaze toward Rosalina to gauge her reaction, but Rosalina’s eyes were fixed on Zanac with a look of cool, unbothered disdain.
She hadn’t recognized Lyra’s lineage yet—assuming her to be merely another low-ranking companion Zanac brought along to irritate her—but she could feel the pathetic, posturing malice radiating off her fiancé from across the room.
’Barn,’ the quiet, echoing voice resonated deep within Barn’s spiritual core.
’What is it?’ Barn replied mentally.
’The young man with golden hair carries an active aura of hostility towards you and the female beside you.
Furthermore, the spiritual matrix of the quiet girl in white shares an identical ancestral resonance with the female at your side.’
’I know,’ Barn thought, a cold, dangerous resolve settling over his soul like frost.
‘Zanac thinks he’s played a masterstroke by bringing the real daughter here early.
He wants to trigger the original plot point where Rosalina gets stripped of her title and thrown to the wolves.’
Barn took a slow, relaxed sip of his wine, his shadow-black coat subtly shifting to absorb the flickering light of the chandeliers.
’Let him play his little game,’ Barn concluded mentally, a faint, terrifying smirk touching his lips.
‘He has no idea that the girl standing beside me isn’t a helpless placeholder anymore…
and I’m not here to let his script play out.’
”Rosalina, don’t worry,” Barn said smoothly, his tone light yet pointed as he casually insulted her betrothed.
“You are a High Mage now.
No noble family in their right mind would ever throw away a High Mage, if they truly claim to be nobles.”
Barn’s simple words not only put Rosalina at complete ease, but caused a soft, genuine giggle to escape her lips.
”I know,” Rosalina murmured, taking a slow sip from her flute.
“Zanac was always an emotional fool—someone who constantly makes terrible decisions when blinded by pride.
That is precisely why Lord Vane never named him the primary heir, despite him being the eldest son.
But now, by trying to orchestrate this little farce, he has truly crossed a line against himself.”
Listening to her sharp, pragmatic assessment, Barn felt amused, a warm sense of admiration settling in his chest.
‘This is the Rosalina I knew and like,’ he thought.
”I don’t fear losing House Artecus,” she added as a simple matter of fact, though a subtle thread of mockery laced her tone.
However, House Artecus will never let me go—not when I carry the standing of a High Mage combined with flawless noble etiquette and political intellect.”
She spoke freely, assuming no one was within earshot in their secluded corner of the terrace.
Barn, however, sensed the faint, near-imperceptible presence of expert scouts hiding in the high architectural shadows nearby.
They concealed their mana so flawlessly that even Barn’s current senses couldn’t pinpoint their exact identity, but he knew they were recording every word.
Down on the main floor, Zanac took center stage near the central fountain.
Eager to turn all eyes toward himself and away from Barn, he clapped his hands, raising his voice so it echoed across the surrounding circles of mid-tier aristocrats.
”Lords and Ladies of the Capital!” Zanac announced, his expression brimming with arrogant triumph as he pulled Lyra forward by the wrist.
“Allow me to introduce a special guest brought forth by Lady Sylphia!
This is Lady Lyra—a gifted dual-element caster whose true lineage will soon rewrite the balance of one of our kingdom’s founding houses!”
A sudden, sharp wave of whispering erupted among the surrounding lords and ladies.
”Dual-element?
And look at her hair…
could she be related to House Artecus?”
”Is Lord Zanac presenting a secret biological heir before the Duke himself has arrived?”
”Look at Lady Rosalina up on the balcony…
she doesn’t even look disturbed!
What is happening tonight?”
Zanac soaked in the confusion and murmurs, smirking upward toward the terrace, waiting for Rosalina’s composure to shatter.
But before he could savor the moment any further, the heavy silver trumpets at the high royal gates sounded a deafening, majestic chord that silenced the entire hall in an instant.
The massive double doors lined with gold leaf swung wide open.
The Grand Royal Heralds slammed their silver staffs against the marble floor thrice, their voices echoing in perfect unison across the cavernous ballroom:
”His Royal Highness, Crown Prince Wilhem royal lineage of the Kingdom!
Accompanied by his betrothed…
Lady Nyxara Nightbane!”
The entire room bowed in synchronized, rigid deference.
Through the golden gates stepped Crown Prince Wilhem, clad in blinding white Dress lined with golden lion embroidery, his expression sharp and cold.
Walking beside him, her hand resting lightly on his arm, was Lady Nyxara Nightbane—the primary villainess of the narrative.
She was stunning, dressed in a floor-length dress of deep crimson and obsidian silk, her dark eyes sweeping over the bowed crowd with icy, sharp arrogance.
They look a perfect couple like light and dark, someone who complete other but there is some awkwardness and coldness between them.
He can feel the relationship not good and if he don’t know the script he can think as Nervousness but he knew Prince Wilhem hate Nyxara Nightbane and love Sylphia.
‘Huh, a fool or maybe a boy will choose a girl over a women, he is not a man, just someone who grow with time, Nyxara is a mature Girl, a women who knew the reality and her position’ Barn thought disappointed by the prince who choose a weak looking sweet girl over real Battle hardened Mature Women.
The main function had officially begun, and the primary actors of the stage had finally aligned.