Chapter 14
[Embercrown 17th (8/17), Year 1356 of the Arcane Calendar]
| 9:00 PM |
-
-
[ Valco city, Castle ]
The air in Kyzen's room hung thick with tension, the dim glow of a single lantern casting long shadows that danced across the worn wooden walls.
Four figures huddled around a small table, their breaths shallow, the silence broken only by the faint creak of the floorboards and the soft snores of Leo and Tina sleeping on the bed nearby.
Liam's voice sliced through the stillness, low and menacing."Fold now, or I swear you'll regret it!" he growled, his eyes blazing as he leaned forward, fingers twitching like he was ready to unleash hell.
Chloe's glare could've shattered stone, her knuckles white from gripping the table's edge.
Sarah's cool smirk taunted, daring anyone to blink first.
I, Kyzen, sat back, heart hammering, my gaze locked on the chaos unfolding before me, every nerve on edge.
The weight of the moment stretched time, each second heavy with unspoken stakes—until I slammed my hand down with a triumphant grin.
"Royal flush, suckers!" I crowed, sweeping a pile of glittering coins to my side.
The clatter shattered the quiet, and Tina stirred, her pigtails twitching.
Liam's face went from fury to panic as he grabbed my shoulders, shaking me in a frantic push-and-pull.
In a low voice, "You idiot!" he hissed, tears practically blurring his eyes. "It took so long to get them to sleep—I'll kill you if you wake her up."
He slumped, sobbing inside, while Chloe chucked her cards at my head.
Sarah laughed, muttering, "lucky."
I glanced to the side, my face defeated, as Tina slowly sat upright, rubbing her eyes and murmuring, "Cake…"
Liam's head snapped toward her, his expression pure dread.
Chloe and Sarah exchanged a glance, suddenly scrambling for excuses.
"Oh, yeah, I have to meet up with my friends and classmates," Chloe blurted, already halfway to the door.
Sarah jumped up, clutching her skirt.
"Oh, I just remembered—Mom told me to come! Ugh, it's late, I need to get ready for the ball!"
Before we could blink, they bolted, leaving Liam and me in the dust.
Tina's sleepy demand for "Cake!" grew louder.
I smirked at Liam's despairing face while admitting defeat; even though I won a battle, we lost the war.
Nice teamwork, ladies, I thought, as the room filled with the chaos of a card game victory and a toddler's wrath.
-
-
-
Gazing into the mirror, I saw my reflection in a sleek white suit, a deep black shirt tucked beneath, paired with matching white pants. My hair was pulled back from my forehead now, and I smoothed a stray strand at the back. Anna had done a stellar job with my hair—I finally looked like I belonged at a ball.
Thank the gods my forehead isn't too big, or I'd look utterly ridiculous.
I stretched in the new outfit, a cheerful smile spreading across my face as I struck a few poses in front of the mirror. Thank you, Chloe's mom—you're an incredible aunt, I thought sincerely.
Truth be told, I'd have been royally screwed if I'd worn the clothes I packed. I knew there'd be a party for Chloe's birthday, but my wardrobe couldn't hold a candle to the stunning styles and designs I'd seen people wearing all day.
Diana had reminded me to pack something nice, but I didn't think much of it; therefore, the dress I carelessly chose fell short of the event's standards.
At least I brought a decent pair of shoes, I thought, glancing down at the polished black shoes, gleaming under the room's light.
Honestly, it's unsettling how quickly I'm adapting to this world. Kyzen's knowledge is both a curse and a cheat skill. It's helping me in countless ways, but it confirms I'm no longer the same Oliver. I changed unnaturally fast.
Realising I wasn't the only person in this body, I started calling out, "Cornelius, you there?"
After calling him out a few more times, I gave up.
I grabbed the keys and left the room, closing the door behind me. Before locking it, I double-checked to ensure I hadn't forgotten anything.
Click...
I turned the doorknob once to confirm the door was secure—better safe than sorry.
Tossing the keys in the air a few times, I thought about how I had roughly two weeks before the academic year starts and how I still needed to buy the books for the subjects.
I can just buy them at Bristol City in Zyvaris, where Liam lives, and also at the academy, which is located there.
I headed toward the ballroom, and I slipped the keys into my left pocket. Pulling out the pocket watch, it read: 10:30 pm.
After a few minutes of walking, I reached the ballroom. I could see some people going in while some were enjoying the night sky outside, which they could see from the open hallway, not having a complete wall on one side, letting people see the outside, and talking with each other.
