The royal Prince and his two sister stepped up beside their parents on the balcony.
The three of them immediately sensed the tension in the air and followed their parents' gaze toward the crowd below. When the younger one saw what they were looking at, she froze.
That was him.
The man she had asked Harrison to invite.
But she hadn't expected the Old Man to be there too.
Seeing Ron and the Old Man laughing together left her speechless. Even her older sister's calm expression wavered and bought a surprised expression on her Brother's face.
"Father, who is he?" the elder daughter asked quietly. The Prince just stared at Ron and Old man.
"I don't know for certain," the King replied. "But I'd bet he's the same one who saved your sister."
The elder daughter frowned. "He doesn't look it. The man who saved her burned entire armies in the blink of an eye."
"Even if he isn't the one who saved my sister. But something tells me he is different. Mysterious is the correct word to describe both of them." The Prince says
The Queen leaned forward slightly, curiosity gleaming in her eyes. "Why don't we talk to them?"
The King nodded. "A good idea. I want to see what kind of man could make that old one laugh."
"The King and Queen are coming down," someone whispered.
All eyes turned toward the grand staircase.
"You better go if you don't want to get caught," the Old Man murmured to Ron with a small grin. Ron ignored him.
The King and Queen appeared first, regal and composed, followed by their son and two daughters. The light from the chandeliers reflected off their jeweled crowns, scattering faint glimmers across the marble floor. Conversations died instantly; even music stopped mid-note.
Ron straightened in surprise, while the Old Man merely smiled, still holding his cup of wine as if none of this mattered.
"Your Majesty," the Old Man greeted with a small bow. "It's been a long time."
The King's eyes widened for a moment before he quickly hid his surprise. "Indeed. I never thought you would attend one of my gatherings."
The Queen stepped closer, her voice gentle but curious. "May we know who your companion is?"
The Old Man turned toward Ron, amusement dancing in his eyes. "This one?" He patted Ron's shoulder. "A troublesome young man who doesn't know when to give up."
Ron smiled (a forceful smile).
The King and Queen exchanged a brief glance—half amused, half intrigued. The Prince and two princesses couldn't take their eyes off old man and Ron, while the elder sister studied him carefully, as if trying to see through him.
"Then," the King said finally, "why don't we continue this conversation at our table? It's not every day I witness the legend himself laughing—and in such company."
The crowd murmured with curiosity as the royal family, Ron, and the Old Man moved toward the long table at the center of the hall. The atmosphere buzzed with whispers:
> "The Old Man is actually here…"
"Who's that stranger with him?"
"Even the King looks curious…"
"Damn you, Old Man. Because of you, I got involved," Ron muttered, rubbing his temple.
"Didn't I tell you to leave?" the Old Man replied casually.
"You said no one knows you," Ron shot back.
The Old Man smirked. "Hahaha, I was just kidding."
Ron sighed, exasperated. "You old geezer, You'll be the death of me."
They kept bickering lightly as they climbed the stairs to the second floor. The moment they entered the royal dining hall, the air changed—calm, regal, and heavy with unspoken tension.
The chamber was vast and golden. A long table gleamed under crystal chandeliers, laden with every kind of dish imaginable. Aromas of spices and roasted meats mingled with the faint perfume of lilies. Ron paused, glancing around—everything here screamed luxury, yet it all felt strangely distant.
The King sat at the head of the table, the Queen beside him. The Prince and two princesses took their seats gracefully. The Old Man sat down next, and Ron was guided to a chair across from him, beside the Prince.
"Please, eat to your heart's content," the King said warmly.
"Thank you, Your Majesty," the Old Man replied, lifting his glass.
Dinner began in polite silence. The Old Man and the King chatted about old days and forgotten wars, while Ron quietly picked at his plate. He didn't belong here—and he knew it.
Then, breaking the calm, the elder princess—around twenty—leaned forward.
"Sir Ron, where were you last week?"
Her question froze the air. Every gaze turned toward him.
"He was with me," the Old Man said smoothly before Ron could answer.
"But… he saved us," the younger princess—eighteen, bright-eyed—protested softly.
"That's true," the Old Man said, smiling, "but I'm not lying either."
The Prince, the eldest at twenty-five, rested his elbows on the table. "Sir, could you explain?"
The Old Man folded his hands. "We got lost. He was unconscious when I noticed him from a far, he maybe woke up at the sound of a carriage. After the fight, he passed out again. Later, I came and told the young princess he was with me. She didn't recognize me then—nor now."
The younger princess blinked. "That was you, sir? My apologies."
The Queen's eyes softened. "So it's true… you saved my daughter."
Ron hesitated. "To be honest, I don't even know why I did it. My head was aching, and I just… moved. Instinct, maybe."
"No need to be modest," the King said, standing. "We thank you from the bottom of our hearts."
The Queen and the rest of the family rose with him, bowing slightly in gratitude.
"There's no need to thank me," Ron said quietly.
"Please, tell us if there's anything you want," the King offered.
"Anything?" Ron asked, looking up.