Dio stood silently, observing the hulking mass that had once been his brother, now a twisted monstrosity. The beast's eyes burned with a feral intensity, and Dio felt the air thicken with a heavy, unsettling energy. For a moment, time seemed to pause, the world around him fading into a hushed stillness as he focused on the creature's movements.
Without warning, the beast's massive form tensed, muscles rippling under its grotesque skin. Dio's gaze narrowed, taking in the scene. But just as quickly, it relaxed, as if mocking the anticipation in the air.
Then, in a heartbeat, it lunged—not with the slow deliberation of a predator but with an explosive speed that shattered the stillness. One moment, the creature was crouched, and the next, it was a blur of motion, claws extended, millimeters away from Dio's throat.
Jatom Rodriguez was not happy. As he moved through the opulent halls of noble gatherings like a ghost, a lingering shadow among the vibrant colors and laughter of the elite. Once a member of their ranks, he was now an outcast, forced to wear a facade of polite smiles that masked the disdain he felt from those around him. Their eyes, filled with contempt, cut deeper than any blade. He could sense their silent judgments, whispers cloaked in civility, as they watched him like vultures circling a wounded animal. The charade of cordiality was sickening—each smile a thinly veiled insult, each handshake a subtle reminder of his fall from grace. Direct insults would be too crude, too barbaric for those who fancied themselves above such behavior; after all, that was the way of the peasants, and nobles prided themselves on their refinement. Yet, their disdain was palpable, like a noxious fog that clung to him, suffocating in its presence.
He'd rather not deal with these people, even after more than thirty years since his fall. the insufferable smiles, the endless bootlicking, the backstabbing, the plotting—it all left a bitter taste in his mouth, he could go on and on, listing the grievances that came with mingling among the ruling class, yet here he was again, clambering up the ladder he had once vowed to abandon. He had told himself that it wasn't worth the trouble, that the disadvantages outweighed the benefits. But deep down, he knew that was rubbish. He knew it, his wife knew it, even his children understood it. A man could delude himself as much as he liked, but denial would not alter the reality he faced daily.
And that reality was simple: Power. That was what he craved, what drove him to endure the sneers and whispers. To stand at the top again, to control a person's entire future with just a word. He yearned for people to look at him and see not just another face in the crowd but a figure deserving of respect. His eyes flicked toward his wife, Celine, who looked as beautiful as always, her laughter ringing like sweet music in the air. Yet, there she was, mingling and rubbing shoulders with another man who wasn't her husband. Wasn't this a slap in the face? His heart raced with a fiery anger that he struggled to tame, gritting his teeth to suppress the tumultuous emotions threatening to spill over. If only he had power, she wouldn't dare disrespect him like this. If only he had power, she wouldn't have borne a child for another man, leaving him to shoulder that burden.
As he navigated the crowd, he overheard snippets of conversation, the words dripping with thinly veiled mockery. "Can you believe Jatom still tries to ingratiate himself with us? A fallen noble, clinging to scraps?" one noblewoman said, her laughter bright and sharp like glass. Another nobleman chimed in, "Let him try; his desperation is amusing at least." Each word felt like a dagger, twisting deeper into his pride, fueling the fire of resentment within him.
Eventually, he reached a small group where Kael Valerius stood, his youthful energy radiating confidence. Kael, with his water manipulation abilities and ambition, represented everything Jatom craved: success, power, and respect. He approached, his heart pounding with a mixture of hope and trepidation. "Mr valerius, I was hoping to speak with you."
Kael turned, his expression shifting from surprise to amusement. "Jatom Rodriguez, the fallen noble. What do I owe the pleasure of catching your eye?" His tone was laced with mockery, a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth.
"I— I wanted to discuss a potential partnership," Jatom said, his voice barely above a whisper, the desperation creeping in. "Valerius Enterprises has the resources and influence I lack. I can help bring in new connections and opportunities for your company—"
Kael interrupted, his laughter ringing out, loud and mocking. "What could you possibly offer that would make you a valuable partner? You've lost everything. Your name means nothing in this circle. Why would I consider working with someone like you?"
Jatom felt the heat rise to his cheeks, his heart racing. "I may not have the status I once did, but I know how to navigate these waters. I have contacts, experience, and insights into the old guard that could benefit you." He leaned closer, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "I can help you secure the right alliances. Together, we could elevate both our standings."
Kael arched an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed. "And why should I risk my reputation for you? You're a relic of the past, Jatom. What's in it for me?" His arrogance was suffocating, yet Jatom could sense a sliver of opportunity if he played his cards right.
"I'm not asking for charity," Jatom replied, his voice steadying despite the turmoil inside. "I'm offering you a chance to solidify your legacy. Help me help you. I know I can bring something valuable to the table. Just give me a chance to prove it."
Kael's smirk faltered for a moment as he considered Jatom's words, the tension palpable in the air. Jatom knew this was his only shot, his chance to reclaim some semblance of power in a world that had left him behind." I would think on you offer Mr Rodriguez, in the main time let me enjoy the party, which is lovely by the way" kael said waving his hands at jatom who knew that he was being dismissed and any argument to further pursuad him might just work against him instead. So he excused himself with a slight bow. Jatom's mind wandered to his children—especially James, who was his only hope for a brighter future. He had to find a way to navigate this treacherous social landscape and establish connections that could ultimately benefit his family. If he could integrate himself into the Valerius network, perhaps he could secure a place for James in the upper districts, a future where his son could thrive away from the stigma of their family's past.
With renewed determination, Jatom pushed aside his doubts and focused on the conversation, eager to explore every opportunity that might arise from his dealings with the nobles present.