I was in my room…
but calling it alone would be a crime punishable by death.
If hell ever decided to create a softer, more elegant branch exclusively for noble children, this would be it.
Mother stood proudly in front of me, her eyes sparkling as if she were admiring a priceless masterpiece. Around me—no, circling me—were six maids. Each of them carried a terrifying level of enthusiasm, the kind usually reserved for battlefield medics and overworked tailors.
I sat on a cushioned stool, small legs dangling helplessly.
Defenseless.
First came the cream.
It cold,
Unreasonably cold.
I flinched.
A maid giggled.
Then something sticky was applied. Then powder. Then another layer of powder that smelled different from the first one. Something floral. Something expensively floral. My face felt like it was being remodeled for a royal exhibition.
My hair suffered next.
Combed.
Brushed.
Pulled.
Released.
Tied.
Untied.
Then styled again.
My scalp screamed silently as my hair was treated like enemy territory in a tactical war. Pins appeared. Disappeared. Returned. One maid argued softly with another about symmetry. A third nodded solemnly, as if this decision would decide the fate of the continent.
I tried to protest.
"Mother—"
A soft cloth dabbed my cheek.
"No sudden movements, Young Master," a maid whispered sweetly, smiling like an assassin.
I closed my mouth.
Another maid adjusted my collar. Someone else polished shoes I wasn't even wearing yet. A faint mist of perfume sprayed into the air, drifting around me like a curse.
"This is torture," I muttered under my breath.
Mother didn't bother to glance back.
She stepped back slowly, hands clasped together, eyes shining with satisfaction as she examined me from head to toe. The room fell silent as if everyone awaited her judgment.
"Oohh… my baby boy," she said, voice melting like warm honey. "He looks so handsome."
I relaxed slightly.
"…Like a doll."
My eyebrows twitched.
"Dolls are not handsome," I said seriously.
The maids gasped.
One of them actually put a hand to her chest.
Mother laughed, covering her mouth gracefully. "Don't be such a meanie. Handsome dolls exist too, you know."
"They shouldn't," I replied with conviction.
She walked closer and gently fixed a stray lock of my hair, her fingers warm and familiar. Her expression softened.
"Today is your birthday, Solaris," she said. "They've all been waiting for you."
I sighed internally.
Right.
Birthday.
This is normal, I told myself. Noble birthdays are big. Busy. Excessive. This is all very normal.
The maids finally stepped back, satisfied with their work. I stood up from the stool and looked down at myself.
A formal noble outfit hugged my small frame—dark fabric with silver embroidery tracing elegant patterns along the sleeves and chest. Light enough for movement, dignified enough to scream important child. A short cape rested perfectly on my shoulders. The shoes were polished to a mirror shine.
And the scent.
I smelled… expensive.
Mother nodded proudly. "Perfect."
Before I could take even one step backward, two particularly handsome maids came forward, positioning themselves next to me with practiced grace.
I realized too late.
Escorted.
I was being escorted.
We walked through the long corridors of the Void household mansion. The marble floors reflected the light of enchanted lamps embedded into the walls. Noble paintings lined the halls—ancestors of the Void family. Swordmasters. War heroes. Men and women with eyes sharp enough to cut steel.
Their painted gazes followed me as I passed.
Please don't stare, I thought. I'm just a normal eight-year-old boy going to his normal birthday party.
The corridors opened wider as we approached the heart of the mansion. The air felt different here—heavier, older. Power lingered in the stones themselves.
Finally, we stopped in front of the grand hall.
Two guards stood tall at the entrance, clad in ceremonial armor. The instant their eyes fell on us, the guards slammed their spears into the ground, each movement mirrored perfectly, as if choreographed.
"Happy birthday, Young Master Solaris!"
I flinched slightly, then nodded politely. "Thank you."
The massive doors opened.
Light flooded my vision.
For a brief moment… I forgot how to breathe.
The grand hall was overwhelming.
Crystal chandeliers hung from the ceiling, each one refracting golden light into countless shimmering fragments. Long tables stretched across the hall, filled with dishes I didn't even recognize—meats glazed in shining sauces, fruits glowing faintly with enchantments, desserts sculpted like works of art.
And in the very center—
A giant cake.
And I meant giant.
It had multiple layers, each decorated with magical frosting that shimmered softly. Tiny illusionary lights floated around it like fireflies, slowly circling as if guarding it.
Then as we made our way in, the voices around us dwindled to whispers.
Laughter softened.
Footsteps slowed.
Eyes turned toward us.
Too many eyes.
Nobles I had never seen before approached with practiced smiles.
"HAPPY BIRTHDAY, SOLARIS VOID!"
"I am Lord Arven of the Eastern Ridge."
"Lady Marquess Heliora."
"Such a fine young master."
I nodded. Bowed. Smiled. Repeated polite greetings like a perfectly programmed doll.
Smile.
Nod.
Thank.
Smile again.
Behind the polite words, whispers flowed freely.
"This household is something else…"
"The king of Eldrathis himself is attending a noble child's birthday party."
"I heard Alistair Void and the king are old friends."
"So the rumors were true…"
I froze internally.
The king?
No. No, calm down.
This is normal, I told myself quickly. High nobles interact with royalty all the time. Yes. Completely normal.
Then—
"Solaris."
My father's voice echoed through the hall.
I looked up.
On the second-floor balcony overlooking the entire hall stood Father—Alistair Void.
Tall. Calm. Commanding.
His presence alone straightened spines and quieted voices. Beside him stood several figures whose mere silhouettes felt… heavy.
"Come here," he said.
Mother smiled and placed a gentle hand on my shoulder. "Let's go."
As we ascended the wide staircase, I felt it.
The atmosphere shifted.
The whispers stopped completely. Every step echoed louder than it should have. I didn't need to look back to know that—
We were being watched.
When we reached the balcony, I understood why.
---
[Solaris still believed this was a celebration.
He did not realize—
he had already stepped onto a stage.]
---