Aria almost withered under her father’s enraged gaze but with a quick shake of her head, she was able to shake it off. She took a step forward and with an unusually cold tone, she shot back
"What? You forget the face and voice of your daughter?"
Gasps rippled through the crowd. Some had already begun backing away, recognizing who she was. Others simply stood frozen, too shocked or intoxicated to react. All eyes were on them now.
Gerard’s face twisted with raw disgust. His gaze moved from her wings to her chest, then back to her eyes.
He spat onto the marble floor.
"That Samael brat went against his word. Instead of making you better, he made you worse. What the fuck did he do to change you into this?"
His voice dripped with venom. To him, she wasn’t even human anymore. Not a person. Just a failed product. A deviation. An insult.
The silence that followed was heavy.
Aria felt her fingers twitch at her sides. Her wings pulsed behind her with restrained fury.
But she did not look away. She let the hatred in his eyes wash over her. She let it burn.
And then she answered.
"He taught me it’s okay to be myself. That I don’t have to follow your own twisted logic. I was never a man. I can never be the son you wanted nor do I want to be!"
Her voice echoed through the grand hall, cutting through the stunned silence like a blade. Her words hung heavy in the air, too sharp to ignore, too real to dismiss.
Gerard’s face twitched.
The arrogant calm he had worn before cracked, revealing something far uglier beneath. He took a step forward on the balcony, placing his hands on the railing as he glared down at her like she was some malformed stain on his perfect world.
"You ungrateful little freak," he hissed. "Do you have any idea what I sacrificed for you? What I built for you?"
Aria’s eyes narrowed.
"You didn’t build anything for me. You built a cage and tried to dress it up like a gift."
Whispers began to stir among the partygoers. Some began inching toward the exits. Others stood, frozen between curiosity and fear. The illusion of control Gerard had relied on for so long was starting to slip.
Gerard slammed his hand down on the balcony railing.
"I gave you a future! Power! Influence! And you threw it all away for what? Some freakish wings and delusions of freedom?"
Aria stepped forward again, the feathers of her wings rustling with tension. She could feel the heat rising in her blood but she held it back, forcing herself to stay steady.
"I chose to live. To feel. To protect people who couldn’t protect themselves. I chose truth over the lie you wrapped around my throat and called love."
Gerard’s eyes went wide with fury.
"You are mine!" he roared.
"No," Aria said, her voice firm and clear. "I never was."
The silence that followed was absolute.
Even the lights seemed to dim for a moment as her words sank in.
And somewhere in the crowd, someone began to clap.
Slow. Sarcastic. Mocking.
"Is this the greatest show you wanted to show me. Mr. Eversong? Frankly I am disappointed."
he voice rang out clear and slow, each word soaked in disdain. It was calm, precise, and eerily composed. The kind of voice that didn’t need to shout to command attention.
Aria turned toward the sound.
A man stepped forward from the upper tier, away from the velvet-seated guests and security. He was tall, immaculately dressed in a tailored navy suit with a silver dragon-shaped pin on his lapel. His brown hair was neatly styled, with not a strand out of place. His expression was unreadable, but his eyes gleamed with cold intelligence.
Aria didn’t recognize him.
She froze, her brows tightening as a visible chill ran through her.
Crystal’s voice was barely a whisper, but it cut through the noise in her head like glass. Her father glanced at her, his gaze cool and impassive, as if he were looking at a stranger.
He acknowledged her with a single nod, then turned his attention back to Gerard without another word.
"As Mayor," Lance said, voice steady and devoid of warmth, "I am required to make appearances. Even at these detestable charades where the rich pretend their egos count as culture."
He spoke as if the confrontation unfolding below him was nothing more than a mildly unpleasant disruption. Not rage. Not horror. Just irritation at being forced to watch a show he didn’t ask for.
Crystal’s chest tightened.
That was just like him. Always there in title, never in presence. She could vanish for weeks, and he wouldn’t bat an eye. For a second, she almost wondered if he ever cared.
"I thought it might be worthwhile," Lance continued, adjusting his cufflinks, "to observe firsthand what Gerard Eversong considers legacy. Now I see I overestimated him."
His gaze swept over the crowd once more before settling on Crystal again. His expression didn’t change, but there was a noticeable pause.
The word was spoken with the same sterile cadence as before, but there was a faint edge to it now. A hesitation. As if something in her current appearance had finally reached past the armor of his indifference.
"What is the meaning of this attire?" he asked. "Are you injured?"
His tone wasn’t accusing, nor was it gentle. Just a flat inquiry that barely disguised the unease underneath.
Crystal straightened her back but didn’t answer right away.
She wasn’t sure how to.
After a moment, she grit her teeth and drew her sword, pointing it at him with frost like energy surrounding her.
"It’s part of who I am now. Not that you actually care right, Father?"
The slight pause that followed was filled with tension. Lance’s gaze hardened for a moment, but he said nothing.
Instead, he nodded once with a slight sigh
"Very well. Just be cautious. This is not a forgiving world."
He turned without another word, but froze when Crystal spoke up again.
"I know that well. I have had a gun pointed at my head trying to help innocent people escape danger all because this asshole made this place a private event!"
Lance went rigid for a moment before his gaze snapped to Gerard, cold and unyielding. His voice was calm but every word cut like a razor.
"Did you really put civilians in danger so they didn’t interrupt this ’private event’ of yours, Gerard? Is that true?"
The question hung heavy in the air, charged with quiet fury.
Gerard’s face paled and his hands trembled as he gripped the railing.
"That’s... not what happened," he stammered, trying to steady his voice. "Everything was under control. No one was meant to be harmed."
Lance’s eyes narrowed, his voice dropping to a low, cutting edge.
"Control? The only thing you have control over now is your own life. You better be careful from now on or you will lose that too."
The Mayor had spoken and a Media empire was now getting closer to collapsing.