The moment we stepped into the room, the atmosphere was serene—calm chatter, delicate laughter, the soft clink of crystal glasses.
Naturally, Art decided that such tranquility was a personal offense.
With a quick glance back at me, he marched forward like a theatrical noble stepping onto a stage and threw his arms wide with a flamboyant grin.
"Happy to meet you all!!" he shouted with such unearned energy, it almost echoed.
Every conversation in the room halted at once. Heads turned. All eyes shifted to the noisy intruder.
But instead of irritation, their expressions brightened.
Lilith was the first to react. Her eyes glinted with mischief as she approached, swaying her hips like a predator zeroing in on prey. She stopped right in front of Art, leaned down slightly—just enough to make her presence more felt—and studied his face with exaggerated seriousness.
"You've grown into quite the handsome young man," she said, her voice silky and teasing.
Art ran a hand through his hair as if she'd merely stated the obvious, basking in the praise like he expected applause next.
I barely contained the groan forming in my throat. 'Don't inflate his ego. He doesn't need help.'
He chuckled and, with an unnecessary flourish, took Lilith's hand. "And you've blossomed into a stunning woman, Little Lilith."
She narrowed her golden eyes, then smacked his hand away like it was a fly buzzing around her drink.
"No! No, no!" she scolded with faux indignation. "You can't just grab the hand of a pure maiden like that."
Art scoffed dramatically. "You being a pure maiden is an insult to all pure maidens."
Lilith's fist rose ever so slowly, her smile twitching with dangerous intent.
Art saw it and immediately raised his hands in mock surrender. "Alright, alright, I yield!"
Then, as if sensing an opportunity to cause even more chaos, he turned his attention to Freya.
Right there, like a damn knight, he gracefully lowered himself, took Freya's hand like it was made of porcelain, and placed a kiss on it.
I could practically hear the record scratch in Lilith's mind.
Her face twisted into disbelief, then fiery outrage. In a blink, she marched over, grabbed Art by the collar, and started yanking him back and forth like a ragdoll.
"Why did you kneel for her and not for me?!" she shouted, scandalized.
Still swaying from the force of her shaking, Art didn't even try to escape. In fact, he smirked.
"Favorites," he declared with zero shame. "I'm playing favorites."
'Does he have a brain cell shortage, or does he just choose not to use them?'
Lilith raised her fist again, this time seriously preparing to punch him into the next dimension. I leaned a bit forward, watching with interest.
'Yes, yes... do it. Punch that smug grin off his face. C'mon...'
But before the scene could turn delightfully violent, Freya gently placed her hand on Lilith's shoulder.
"Leave it, Lilith," she said with a serene sigh. "You know how he is. The more you react, the more he'll tease you."
Lilith frowned, but after a moment, she released Art, tossing him aside like discarded laundry.
He landed with an over-the-top groan, sprawled on the polished floor like a fallen actor at the climax of a tragic play.
Then came Celeste, brown-haired and graceful, strolling up with a raised brow and mischievous smirk.
"You haven't changed a bit," she said, hands on her hips. "Still the same old prankster. And pain in the a—"
Art shot up with a scandalized gasp, putting a finger to his lips. "Language, my dear! Such vulgarity doesn't suit someone of your divine grace."
Celeste squinted at him, clearly suspicious. "...Was that sarcasm?"
Freya, Lilith, and even Art himself nodded at the same time.
A vein throbbed at Celeste's temple as she cracked her knuckles, looking one bad word away from pounding him into marble dust.
But before she could act, Art lifted both hands in surrender again—an act he seemed very familiar with.
Then, as if deciding he'd caused enough trouble, he dramatically pivoted toward me and announced, "Forget about me—the real transformation here is our Cassius!"
Evelyn, who had been quietly swirling her wine in the corner, finally spoke, her tone laced with cool amusement. "Oh? And how so?"
Art grinned and strolled over to me, placing a hand on my shoulder and shoving me forward into the spotlight like I was some prize at an auction.
"This guy," he declared with flair, "has lost his purity."
A dead, suffocating silence fell over the room like a heavy curtain.
Even the background music from the enchanted orchestra charm faded out. Somewhere in the castle, a servant probably dropped a tray.
Then Evelyn—damn her dramatic flair—actually dropped her wine glass to the floor with a delicate crack.
Her eyes wide, lips parted in an exaggerated 'O,' she looked at me like I had personally murdered her favorite poet.
The rest weren't much better. Shocked faces, raised brows, awkward coughs.
That madlad. That absolute enigma of a man.
He just stood there, arms crossed, wearing the faintest smile of amusement, like he was watching a live play and enjoying every second.
'This asshole did it on purpose...'
I grabbed Art by the collar and yanked him off the ground with no hesitation, my grip tightening.
"He did that on purpose," I growled, turning toward the others. "His pranks are seriously pushing my limits."
All of them. Even Zyon, the quietest among us, nodded in agreement like we were holding an intervention.
Art wheezed, his face contorting as he tried to speak through my hold.
"S-See...? Th-this is what I meant..."
I dropped him with a loud thud and stepped back.
He bounced back to his feet instantly, grinning from ear to ear. "See?! That's what I meant! He's not our gentle pacifist boy anymore!"
He opened his arms wide like he expected applause.
But I couldn't help but exhale through my nose.
Yeah... I had changed.