The ballroom was finally empty. Candles flickered along the walls, casting long shadows over the polished floors. Alex lingered near the balcony, watching the last guests depart. Queen Amelia's birthday celebration had been a spectacle of elegance, grandeur, and unspoken rivalries—exactly what he expected.
He couldn't help but recall the brief encounter with the boy, the illegitimate son of Duke Skyrim. That moment had been fleeting but significant. The boy had stood proud, even when Alex had intervened subtly to stop the group of nobles from mocking him. The boy had snapped, insisting that Alex mind his own business, and Alex had replied evenly: "I didn't do it for you. I just don't want to ruin the celebration for everyone else. Don't mind me, I'm just walking through."
Yes, he remembered every detail. That defiance was exactly why he had not pushed further. Loyalty could not be forced, and pride could not be crushed with a single gesture. That boy would have to choose the path himself, and Alex was content to plant a seed for now.
Meanwhile, whispers had begun to ripple through the noble circles. Some admired his dramatic entrance, the genderfluid elegance of his outfit, and the confidence he carried so effortlessly. Others were puzzled. "Is he a boy? Is he a girl?" murmured one young noble, eyes narrowed in envy. Some of the older nobility, however, dismissed it lightly: "Child's play. Let them have their theatrics. We've seen it all before."
Alex observed silently, noting every reaction. He filed away the pieces of gossip like chess pieces on a board, understanding the currents of envy, admiration, and confusion swirling around him. Every glance, every hushed comment would shape the strategies he would employ in the days ahead.
Returning to his room, he removed his shoes and breathed deeply. He felt a faint spark of satisfaction—not from the attention, nor from the awe of the spectators, but from knowing he had acted with subtle justice. He had made the moment count, and the boy had noticed, even if only from the corner of his eyes. That was enough for now.
Tomorrow, Alex decided, would bring new plans. Cultivation awaited, along with the careful construction of his mana pillars. He would rise with the sun, train with diligence, and prepare for the next social encounter. Perhaps a tea gathering or a small game with young nobles—an opportunity to observe, interact, and gently guide. That boy would appear again, and the next encounter might be the one that begins to spark something stronger—trust, curiosity, and perhaps, the first glimmer of friendship.
For now, the room was quiet, and the night embraced him in silence. The whispers of the nobles outside would fade, but the seed he had planted would remain, quietly awaiting its moment to bloom.