The grand hall of Weton Palace shimmered beneath the glow of countless crystal chandeliers, each prism scattering soft rainbows across the polished black-and-gold marble floor. Velvet banners embroidered with the silver sigil of the Zeheir Royal Clan fluttered gently in the warm breeze drifting in from the open balconies. The air carried the scent of blooming nightflowers, mingling with the faint echo of ceremonial horns welcoming arriving nobles.
Tonight was no ordinary gathering —It was the Queen's Birthday Royal Ball.
A night when every influential house of the Western Mystra Realm appeared in shimmering finery.
Inside the hall, nobles moved like waves of color — gowns made of enchanted silk that glowed softly, suits embroidered with mana-infused threads that pulsed with faint light. Their faces carried polite smiles, but their eyes whispered rivalry, ambition, and secrets.
Among them stood the ruling family of Weton — descendants of the Zeheir line, masters of Magnus arts.
Keal — once Kev — stood near a tall arched window framed in silverstone. Moonlight brushed over his black hair, contrasting with the streaks of white that marked his transformation. His heterochromic eyes — one blood-red, one deep violet — reflected everything, observing silently with his black suit and black tie.
His expression was calm, but his gaze was sharp, analytical, dissecting each movement around him.
Across the hall, Zack Zel Zeheir, nephew of Zeckline, danced through the crowd with effortless charisma, his smile bright and his voice lively as he teased noble daughters and dodged jealous suitors. His golden eyes danced with mischief, but beneath that brightness lay a hidden storm Keal sensed but could not fully read.
Keal's shadow-instincts whispered to him:"He's hiding strength. A lot of it."
Magnus energy hummed through the air — a living current. The hall was filled with two major types of users:
Mage Magnus
Elegant spellcasters whose bodies shimmered with arcane runes.
Physical Magnus
Warriors who buffed their bodies with strength, speed, and elemental bursts — living weapons wrapped in flesh.
The Zeheir clan embodied both. Yet none stood above the queen.
A sudden ripple of silence moved across the room as heavy doors opened.
A deep, resonant voice announced:
"Her Majesty, Queen Zellene Zeheir of the Western Mystra Realm of the lawed zone."
Every guest bowed.
Keal lifted his gaze — and his breath quietly caught.
Queen Zellene walked forward like a shadow carved out of moonlight. She was tall, regal, wrapped in a gown of midnight silk woven with floating silver runes that drifted like living stars. Her obsidian-black hair cascaded down her back, and her eyes — cold, ancient, and ocean-deep — swept over the hall with quiet authority.
Her face was emotionless, yet every breath in the room seemed to bend to her presence.
Even the chandeliers dimmed for her.
Keal's shadow instincts flared violently in warning, as if recognizing a predator far above him in the food chain.
But for a brief heartbeat, her gaze brushed over him —and something unreadable flickered in her eyes.
Curiosity?Recognition?Suspicion?
He couldn't tell.
Across the hall, the First Prince stood stiffly, his icy expression unchanging. He wore a dark cobalt coat laced with runes, but his eyes carried a bitterness — the bitterness of someone haunted by not being chosen by the system.
The Second Prince, in contrast, stood half-hidden behind Zeckline, his gaze uncertain. Fear lived behind his soft expression, but Zeckline's hand rested gently on his back — a silent reassurance.
Keal noticed.He noticed everything.
The string orchestra shifted into a soft, ancient melody — a song of sorrow and triumph. Lights dimmed, and golden magic lights drifted through the air like floating petals.
Keal stood beside a silver fountain carved in the shape of a dragon. The water shimmered with faint mana, reflecting the glowing gowns around him.
He remained stoic, even while nobles laughed with sickly-sweet voices soaked in lies.
Then—
"Too stiff," Zack whispered behind him. "If you stand any straighter, you'll snap in half."
Keal didn't even blink. "I'm not here to dance."
Zack grinned, swirling wine."Of course not. Our mysterious, brooding butler has no time for fun. Try to look less like you're planning a coup."
Keal opened his mouth to respond, but—
The announcement thundered again:
"The House of Liam has arrived."
A noblewoman and Duke Liam stepped inside.Faces shifted across the hall — some shocked, some curious, some disapproving.
Zehron, the First Prince, visibly stiffened — the tiniest softening of his icy features. Keal caught the microexpression:
Interest.
"So even ice remembers fire," Keal thought.
As the ball continued, Keal's senses sharpened.Something was wrong.
A young maid stood too close to the royal pillar.
"That one reeks of blood," he muttered.
A Koran-breed assassin.
"Wonderful," Keal whispered. "How did they track me here…?"
His eyes glowed faintly. Instinct took over.
Zack, meanwhile, had dragged Keal into dances with noble daughters, trying to be helpful but only making Keal more irritated.
"I need fresh air," Keal said, slipping out into the garden.
Moonlight spilled onto the flowers, creating long shadows.
"You're not as invisible as you think, Keal…or should I say Kev."
A woman emerged from the shadows — draped in black and silver, her dark hair tied back, her eyes sharp and predatory. Her expression didn't belong to a servant. Too composed. Too confident.
A blade glinted in her hand, catching the moonlight like ice.
She lunged — fast, precise.
But before the strike landed—her arm froze mid-air.
The air turned deadly still.
A presence stepped behind her.
A cold aura rolled across the hall like a collapsing wave.
Her face remained calm, but power radiated from her like a storm held barely in check. With a small gesture, she twisted the assassin's mind — the woman's silent scream distorted the air—
Then the assassin dissolved into dark ink and vanished.
Keal stood frozen, stunned.
The queen's eyes slid toward him, colder than winter.
"Queen… Zellene Zeheir," he breathed, shock breaking through his stoic mask.