The shuttle slowly drew closer to the Capital Star.
Through the wide front windows, the planet could be seen—suspended in space like a polished jewel. The dream destination many yearned for.
It was beautiful.
Unfortunately right now, Milas had no mental space left to appreciate any of that.
His gaze drifted only briefly toward the glass before returning to the floor, fingers interlaced tightly on his lap. Anyone looking at him might assume he was simply listening politely.
In reality, his thoughts were sprinting ahead at an alarming speed.
There was a reason people from the lower districts didn't travel between planets.
Two, actually.
The first was money.
Interstellar permits, transit fees—those alone filtered out most of the population before paperwork and laws even entered the picture.
The second was documentation.
Middle district citizens could still manage, money-wise, as long as they saved long enough. Blood tests were inconvenient but nothing out of the ordinary.
Bottom district residents were a different matter.
They weren't meant to leave their home planets at all.
When scanners flagged alien heritage paired with forged travel permits—as no government would ever issue them legally—nobody asked questions. Criminal levels ticked upward automatically. At least one level. Sometimes more if the officer was having a bad day.
Milas kept his expression smooth.
The kind of face that suggested mild curiosity rather than the mental rehearsal of multiple escape routes.
His own criminal level had stopped being something he could control the moment it hit level three.
That part wasn't important.
What concerned him was the noise.
The moment systems flagged an anomaly in blood tests, sirens started blaring through the port. Drones dropped from ceiling panels like metal insects. Barriers sealed exits before anyone had time to run.
He had seen it happen once.
A long time ago.
The memory surfaced uninvited—the way conversations had fractured into shouting, how security guards had held down the frail body, how her hand had stretched toward him, how her scream had cut off halfway through—
Milas exhaled slowly through his nose.
That was in the past.
Thinking about it wouldn't help.
Better to focus on the future.
Which, admittedly, was shaping up to be just as unpleasant.
Though he knew escaping from a capital airport was impossible for him, Milas was never someone to simply give up on his life. And until now, he was still kicking.
His gaze flickered back to the planet outside, which was approaching at an alarming rate as they descended into a controlled approach.
He could already imagine the headlines.
DUKE REYES CAUGHT TRANSPORTING ILLEGAL PASSENGER
ENGAGEMENT REVEALS SECURITY BREACH
NOBLE HOUSE UNDER INVESTIGATION
…Creative.
The nobles would eat it right up, and the Duke could say goodbye to his imperial ambitions.
Milas was so absorbed in drafting his own downfall that he didn't immediately notice Finnian watching him.
Although Milas was good at hiding his true feelings, subtle traces still leaked through—
The tightly clasped hands.
The faint furrow of his brows when lost in thought.
It looked… oddly endearing.
Finnian cut off that line of thinking immediately.
He understood that the situation must be overwhelming for someone from the lower districts. And now Milas had been thrown straight into the heart of noble society—a place that devoured people from the inside.
The least he could do was ensure that, legally, Milas was safe.
Finnian's gaze drifted from Milas's hands to his face.
"As my fiancé," he said carefully, "you will not need to undergo standard arrival screening."
Milas's smile didn't change, as though the lack of testing had no effect on him at all.
He was a good actor. Fitting for high society.
"Port Alpha is restricted to noble houses. Our clearance was submitted when we left the Count's residence."
Milas hummed.
Seemed like he was safe… for now.
"I see."
"You don't need to worry."
Milas nodded slowly.
He leaned back against the seat, loosening shoulders he hadn't even realized were tense.
Beside the navigation console, Luca stood with perfect posture. His eyes flicked toward Milas once before returning to his light screen.
The look dripped with meaning.
"Well," Milas said after a moment, trying to break the silence, "that's one of the perks of marrying into money."
Finnian nodded after what seemed like careful consideration.
"Yes," he replied seriously. "That is accurate."
Milas snorted.
The man was unintentionally funny.
His gaze drifted back toward the planet.
By now, it was possible to make out the tall buildings of the city. Beyond them, countless shuttles approached the atmosphere like swarms of ants.
"So… once we arrive, do I simply follow obediently, or is there a specific manner I'm supposed to adopt?"
Milas's eyes sparkled.
"For example, I could act like an arrogant young noble, or a shy innocent youth. Which do you prefer?"
Luca turned toward him immediately, mouth already opening to deliver what was clearly a prepared lecture.
But Finnian spoke first.
"Just be yourself."
Milas paused.
So did Luca.
Finnian continued, entirely serious, gaze fixed on the approaching port.
"People notice inconsistencies quickly. It is easier to act naturally than to maintain a fabrication."
Milas studied the side of his face for a moment before glancing at Luca.
Luca closed his mouth with visible restraint and exhaled through his nose, looking away.
What a loyal servant.
Finnian was a good person. He simply had one fatal flaw—he was too trusting.
Luca knew that Finnian truly believed honesty would eventually make people see past rumors and reputations. That they would recognize a person's intentions.
So the words hadn't been meant for Milas alone.
They were meant for himself as well.
He hoped—truly—that the citizens would one day stop judging his lord based solely on whispers.
Luca knew the kindness beneath Finnian's cold exterior.
But he also knew the world rarely rewarded that kind of hope.
He feared the day his lord would lose the contest.
But that was for later.
For now, his priority was making sure Finnian did not destroy his own standing by smuggling a lower-district citizen into the Capital Star.
He turned toward Milas, who was slouching once more in his seat.
"Remain close to Duke Finnian," Luca said coolly, "and refrain from unnecessary commentary."
His gaze sharpened.
"From now on, there will be eyes and ears everywhere."
And Milas, who had survived his whole live by never being noticed, suddenly found himself in the center spot of attention.