Starlight in the Corner

Inside the study.

The baron's voice was stern. "Has that good-for-nothing returned?"

The Steward hurriedly bowed. "My lord, Young Master Cyril has returned. He said the performance prepared for the ball has been fully rehearsed, but... he was worried that the friend who came up with the idea might not attend, so he insisted on inviting that friend as well. He's currently changing clothes in the dressing room."

"A friend?" Baron Ul's expression eased slightly. "From town?"

"Yes, the one from the Atmesia family..."

The baron's brows knitted tightly together. He waved a hand as though brushing away something unpleasant. "I understand."

A trace of regret mixed with disapproval crossed his face.

That young man from the Atmesia family... keeping him in this little town would only bring trouble.

"Pass on my orders. Don't let Cyril have too much contact with that person again. Also, burn the clothes he wears after he's done with them."

"Yes, my lord."

As he watched the Steward leave, the worry between Baron Ul's brows did not fade.

He picked up a glass of wine, his gaze turning grave.

The ball was meant to be the younger generation's stage, and he had never intended to take much part in it. Though he had learned that the performance was ready, he still couldn't shake his unease.

And just a few hours ago, shocking news had reached his estate—Count Laurie Holt, lord of the Nortonholt region, had died of illness.

Though he wasn't particularly familiar with the count, who had amassed wealth through trade and ultimately bought his title through donations, noble etiquette required him to personally travel to Holder City to pay his respects.

Yet there was something suspicious about the news itself.

Count Holt was nearing sixty, but he had always been robust and energetic, no less vigorous than a younger man. Not long ago, he had even married the famously beautiful Lady Rose—Baroness Serina Nightthorn.

How had he suddenly... died of illness?

Baron Ul's eyelid twitched uncontrollably.

He wandered absentmindedly to the window and looked out at the cold moon hanging in the night sky.

Chill moonlight spilled down, casting the dense bushes beyond the estate walls into shifting shadows.

He took a sip of wine. The cold liquid slid down his throat, but it couldn't extinguish the inexplicable unease in his heart.

The news had come too abruptly, like an undercurrent beneath a calm lake, leaving his mind unsettled.

Then a servant's voice came from outside the door.

"Mistress requests your presence, my lord."

"I understand."

Baron Ul suppressed his chaotic thoughts, set down his wineglass, and left the study.

The night wind swept through the bushes beyond the walls, making their branches and leaves rustle as dark shadows swayed with them.

In the darkness, several pairs of dim yellow eyes were watching the brightly lit estate.

Inside the estate's dressing room.

"Cyril, that's enough. This outfit will do. Stop changing."

He Xi's voice carried a hint of helplessness.

He had been inexplicably "kidnapped" to the estate, shoved into the dressing room without explanation, then surrounded by several servants and made to try on one complicated formal outfit after another like a doll. He felt as though he was about to fall apart.

For a modern soul accustomed to T-shirts and sweatpants, these layered garments with their countless buttons were simply torture.

When He Xi was finally "released" and stood before Cyril and his attendants,

he wore a dark, finely woven stand-collar jacket on his upper body. It fit close to his frame, outlining a slightly lean yet upright figure.

He wore khaki hunting trousers below.

Over it all was a half-cape draped diagonally over one shoulder, its lining made of deep green Demonic Lizard Skin soaked in a special potion.

The outfit perfectly complemented the mysterious air he carried, one born from an ancient bloodline.

Ferdinand rubbed his eyes and jabbed Otto beside him with an elbow. "The Gods Above! Has this kid always been this handsome? Or are those clothes enchanted?"

Otto curled his lips sourly. "Don't be stupid. It's definitely the clothes! Look at that fabric, look at that tailoring! Damn that tailor."

Cyril's eyes lit up, and he became even more pleased with his own "brilliant decision."

He had a servant bring over the sword that had been prepared earlier.

The ball was in full swing.

Quite a few young men and women were already spinning across the dance floor to cheerful music.

In a corner, Isla sat with her chin propped on one hand, lost in thought.

At that moment, she was like a quiet lotus accidentally brought into a bustling market, lacking the usual valiance and sharpness she displayed during training.

She wore a misty blue gauze gown. There were no elaborate decorations on it, only smooth, simple lines that perfectly outlined her young and lovely figure.

Her soft golden hair was loosely gathered behind her head, tied with the leather hairband He Xi had given her.

A few unruly strands still hung by her cheeks, adding a touch of maidenly laziness and ease.

Her gaze seemed to rest on the spinning figures in the dance floor, yet it also seemed to pierce through the lively scene and settle somewhere farther away.

William Rick leaned against a corridor pillar, the wine in his glass untouched for a long while. His gaze clung to the maiden in the corner as he licked at nonexistent wine stains on the corner of his mouth.

He was the second son of a viscount from neighboring Oak Town. He had initially scorned a ball in such a rural little town, considering it nothing more than farmers amusing themselves—no different from watching goblins dance.

Even if there might be a few decent girls at the ball, after being betrayed by the woman he loved, he had thought he would never again be moved by an ordinary woman.

But a few weeks ago, while passing through Plint, he had caught sight of a golden-haired female knight practicing swordsmanship. That brief glimpse had stayed in his mind ever since.

After learning that she was the apprentice of the old knight Edwin and might appear at tonight's ball, he had condescended to attend with the intention of finding a woman to seduce.

Now that he had confirmed the old knight who looked difficult to deal with wasn't present, William could no longer suppress the restlessness in his heart.

He adjusted his expensive velvet coat, smoothed the lace around his collar, put on a smile, and walked gracefully toward Isla.

He placed his left hand over his heart, bowed slightly, and spoke in a deliberately deep, magnetic voice.

"Good evening, beautiful lady. The starlight in the corner is so brilliant—why is it so lonely?"

Confidently, he extended his hand, palm up, in a flawless gesture of invitation.

"May I have the honor of bringing that captivating starlight into the gentle moonlight of the dance floor for a dance?"

In his mind, he was already imagining what "wonderful" story would unfold in his bedroom in Oak Town after he had "plucked" this quiet lotus.

Isla was startled by the sudden voice and exaggerated performance, jolting out of her thoughts.

She looked up, her Sapphire Blue eyes holding a trace of irritation and confusion at being disturbed.

She had come only because she had received the lord's invitation, and because her teacher Edwin hoped she would experience more of life beyond training. She had even changed into the dress the baroness had prepared for her.

The ball was indeed lively, and the townspeople's simplicity and joy had affected her as well. But those free-spirited, utterly unstructured dance moves... truly left her unsure whether to laugh or cry.

She looked at the greasy-faced man before her, his frivolous eyes fixed on her, while a stench like rotten eggs drifted from his body.

Just as she was wondering how to refuse him—

a calm voice came from beside her, shattering the romantic atmosphere William had staged for himself.

At some point, He Xi had appeared at her side. One hand rested casually on the hilt of the sword at his waist, while the other naturally reached out toward Isla.

"Sorry, I'm late."

Only then did he turn his gaze toward William, whose expression was beginning to sour, and smile politely.

"Sir, thank you for looking after my dance partner."