Chapter 107 - Silver Engagement (3)
A white lie is still a lie. But lying, in and of itself, is not inherently a sin.
Yes, lies can deceive, manipulate, and mislead.
But they can also protect, shielding others from harsh truths. They can be the gears and fuel that keep certain dynamics running smoothly. — Number 1 Bullshitter
—
Shortly after enjoying a relatively smooth and civil dinner, Sebastian and Acier stood from their seats and signaled Draven and Nathan with their eyes before heading toward the podium.
The Faust and Agrippa heads abruptly rose and followed.
Morgen cocked his head in confusion as he watched his father step onto the stand, while Nacht narrowed his eyes in interest.
Across the ballroom, noble houses and guests seated at their tables paused, their attention drawn to the sudden movement.
The chatter engulfing the event hall swiftly faded into a deafening silence as Sebastian took his place in front of the lectern, now the focal point of everyone's attention—Noelle still clinging to his shirt, refusing to let go or be handed off, and still chewing on his coronet.
Looking a bit helpless as he held his baby, Sebastian forced out a charismatic, graceful smile, bent forward slightly, and spoke into the microphone-like magic tool.
"Apologies for interrupting your dinner, ladies and gentlemen. I do hope the food and beverages have been to your liking."
Once again, the bulk of the nobility smiled wryly. Few among them would dare cause a scene for their hosts—especially when said host was a Duke, a Royal Advisor, and married to the strongest and arguably most influential woman in the kingdom.
One by one, in near-synchronized unison, they lifted their glasses filled with different blends and brews of wine in a mock toast.
"Nonsense, Lord Silva, it is our honor for you to grace us with your words," one bloated baron began, dripping with exaggerated praise.
Another, not wanting to lose out on the chance to suck up, smoothly chimed in, "I believe most of us have already finished our meals—very delectable ones, I might add. No need to feel guilty, Your Grace."
A noblewoman fanned herself and let out a soft, melodious chortle. "Even if that weren't the case, all of us are undoubtedly eternally grateful for the opportunity to bask in your everlasting glow and wisdom."
Yami nearly choked on his steak at the sheer level of dickriding.
Acier, standing beside her husband, her ever-present smile unwavering, let her grin take on a dangerous edge.
She lightly pinched Sebastian's side behind the lectern, making him stiffen before he coughed awkwardly into the mic.
"A-ahem, a-anyway, we of House Silva have several announcements to make—ones that may shape the future of our kingdom. Please lend us your ears."
At his words, everyone straightened in their seats. At the main table, nearly all of them turned their gazes toward the podium, interest and curiosity flickering in their eyes.
All except Nozel, Dorothy, and... Benedictus.
Well, there was one more individual among them who seemed wholly uninterested—toddler Leopold. But that likely had more to do with the fact that he was happily lost in his own world, munching on a handful of nuts.
As for young baby princess Mimosa, she was instinctively drawn to the podium—not by any understanding of the moment, but by her father's movements in his seat and the shift of the room's attention toward the stand.
Satisfied with capturing nearly everyone's undivided attention, Sebastian's features softened momentarily before he grew somber. Nodding once more, he spoke into the microphone again.
"Many among you have surely been made aware of my wife's plight—the illness that has plagued her for most of this year... and the deathly state she was in even just a few weeks ago."
The audience blinked, caught off guard by the shift in atmosphere and unexpected topic. Almost instinctively, their eyes shifted to Acier Silva, standing beside her husband—radiant, composed, a picture of health. Had they not known better, no one would have believed she had been on her deathbed mere weeks ago.
Many had assumed the Steel Princess wouldn't live to see the end of last month, yet there she stood before them, her complexion clear, her physique undeniably strong.
Sebastian raised a hand to silence the murmurs before they could spiral out of control. He took a deep breath, closing his eyes briefly before opening them again to continue.
"We would like it to be known to all that, contrary to reports, intelligence, or diagnoses, my wife did not simply grow ill from childbirth..."
The crowd stiffened.
Sebastian paid them little attention as he turned his head, locking eyes with Acier.
Acier smiled and leaned into the mic, finishing his sentence with a declaration that sent a shockwave through the hall.
"I was cursed."