Stepping into the ballroom, I saw a sea of couples and family members already dancing in the center, their movements swirling to the soft hum of strings.
Circular tables were neatly arranged along the back, with an elevated platform behind them, clearly set for the cake-cutting ceremony.
Lena, being the eldest sister, had the chance for a grand coming-of-age birthday like this, but true to her nature, she rejected it, preferring a simple celebration without all the fuss.
Chloe, though she sometimes bristles at playing the stiff noble lady, secretly loves the attention, if I'm being honest.
Liam? He'd 100% refuse—too much spotlight. Sarah might act shy, but deep down, she'd revel in a lavish party. Kyzen—well, he would just respect their choices, regardless of his interest.
Leo's a bit harder to pin down; his lazy streak reminds me of my academy roommate, that guy who gives me chills just thinking about him.
And Tina? Her answer's obvious—no need to guess what she'd want.
I tried to find them in the crowd but gave up and grabbed a glass of fruit juice instead, slumping into an empty chair at a circular table occupied by strangers.
"So, Marcus, what's your take? Should I invest in Animus Marionet's venture now, or hold off for better valuation?" a man at the table asked, his voice low but sharp, cutting through the music.
I glanced at the man named Marcus, who met my gaze with a raised eyebrow, as if sizing me up and telling me to mind my business.
What are they talking about? I wondered, turning my gaze away.
The man's voice carried a warm, unguarded enthusiasm. "Interested, kid?" he asked, leaning forward with a grin that seemed to invite the whole world to share in his excitement.
I blinked, caught off guard. "Forgive me if I'm eavesdropping," I said, offering a polite smile to soften the intrusion.
The man waved a hand dismissively, his eyes bright with an almost childlike openness. "No, no, it's fine! My friend and I run a merchant outfit. Not one of the big players, mind you, but we're carving out our niche, bit by bit."
He chuckled, then paused, smacking his forehead lightly. "Oh, where are my manners? I'm Julien. This here's my brother, Marcus."
Tsk...
Marcus, seated beside him, didn't so much as glance my way. His hand supported his jaw. His gaze was fixed somewhere else.
Julien nudged him, undeterred by the frost in his brother's demeanor. "Come on, Marcus, say hello. No need to be so grim."
Marcus's eyes flicked to Julien, narrow and calculating, before settling on me for the briefest moment. His expression was a closed book, but the tightness in his jaw spoke volumes—he didn't trust me, and he certainly didn't like me being here.
"Let's go, Julien," he said, his voice low and clipped. He tugged at Julien's sleeve, the motion sharp enough to betray his irritation.
I inclined my head slightly. "Kyzen Lunthaler Varae," I said, introducing myself with the practiced calm of someone used to being overlooked. In the hierarchy of the fifteen main families, the Varae were shadowed, like the unpopular player on a team.
Julien's face didn't flicker with recognition, his smile as warm and oblivious as ever. "Kyzen! Nice to meet you! Always good to put a face to a name." His enthusiasm was almost disarming, like a puppy bounding into a room full of strangers.
Marcus, though, froze mid-motion. His grip on Julien's sleeve tightened, and his eyes darted back to me, sharper now, dissecting. He knew who the Lunthalers were. Nobles, I suspected, were not his favorite company.
Julien, oblivious to the undercurrent, rummaged in his pocket and produced a slightly crumpled card. "Here, take this," he said, thrusting it toward me with a grin. "If you ever need anything—goods, contacts, a favor—give us a shout. We're small, but we're scrappy!"
Marcus's hand shot out, halting Julien's arm before the card could fully change hands. "Julien," he said, his tone a warning wrapped in calm. "We're leaving."
Julien blinked, confusion clouding his sunny disposition. "What's the rush? I was just—"
"Now." Marcus's voice was steel, cutting through Julien's protest. He stood, his movements precise, like a man who'd already mapped out the next three steps.
I took the card, my fingers brushing Julien's before Marcus could yank him away entirely. "Thank you," I said, keeping my tone neutral, though I couldn't help but meet Marcus's gaze. His eyes held mine for a split second—cold, assessing, and unmistakably hostile. Not just distrust, then. Something personal.
As the brothers moved toward the door, Julien tossed me a cheerful wave, utterly unaware of the storm brewing in Marcus's silence. I tucked the card into my pocket, watching them go. Julien's openness was a rare spark in a world of guarded motives, but Marcus… Marcus was a puzzle. Calculating, cautious, and carrying a grudge that felt heavier than a simple distaste for nobles.
