Alaric slipped his hand into his pocket and began making his way toward the area where servants were gracefully dispensing wine from crystal decanters.
Before he could reach his destination, a middle-aged man with an overly eager smile intercepted his path.
His eyes had clearly caught sight of the insignia embroidered on Alaric’s doublet, and recognized immediately.
"Ah, young lord! You must be the new heir of House Glimor," the man said with practiced charm.
Alaric paused and turned toward him with visible reluctance.
"Yeah," he replied, his tone flat, making it clear he wasn’t in the mood for lengthy political discourse.
Despite undeterred by the less-than-warm reception, the man still pressed forward with the determination.
"Well, I heard about your remarkable performance for one so young! Actually, you see, I have a daughter. She’s extraordinarily beautiful and accomplished in all the refined arts. Perhaps we might discuss—"
But before the man could complete his sentence.
Alaric lifted his hand in a casual, almost lazy wave, as if brushing the words away.
"I’ll pass."
And turned away, continuing toward his original destination without even sparing a glance back to see the expression he left behind.
Alaric wove his way past a knot of chattering nobles, barely registering their polite nods, and stopped before the long table where a server stood poised with a silver tray of goblets.
Without a word, he took one.
The wine shimmered in a deep blood-red color. under the lantern light.
He brought it to his lips, letting the rich liquid roll over his tongue.
It was different, more fragrant, sharper than anything he’d tasted back in his previous world, or even at the Glimor estate.
This vintage carried notes of dark fruit and spice, with an underlying richness.
Interesting, he thought, and drained it in a few unhurried swallows.
Then set the empty goblet back onto the tray and reached for another.
And another.
And another.
By his fifth glass, a telltale flush had crept across his cheeks, and his crimson eyes had slightly glazed.
Hick!
A small hiccup slipped out as he swirled the remaining wine in his goblet.
"Now this is much better," he muttered to himself, swaying slightly as he surveyed the room with newfound tolerance.
"Maybe I can actually tolerate these tedious peacocks for a few more hours."
Without hesitation, he reached for another glass, the wine’s effects making the entire gathering seem far more manageable than it had moments before.
Hick!
After what seemed to be his tenth glass, Alaric finally set the goblet aside, rolling his shoulders as if shaking off a weight. His steps swayed just slightly, but his gaze was still sharp.
Damn... this body’s really got tolerance, he thought, a faint smirk curling his lips.
He then drifted away from the clinking glasses and murmured politeness of the crowd, heading toward a quieter corner of the hall.
Where tall windows offered a panoramic view of the estate’s gardens.
But as he approached, his stride slowed.
A familiar figure stood before the glass, her posture poised yet relaxed, one hand resting lightly on the sill.
Her gaze was fixed on the world outside, a small, knowing smile playing on her lips.
Inky black hair cascaded down her back in gentle waves.
Even from behind, those distinctive grey eyes were unmistakable.
A small smile playing on her lips as she watched something in the gardens below, seemingly lost in her own quiet contemplation.
Then a cheerful voice cut through the evening air.
"Hey Livy~ what are you doing here all alone?"
A girl swept into view from the side, her hair a honey-blonde cascade tied half-up with a delicate ribbon, the rest spilling over her shoulders in loose curls.
Without hesitation, she looped her arm through Livia’s, drawing the darker-haired girl slightly toward her.
The blonde girl wore a gown of pale pink silk that complemented her fair complexion, and a smile that hinted at practiced charm, though her sharp green eyes darted quickly over the scene, missing little.
Behind her came two more young ladies—one with auburn hair swept up in an elegant chignon, the other a petite brunette whose green dress matched her sparkling eyes. They formed a small circle around Livia.
"Well, just enjoying the view," Livia replied, her smile genuine as she turned to greet her friends.
For the first time that evening, her posture seemed to relax completely.
Their comfortable chatter filled the space with soft laughter and whispered observations about the evening’s events.
The atmosphere was warm and intimate.
And then—
An unwelcome interruption shattered the moment.
"Hello, lovely ladies!"
The voice carried an unmistakable tone of arrogant self-indulgence that made the girls stiffen slightly.
A young man in an ostentatious deep-blue doublet strolled up, every thread of his attire screaming wealth. His brown hair was styled just-so, with the kind of effort that pretended to be effortless, and a smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth like it belonged there.
