Evening came to the Rochey estate like velvet settling over glass.
The grand dining hall shimmered with candlelight. Long chandeliers of obsidian crystal cast dancing reflections over the polished floors, while the long table—lined with midnight velvet and golden plates—stood prepared like a king's final feast. The air was warm with spices, roasted meats, the sweetness of ripe fruit, and the bold scent of aged wine.
Rina Amberhart stood at the threshold, her eyes scanning the room slowly.
She wore a deep crimson dress now, tailored to match the glow of her fiery hair, and though her heart still felt unsettled, she held her chin high. Her golden eyes flicked to Leona, who stood at her side, brushing a strand of snowy-white hair over one shoulder.
Amelia Amberhart entered behind them, graceful and composed, dressed in a sleek black gown that shimmered faintly beneath the crystal lights. She walked without hesitation to her seat near the head of the table.
The room already held one presence.
Naoko Rochey.
She sat at the very center of the long table, her throne-like chair taller than the rest—dark wood, silver edges, with a crescent-moon crest at the top. Her silver hair shimmered in loose waves down her back, catching the light like strands of liquid mercury. Her silver eyes, calm and sharp, were fixed not on the guests but on the food being served.
Servants moved silently, placing silver trays along the table: roasted pheasant, glazed lamb with herbs, jeweled rice, mountain berries soaked in honey, rich cheeses, sliced dragonfruit, and bowls of steaming bread. Golden goblets filled with aged wine, sparkling liquors, and bottles of deep, amber-colored spirits were set in between. There were carafes of chilled juice, fizzy sodas in glass bottles, and even crystal pitchers of ice water. Every inch of the table glowed with abundance.
Naoko raised a hand without looking.
"Sit," she said.
Her voice wasn't loud. But it filled the room.
Rina and Leona exchanged a glance before pulling out their seats. Leona sat with a comfortable ease, already eyeing the wine closest to her. Rina sat more carefully, folding her hands in her lap before lifting her goblet of sparkling juice. Amelia took her seat last, posture straight, elegance in every movement.
For a time, no one spoke.
Only the sound of silver cutlery, glasses touching lips, and quiet chewing filled the hall.
Naoko took small, precise bites. Her expression never changed, her silver eyes fixed on her plate. She did not look at her guests—did not need to. Her presence was felt from every corner of the room.
Amelia finally broke the silence.
Her golden eyes lifted across the table, tone smooth but deliberate.
"Will your son not be joining us?" she asked.
Naoko didn't look up.
"No," she replied simply, her voice as calm as the winter sea.
Amelia arched a brow. "He doesn't dine with you?"
"He doesn't dine with anyone."
Naoko picked up her goblet—filled not with wine, but water—and took a sip, then continued without looking at her.
"Jin trains during the evening. Alone. He prepares his meals himself. He dislikes being served. He dislikes the smell of liquor. He dislikes being idle."
Leona, already halfway through her second glass of wine, blinked. "Dislikes liquor?"
Naoko didn't glance at her. "He finds it dull. A weapon dulls when you submerge it in indulgence."
Amelia's smile was faint but cold. "And yet you serve indulgence at your table."
"I serve what my guests prefer," Naoko said.
There was no warmth in her tone. But no hostility either. Just a statement of fact.
Rina remained quiet, chewing slowly, her eyes flickering as if she wasn't quite present. Her mind was elsewhere—drifting. *He prepares his own meals.* *He doesn't dine with anyone.* *He trains until midnight.*
Her golden eyes darkened with thoughts. His words echoed in her head: *You don't have to like me. Just stand beside me.* Her future was being written without her ink, without her permission.
She drank again. Her hands were slightly trembling, though she didn't let it show.
Leona, tipsy now, leaned slightly to her left and whispered into Rina's ear, "You're really marrying a ghost."
Rina gave a dry, tight smile.
Then she spoke aloud.
"Lady Naoko," she began, voice soft.
The silver-haired woman looked up for the first time that evening.
"Yes?"
Rina hesitated.
Her cheeks flushed. The question caught on her tongue like something shameful—but she forced herself to continue.
"…What does he like?" she asked. "Your son. What does he enjoy? His favorite foods? Drinks? Anything?"
Leona blinked, surprised. Amelia's fork stopped mid-air.
Naoko looked at her without blinking. Her silver eyes locked with Rina's golden ones.
For a moment, the air itself held its breath.
Then Naoko replied, tone even and unreadable:
"He has no favorite food."
She cut into a piece of grilled meat and continued calmly.
"He dislikes sweets. Finds them pointless. He loathes alcohol and refuses to drink it. He doesn't eat snacks or desserts. Everything he consumes is fuel for the next hour of training."
Naoko placed her fork down and took another sip of water.
"He prepares his own meals in the kitchen during the night. He returns to the outer grounds afterward and continues until dawn. Sometimes until noon. He rarely enters the estate itself."
She set the glass down gently.
"He is only here tonight," she added, "because you three are here."
Rina blinked. "…Because we're here?"
Naoko nodded once.
"You are his age. His equals—at least in strength. That is reason enough to observe."
There was no arrogance in her tone.
Only brutal honesty.
Rina swallowed.
The weight of the words settled over her like a veil. She wasn't here as a guest. She wasn't here as a daughter of Amelia Amberhart. She wasn't even here as a bride-to-be.
She was here because Jin Rochey considered her worth noticing.
Just barely.