Silence. A deathly, suffocating silence.
One... two... three seconds passed.
Then the floodgates burst open.
"WHAT?!"
The roar of the crowd was near deafening.
A wide array of reactions rippled through the room.
Lilly and Ellenor blinked in shock. Kaiser Granvorka twirled his mustache, his expression would have seemed unreadable, perhaps even indifferent—if not for the slight sweat rolling down his cheeks. Zara and Zora tensed. Charlotte stiffened instinctively, one hand pressing lightly against her chest. Others mumbled incoherent thoughts under their breath.
Yami whistled. "Damn. Didn't see that one coming..."
At the main table, Amara, Amber, Aurelia, and Florian sat frozen, their pupils blown wide.
Nebra, Solid, and Vanessa nearly jumped from their seats, only for Nozel and Dorothy to yank them back down.
With a few whispered words, the two elder siblings quelled their reactions, instructing them to keep listening.
Ignatius and Fuegoleon narrowed their eyes, glancing toward Mereoleona. She, however, remained completely unfazed. Not a flicker of surprise crossed her face.
Damnatio and Conrad, though initially caught off guard, soon shifted their focus to Anslem and Benedictus—both of whom had yet to react.
Their eyes narrowed.
As the cries and whispers of incredulity grew, they were swiftly drowned out by Augustus. His slack-jawed shock twisted into rage as he shot up from his seat, looking livid.
He twirled his royal scepter, scanning the hall before bellowing from deep within his belly.
"CURSED?! Who would dare curse royalty?!"
Blood vessels popped in his eyes as his mana flared.
"Is it one of you trash?! Is this mutiny?!"
The nobility stiffened, breaking into a cold sweat. Before any of them could deny Augustus' accusations—or before Conrad could intervene—the king had already locked onto his target.
His scepter snapped toward a table at the far back, where a family of four sat.
House Vaude.
Augustus narrowed his gaze at their patriarch, Ledior, and spat in his direction.
"Was it you?!!!"
Ledior yelped, looking utterly wronged. In a heartbeat, he threw himself to the floor, prostrating so deeply his forehead pressed against the ground.
"N-No, of course not, Y-Your Majesty! H-How could I ever dare to do something so treasonous?!"
Not a second later, his wife, Liliane, dropped to her knees beside him, voice trembling as she pleaded.
"Please, have mercy, Your Majesty!"
Before Augustus could respond, Liliane snapped her head toward the table, fixing her sharp gaze on the two boys sitting there.
"Langris..." she called sweetly—only for her voice to darken with venom as she spoke the next name.
"Finral! Get down here and plead with His Majesty!"
The half-brothers exchanged a blank look, readying themselves to kneel—only for a calm, steady voice to cut through the tension.
"There's no need for that."
All eyes turned back toward Acier Silva as she continued, her voice resolute through the microphone.
"Everyone, please return to your seats. The culprit was not a person of the Clover Kingdom and has already been disposed of. We did not make this announcement in a pursuit of justice."
A heavy silence hung over the hall.
Then, slowly, the nobles returned to their seats, still tense.
Ledior and Liliane shot Acier a teary-eyed look of eternal gratitude—one she pointedly ignored.
Augustus scowled at Ledior before letting out a sharp snort, grinding his teeth as he plopped back down into his chair.
Acier stepped back from the lectern as Sebastian leaned down, seamlessly picking up where she left off.
"We are not here to demand a culprit—that has long been dealt with. Nor are we here to seek justice. No, this announcement is about gratitude—and about carving out a brighter future for our kingdom."
The audience blinked, confusion flickering across their faces.
Gratitude? For what?
But this time, they kept their thoughts to themselves as Sebastian continued, his voice low yet powerful, spinning a half-truth into something almost poetic.
"It was a particularly vicious curse—one that bound my wife in silence. Had she spoken of it, the curse would have passed to anyone who heard, spreading like a plague. That is why no doctor, no healer, nor any who came to treat her were informed of her true condition."
A heavy stillness settled over the hall, breaths hitching as unease crept into their chests.
Sebastian's expression softened.