Glancing at the roughed-up card, the name Ironwood Trade is printed in bold.
A light tap on my shoulder broke my thoughts. I turned, expecting a server or perhaps Julien doubling back, but instead, her—a girl with a sharp glint in her eyes and an air of unshakable confidence. I didn't expect her to talk to me, and what she said afterward was even more unexpected.
"Dance with me," she said, putting her hand in front. It wasn't a request—more a command, laced with the kind of arrogance that made my brow twitch.
Cookie girl. Bold, brash, and used to getting her way. Who even was she?
I leaned back, a faint smile tugging at my lips. "No," I said simply. "Why would you even want to dance with me?"
Her gaze flicked to the right, her head tilting just enough to catch a cluster of onlookers in the dim corners. Their eyes darted away as hers swept over them, like mice scattering from an eagle.
She didn't need to say it—I guess she could tell I was a high noble from my clothes and wanted my position as an excuse to stop people from bothering her. I suppose that's why Marcus wanted to leave even before discovering my name. I wonder why he even came if he hated nobles—maybe he was worried about his brother's innocence?
"So, will you?" she pressed, her tone sharp but tinged with something else—calculation, maybe, or a challenge.
I crossed my arms, meeting her gaze. "Suppose I do. What do I get out of dancing with you?"
For some reason, she was confident just when she was about to speak. I added, "And don't say cookies. That's not going to cut it."
Her lips pursed, and to my surprise, she sat beside me, her brow furrowing like she was actually mulling it over. I stifled a laugh, covering my face with a sigh. Was she seriously considering bribing me with cookies?
The absurdity of it nearly made me sigh—until my eyes caught movement in the distance. A group sat at a far table, their silhouettes sharp against the flickering lantern light. Two faces stood out, familiar in a way that sent my pulse racing.
0.3 seconds: Where have I seen them?
0.45 seconds: Oh, a mother and daughter?
0.7 seconds: Oh, fuck.
My hand shot out, grabbing hers before I could second-guess myself. "Okay, we can dance," I said, voice tight. "Let's go." I didn't give her time to protest, pulling her toward the open floor where a handful of couples swayed to a lute's jaunty tune.
Her startled expression was almost worth the panic clawing at my chest.
Man, my luck is so bad—if that mother-daughter duo finds me and Liam, we're so finished.
I tugged Cookie Girl toward the furthest edge of the dancers, away from prying eyes and the far table where those shadows lurked.
The music swelled, a lively melody from the lute that wove through the tavern's haze like a thread pulling us into motion.
I never thought I'd have to dance here, but I'd learned the basics back on Earth for prom—still, the style in this world was worlds apart, all elegant sweeps and rhythmic precision compared to the casual sway I knew. In the end, though, it boiled down to footwork, adapting on the fly.
As we started, I took the initiative, clasping her hand firmly in mine while placing my other hand on the small of her back, guiding her into the flow.
Our legs moved in sync—mine stepping forward with a deliberate stride, knees slightly bent for balance, while hers mirrored with quick, graceful pivots, her skirts whispering against the floor as we circled in a tight arc.
Hands intertwined, I led with subtle pressure, lifting and turning her arm in a fluid arc overhead for a spin, our fingers brushing like sparks before reconnecting, the rhythm building as our feet shuffled and crossed in intricate patterns, dodging the other pairs, making sure not to bump into them.
Throughout the dance, I kept my gaze focused on the duo from Grandé. I think her name was Angelica? I didn't think she'd be able to recognize me, but Liam would stick out like a sore thumb. I needed to make sure they didn't see him.
The main problem now was this cookie girl. The more I looked, the more I could tell she didn't want to be here. There was something unusual about her, too—her spirituality was leaking continuously, which wasn't normal for anyone. Although it wasn't enough for a person to notice from a distance, right now, being this close, I could sense it.
Also, the emotion of her spirituality was neither joy nor nervousness of dancing; it was anger, and it was a very abnormal level of anger, which just kept on increasing.
Letting the clasped hand spin and back to following the beat of the music with our feet, I spoke out.
"Why are you here?"
Pursing her lips, she spoke out, "I'm here looking for a person."
"Who?"
Contemplating whether to tell me or not, she waited before replying, "Fine, you might even help me find him, probably."
Followed by a few seconds of silence, the next words she said shook me, and with the amount of animosity I felt from her as she spoke the words one by one.
This girl, I started sweating inwardly. What did you do? I questioned the man inwardly, picturing the man, and she spoke out.
"Kyzen Lunthaler from the house of Varae."