Invitation Delivered
The silver envelope arrived at dawn, placed on a black velvet tray by a servant too nervous to make eye contact.
"A gathering for noble heirs and prodigies," it read. "Private attendance only."
Of course it was.
The wax seal was familiar: House Verdane. Old money, older arrogance. The kind of people who monogram their handkerchiefs and gossip like it's a blood sport.
Naturally, I accepted.
Arrival, With Flair
The Verdane estate was a monument to tasteless excess. Marble fountains shaped like dragons. Carpets that screamed wealth in fourteen different textures. The main ballroom shimmered with enough gold to make a king blush.
I stepped in, dressed like a scandal in progress: midnight silk, Silkblood Sash knotted just loose enough to draw the eye, and a smirk that could curdle cream.
[Passive: Subtle Presence — Active] [Villain Aura: Confidence +22%, Envy +30%, Threat Level: Decorative]
"Theo Duskblood?"
A voice like syrupy surprise. I turned.
Lord Kelric Verdane's heir. Blond. Too tall. Eyes like someone who'd never been told no.
"Ah, yes," I said, sipping from a glass I hadn't been offered. "Theo Duskblood. Still prettier than you remembered."
His smile twitched.
"Didn't expect to see you here."
"And yet here I am. Breathing the same air. I imagine it's quite the adjustment."
Snickers nearby. Nobles circled like sharks with too many titles and not enough brain cells.
I recognized most of them from the Academy: sons of Dukes, daughters of wealthy trading houses, all marinated in ego and expectation.
The best part?
They reminded me of every arrogant young master I'd read about in trash-tier web novels before reincarnation.
Overconfident.
Underachieving.
Ripe for collapse.
And now, I was one of them.
Well. Almost.
I sipped again. I'm playing the part. But the script? That's mine now.
Social Combat 101
"So," sneered another heir—Neron Valcier, House of Steelwrights. "I hear you tripped Raelar in a duel. On purpose."
"No," I replied innocently. "I merely introduced him to the floor. It was a very intimate reunion."
Laughter. A few chuckles too sharp to be friendly.
Someone whispered, "He was a commoner, right?"
"Exactly," I drawled. "Talented weeds must be trimmed before they reach the sunlight."
Kelric stiffened. "You sound like you're scared of commoners rising."
"Not scared. Just pragmatic. Gardeners know this: when one weed thrives, others follow. Soon you've got a field, not a flowerbed."
Another pause.
Another round of laughter, tinged now with a hint of discomfort.
Perfect.
Let them laugh. Let them squirm.
Let them watch.
A Familiar Chill
A flicker of pale blue caught my eye.
Elaris.
Air and Ice affinity. Graceful as frost on silk. The kind of girl who spoke in wind and silence.
She drifted near, pausing beside the wine.
"You're enjoying yourself," she said, eyes never quite meeting mine.
"Of course," I said. "It's like a petting zoo. But the animals have titles."
A faint smile. She didn't linger.
Good. I wasn't ready for her. Not yet.
Her kind of sharpness needed slow, calculated edges.
Still—she looked back once.
Interesting.
Gossip, Delicious and Dangerous
I leaned casually against a marble pillar, letting the wind of scandal drift my way.
"...and they say she's transferring here. From
Zorathia"
"The princess? The one who killed a wyvern alone?"
"That's the one. Gorgeous. Brilliant. Dangerous."
"Do we know when she arrives?"
"No date confirmed. House Solmere keeps things quiet. But the Academy's making room. Special accommodation."
A foreign princess.
Deadly. Mysterious. Naturally gifted.
Lovely, I thought. Another future protagonist. Just what I needed. I suppose I'll have to break her too.
System Prompt: [Legend Tier Rumor Acquired: Foreign Princess Arrival ] [Tracking Enabled]
'It seems someone interesting will be joining the party soon.'
Reflection and Wine
Later, in the quiet of the garden balcony, I swirled a stolen glass of crimson.
These nobles thought they were safe because they knew the rules.
They had no idea I was rewriting the game.
I watched their reflections ripple in the glass.
Kelric. Neron. Whispering heirs and empty-headed heiresses.
You act like I don't belong, I thought. But I've read your stories. I've seen your deaths. I know how you fall.
And this time, the villain doesn't die in episode twelve.
He drinks your wine.
Takes your spotlight.
And smiles while doing it.