"Mind if we join this charming gathering as well?" he asked, his tone more of a statement than a question.
A small group of equally well-dressed, equally smug young nobles drifted in behind him, each carrying their own version of the same practiced smile. One adjusted the cuffs of his embroidered sleeves, another smoothed back his hair as if that motion alone were a statement of superiority as they positioned themselves among the ladies without waiting for permission.
The small and careful circle of friends suddenly became crowded with unwanted attention.
"Lady Cordelia, you look absolutely radiant tonight," one declared to the blonde-haired girl, who responded with a bright smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes.
"Thank you, Lord Marcus," she replied, her voice carrying practiced sweetness.
"How kind of you to notice."
The auburn-haired young woman found herself cornered by another suitor who seemed determined to tell her with tales of his family’s latest acquisition of lands.
Her girl’s lips pressed together before she parted them just enough to offer the faintest, most neutral of responses, short nods, clipped acknowledgments, her posture rigid with barely contained irritation.
"Fascinating," she murmured through gritted teeth, encouraging smile.
Meanwhile, the petite brunette had gone perfectly still as the third nobleman launched into what was clearly a rehearsed compliment about her "delicate features."
Her eyes flickered toward the windows as if calculating escape routes, but she remained trapped by the rules of noble etiquette that demanded she endure such attention gracefully.
Livia, in contrast, remained perfectly poised, her chin slightly raised, the faint curve of her lips betraying nothing of her thoughts.
Her hands clasped together in front of her, the only outward sign of her tension, and her gaze flitted, once, twice, toward the open space of the hall.
One of the young men leaned closer, voice dropping to what he probably thought was a charming murmur.
"I must say, Lady Livia, those flowers pales compared to your beauty."
She met his eyes with the smallest, most courteous smile imaginable, the sort that acknowledged the words without welcoming them.
Meanwhile, another noble tossed a line toward the auburn-haired girl about the "rare charm of her freckles," earning a look so cool it could have frozen the wine in his glass.
The man in the deep blue doublet continued his relentless charm offensive, his companions following suit with varying degrees of success. The ladies remained trapped in polite conversation, their discomfort growing more apparent with each passing moment.
Alaric observed the scene with growing amusement, a lazy smirked spreading across his flushed features.
He stretched his arms above his head and released a long sigh.
"Let’s have some fun," he murmured to himself, then began moving toward the group with deliberate purpose.
His footsteps were slightly heavier than usual, designed to draw attention as he approached the window alcove.
The honey-blonde haired girl caught the movement and glanced his way, though she said nothing.
Marcus followed her gaze and raised an eyebrow, but when he spotted the insignia embroidered on Alaric’s chest, a knowing smirk tugged at his lips.
"Well, well, if it isn’t Lord Glimor," he said, straightening to his full height.
Alaric paused and turned toward him, offering an exaggerated bow.
"The pleasure is all mine, Lord Vale."
Marcus’s grin widened, clearly preparing some cutting remark, but Alaric had already shifted his attention elsewhere.
"Wow," Alaric drawled, his crimson eyes locking onto Livia’s with lazy confidence, "and here I thought how the moon was out early, but it seems it’s just you stealing the light."
The compliment was delivered with just enough sincerity to make Livia’s cheeks flush pink.
Her composure cracked. A faint flush crept along her cheeks, and she looked away almost instantly, fingers brushing the edge of her gown as though she suddenly didn’t know where to place them.
"I might need to stay near you the whole evening," he said in a softer tone, the corner of his mouth lifting, "or else I might just lose my way in this crowd."
Her face became beet red like a tomato, as if steam were visibly rising from her ears.
"I..." She bit her lip, unable to say anything.
As Alaric moved a step closer, the wine’s effects became apparent as he swayed slightly, his balance shifting unexpectedly.
"Careful," Livia blurted before she could think, her hand shooting out to steady him.
His balance righted instantly under her touch, and he gave her a smile that only deepened the flush still warming her cheeks.
Out of the corner of his eye, he caught Marcus stiffening ever so slightly.
---
{A/N: I deeply apologize for the inconveniences I had caused you guys.}
I’ll try making up for it.
Though I couldn’t do Mass release yet.
I’ll try dropping the price of privilege tier of next month.