The night of the gala arrived with the weight of storm clouds. The mansion glowed against the countryside darkness, every window lit, every chandelier blazing.
Cars curved up the drive in a procession of polished steel and old money. The gravel crunched beneath tyres, valet attendants sweeping doors open with rehearsed grace.
Cass watched from the top of the staircase. His suit was black, sharp lines cutting his frame, a silk tie the shade of midnight.
The Rolex on his wrist gleamed, understated yet deliberate. He didn't move. He let the house breathe with anticipation.
Below, the first guests stepped inside. Malcolm Harrington led them, his heavy frame moving with the assurance of someone used to respect.
His eyes swept the marble floors, the white roses climbing crystal vases, the quartet playing soft notes near the balcony. A grunt escaped him, not disapproval—approval disguised.
"Vale," he said when Cass descended, each step measured.
"Harrington," Cass greeted. Their hands met, firm, brief.
"You've outdone yourself," Harrington said, scanning the room. "I see what you're doing. I like it."
[Reputation +1 (Business Circles)]
Behind Harrington came Lydia Cole, sleek in a dress that whispered money without needing to shout it. She eyed Cass as though still testing him.
"You always seem to deliver," she said coolly. "That's rare."
"I try," Cass replied.
Her lips twitched. She moved into the room, already attracting a small circle of attention.
One by one, names from his list entered. The art dealer, flushed with delight. The councillor, smiling for the cameras. The editor, notebook discreetly in hand. Every guest added weight to the evening, a current Cass controlled without needing to raise his voice.
Elaine and Thomas stood near the entrance, transformed. Elaine's twilight silk gown caught the light, her nervous smile melting as people complimented her.
Thomas looked uncomfortable at first in his tailored suit, but he stood taller with every handshake. For once, no one looked down on them.
Cass caught his mother's gaze across the room. She mouthed a single word—proud—and he inclined his head faintly in reply.
The crowd parted suddenly. Sienna Reed arrived, arm linked with a boy already sweating under the chandeliers.
Her gown glittered, chosen to demand attention, but the card she presented at the door carried only the number Cass had embossed. She stepped inside with a smirk fixed on her lips, scanning the crowd for Cass.
When their eyes met, he didn't smile.
"Cassian," she purred, approaching with her date trailing behind. "I see you couldn't resist having me here."
"You insisted on coming," Cass said calmly. "I allowed it."
Her smirk faltered, though she covered it with a laugh. "Charming as ever."
[Hidden Ledger Update: Sienna Reed. Debt Value +10 (Loss of Composure). Total Debt: 50]
Trent Beaumont followed soon after, arriving in a suit that fit badly, his confidence already shaken by the glances around him. He presented his card stiffly, stepped inside, and froze when he saw Harrington shaking Cass's hand.
"You didn't…" he whispered to himself.
Cass descended another step, gaze pinning him.
"Beaumont," Cass said evenly. "You found the door."
Trent swallowed, forcing a smirk. "Enjoy it while it lasts."
Cass didn't answer. He didn't need to. The silence around them spoke for him.
[Hidden Ledger Update: Trent Beaumont. Debt Value +10 (Social Backfire). Total Debt: 30]
The night rolled forward. Laughter filled the ballroom, glasses clinked, music swelled and softened.
Cass moved through it all like a conductor, each conversation tuned to his tempo. When a guest faltered, he guided them. When someone tried to boast, he shifted attention away with a single line.
At the piano near the balcony, he finally sat. The crowd hushed as his fingers touched ivory. Music spilt out—fluid, commanding, beautiful. Not a performance but a declaration.
Elaine's eyes filled with tears. Thomas blinked hard, jaw tightening as though afraid to show pride. Harrington muttered something to a colleague, both men watching Cass with new respect. Even Lydia Cole leaned closer, her expression softening despite herself.
Rowena stood near the back, arms folded, lips curved. She had expected brilliance, but not this.
Sienna, though, stood rigid. Her date whispered something, but she didn't hear. Her nails dug into her clutch. She had thought Cass would always remain beneath her. Now the music itself told her otherwise.
[Charm +2]
[Charisma Aura amplified within 10m]
The final note faded. Silence held for a heartbeat, then applause thundered through the hall. Cass stood slowly, bowed once, and returned to his glass of wine without another word.
Later in the evening, the magazine's editor approached. "Mr Vale, the photographs will be discreet, as agreed. But I must ask—what exactly should I tell my readers?"
Cass's smile was faint. "Tell them what you saw. And tell them you were the first to see it."
[Reputation +1 (Media Circles)]
The editor left, scribbling furiously.
Near midnight, as the gala swelled toward its peak, Cass stood on the staircase again. His glass caught the light, his gaze sweeping the crowd.
Every guest turned toward him instinctively, the music softening as though even the quartet knew where attention belonged.
"My friends," Cass said, voice calm but carrying through the hall. "You came tonight, wondering who I was. You'll leave knowing. I am Cassian Vale. And this house, this night, is only the beginning."
Applause erupted, some polite, some genuine. Harrington raised his glass. Lydia Cole inclined her head. Elaine and Thomas stood at the edge, their pride unhidden.
Sienna forced a smile that trembled. Trent clapped stiffly, sweat at his temples. The trap had closed, and they hadn't even realised until now.
[Quest Complete: Hosting Gala]
[Reward: +£20,000]
[Reputation Boost]
[Unique Title Acquired: Host of Crowns]
Cass lifted his glass slightly, eyes cold even as he smiled.
'Now the city knows my name. Tomorrow, Ill make sure it learns to fear it.'