The suit fit perfectly.
I wasn't sure if that was a good thing or a deeply unsettling thing—but as I adjusted the tie, I had to admit that the tailor in Maven City knew what they were doing.
The material was smooth, light, but undeniably expensive, hugging my frame in a way that felt far too tailored for someone like me.
The colors, of course, had been matched to Rachel's dress.
Because that was a thing couples did.
And apparently, we were doing that now.
I ran a hand through my hair, sighing at my reflection.
No matter how well I cleaned up, there was a strange disconnect between the person in the mirror and the person in my head.
But there was no time to dwell on it.
I stepped out into the Ophelia Dorms, the hallways quieter than usual, most students already preparing for the ball themselves.
Rachel's room was just down the hall from mine—because of course it was. All of Class A lived here, after all.
I knocked once, and after a brief pause, the door opened.
Rachel stood in the doorway, framed by the warm dorm lights, looking—
Her dress was deep sapphire and midnight blue, shifting between the two shades like liquid starlight. It wasn't overly extravagant, but it didn't need to be. The fabric shimmered just enough to highlight her every movement, catching the light in a way that made her seem almost unreal.
Her long golden hair cascaded down her shoulders, styled just enough to seem effortless, with a few loose strands framing her face.
She looked like she had stepped straight out of a painting, and for a second—just a second—I forgot how to speak.
Then, as if noticing my hesitation, she smiled.
Bright. Confident. Effortless.
She tilted her head slightly, eyeing me up and down.
I exhaled a quiet laugh. "Not bad, right?"
She twirled slightly, the hem of her dress shifting like flowing water.
"Well?" she asked, expectantly.
I blinked. "Well what?"
Rachel rolled her eyes. "You're supposed to compliment me, Arthur."
I opened my mouth, closed it again, and then sighed dramatically.
Because saying something casual felt wrong.
And so, for once, I just said the truth.
"You look incredible."
For a moment, her eyes searched mine, as if checking for insincerity.
Then, she grinned, pleased.
We left the dorms together, stepping into the academy courtyard, where our ride was already waiting.
A sleek, black limousine—because of course Mythos Academy had luxury vehicles just for transporting students to formal events.
And waiting inside, already seated, were Lucifer Windward and Seraphina Zenith.
Lucifer sat at ease, his tailored black suit fitting him perfectly, golden hair styled with almost frustrating effortlessness. His verdant green eyes flicked to us the moment we stepped in, something amused but unreadable in his expression.
Seraphina, seated beside him, was calm, unreadable as ever, her silver hair framing her face perfectly, her dress a shimmering pale silver that suited her icy demeanor.
Rachel slid into the seat across from them, and I followed, settling beside her.
Lucifer's gaze flicked to Rachel first, then to me.
"You actually got him to wear a suit," he remarked, half-impressed, half-mocking.
Rachel grinned. "Of course. He's my date, after all."
Lucifer raised an eyebrow.
Seraphina studied me for a moment, her expression neutral, but there was something thoughtful about the way her ice-blue eyes flickered between me and Rachel.
The door closed behind us, and just like that—
We were on our way to the Freshman Ball.
True to limousine standards, the interior was absurdly luxurious, designed for people who had never known inconvenience. Plush leather seats stretched out with far too much space between them, as if the designers had never actually seen people sit before and were worried they might need to lie down at any moment.
A mini-fridge nestled in the corner hummed softly, stocked with a variety of non-alcoholic drinks, because while Mythos Academy allowed its students to engage in high-stakes combat and survival exams, they drew the line at wine.
Lucifer, ever the conversationalist, leaned back and eyed me curiously.
"Is this your first ball, Arthur?"
It was a simple enough question, but considering who I was sitting with, the answer felt almost embarrassingly obvious.
As heirs to the world's most powerful families, the three of them had grown up attending events . Of course, recognition as official guests at formal balls only came after a certain age, but even before that, they had been paraded around, learning etiquette and social maneuvering before they could legally hold a sword.
I shook my head. "Yeah. My father's just a knight captain, so I never had the opportunity."
Fifteen. That was the age when children of knights were finally allowed into noble gatherings—not as honored guests, but as functional participants. Nobility, of course, had no such restriction. They could grace ballrooms before they could form complete sentences.
Rachel smiled, tilting her head slightly, her sapphire eyes gleaming with amusement.
"You must be excited then," she said, her tone somewhere between genuine curiosity and playful teasing. "Your first ball, and you're going with a princess."
I exhaled slowly. "Yeah, no pressure."
The limousine came to a smooth halt, the automatic locks clicking open with pristine efficiency.
I stepped out first, straightening my jacket, before turning to offer my hand to Rachel.
She accepted, her small fingers lightly curling around mine, stepping out with the kind of grace that had clearly been drilled into her from birth.
That was when I noticed the red carpet.
Because of course there were cameras.
Together, we walked forward, the AI-controlled lenses clicking away at perfect intervals, capturing flawless shots at scientifically calculated angles.
Because why settle for random photography when you could program a camera to make sure every picture belonged in a history book?
The carpet led to a crystalline staircase, its transparent surface glowing faintly from some absurdly advanced tensile-strength enchantment that allowed it to hold up the weight of an entire Academy's worth of nobility without shattering into a million pieces.
At the top, a professor greeted us with a smile, pushing open the gold-trimmed doors with an ease that suggested he had done this hundreds of times before.
A cathedral of wealth and status, stretching high into vaulted ceilings lined with intricate carvings that seemed to move subtly in the chandelier's glow.
I squinted up at the massive, diamond-encrusted monstrosity hanging from the ceiling, its golden framework glistening under the warm light.
'How much did that cost?'
'No, actually—how many warships could be built for the cost of that one chandelier?'
Lucifer, clearly enjoying my reaction, clapped a hand on my shoulder.
"Quite a sight, huh?" he said, grinning.
I exhaled. "Yeah, it's—a lot."
"Just wait till you see the early birds," he added, leading us toward the dance floor.
The room was already filling up with students arriving in waves, their conversations blending into a soft hum of practiced etiquette and careful arrogance.
Across the hall, Ian was already entertaining a small crowd, his sharp red eyes glinting mischievously as he engaged in some overly dramatic storytelling, probably about dragons.
Jin, standing in a much quieter corner, looked like he was mentally cataloging every spirit in the room, while Ren leaned against a pillar, exuding the kind of controlled aggression that suggested he was here purely because it was mandatory.
Rachel took my arm lightly, guiding us further inside.
"Enjoying yourself?" she asked.
I glanced around. "Not as terrifying as I expected."
"You say that now," she said, laughing softly.
Cecilia had, mercifully, not arrived yet. But somehow, I knew it was only a matter of time.
I was in the Freshman Ball with Rachel Creighton as my date.