Citadel City.
The marble dining hall of Kyle Sterling's mansion glowed in the morning light. Chandeliers hung above the long oak table, their glass crystals shimmering faintly. Silver cutlery clinked softly as Kyle sliced through his breakfast with meticulous calm.
The silence broke when the heavy doors opened. A man in a fitted black coat walked in, his polished shoes echoing across the floor. He bowed slightly, stopping at the end of the table.
Kyle didn't look up immediately. He wiped his mouth with the napkin and finally asked, voice low but sharp.
"What is it?"
"Mr. Sterling," the man said, his tone respectful yet rigid, "Princess has confirmed and sent a report."
Kyle placed his fork down with a soft clink and leaned back in his chair. His eyes narrowed.
"A report about what?"
The man stepped closer, lowering his voice as though the walls themselves might be listening.