"She had hoped that through careful diagnosis, someone—anyone—would uncover the truth of her sickness. But the curse was too complex... too ancient... for anyone to see it for what it was. Instead, they mistook it for nothing more than a post-pregnancy relapse."
His grip tightened around Noelle, ocean-blue eyes darkening.
"Even we—her family—were left in the dark, unaware of her true plight. Just three weeks ago, many of us were coming to terms with her inevitable passing. After all, how could we help her if we didn't even know what was wrong?"
Sebastian trailed off, before suddenly brightening as he turned his head to the right, drawing all attention toward Nathan.
"But then..." his voice lifted, "the foremost expert in the Clover Kingdom on hexes and curses, Sir Nathan of the Agrippa family, paid us a discreet visit and revealed the true nature of her condition."
A ripple of shock spread through the crowd.
Sebastian smiled. "And through Nathan's expertise—and his wife's aid—they managed to treat her. Save her. And for that, I, my wife, and House Silva will remain eternally grateful."
The finality of his words hung in the air.
All at once, the derisive glances that had lingered on Nathan and the Agrippa family shifted. The scorn, the dismissiveness—it faded, replaced by begrudging acknowledgment. Even respect.
Acier's family and loved ones turned toward Nathan on the podium, their gazes brimming with genuine gratitude. Jonna, seated at their table, received the same.
Across from them, Nacht narrowed his eyes.
Hmm... only the Agrippas? His fingers tapped against his armrest. What about us...?
Nathan, never one for socializing—let alone being the center of attention—rubbed the back of his head sheepishly.
Meanwhile, Sebastian reached beneath the lectern, pulling out a long, ancient parchment.
One unmistakably stamped with the patriarch's mark.
A hushed stillness gripped the hall.
Many who instantly recognized the parchment for what it was stiffened, eyes locked on Sebastian as he beamed.
"Naturally, talk is cheap—actions are not. So, through the power and privileges granted to me and House Silva, I bestow noble status upon Nathan and his family."
Sebastian let the words settle, allowing the weight of his declaration to sink in before handing the parchment to Nathan.
"From this moment forward, the Agrippa Family is no more. House Agrippa shall take its place—as a barony."
A stunned silence filled the hall.
The nobles went wide-eyed, shock rippling through them.
Noble ranks were rigid, layered from highest to lowest:
At the top sat the reigning monarch—King or Queen—followed by their consort. Below them was the rank of Archduke, a position that had long been theoretical rather than practical. Not since the breakup of the Silvamillion family had an Archduke existed, with the three royal houses keeping one another in check.
Next came the Crown Prince or Princess—who, in reality, often held less power than the rank that followed: Duke and Duchess. Below them were Princes and Princesses, who, again, were outranked by Marquesses (or Margraves) and Marchionesses. Then came Counts (or Earls) and Countesses, followed by Barons and Baronesses, Lords and Ladies, and finally, the rank of Knight.
In the past, before commoners and peasants were permitted to join the Magic Knights, entry into the order came with an automatic noble title—knight. But that was a topic for another time.
The real shock was this: Sebastian had not only elevated Nathan and his family to nobility, but he had granted them the highest rank possible in his power without so much as consulting the throne or the imperial courts.
A moment ago, the Agrippa family had been nothing more than lowborn. Now, House Agrippa stood among them as equals.
Or perhaps... more than equals.
No fiefs or lordships were granted during this ceremony, but that didn't matter. Even among the nobility, rank dictated access—most barons and lower-ranked nobles weren't even admitted to events relating to House Silva unless they were family or close allies. Any lords or knights present today had only attended as individuals, often as plus-ones.
And now, House Agrippa wasn't just among them. It was above them.
Their sudden elevation was made even worse by their deepening relationship with House Silva. That connection alone elevated their status beyond mere title.
Many nobles didn't take kindly to that.
The so-called true nobles—those who could trace their lineage back to the kingdom's founding—had already grown bitter over the rising number of commoners in their "illustrious" ranks. A peasant climbing the ladder was one thing. If Nathan had started as a knight and earned his way up to Baron over the years, like Baron François had done, perhaps they could have tolerated it.
But he had skipped several ranks entirely.
Baron—a position many of their families had been stuck on for centuries, with no hope of promotion.
They hated it.
But none of them dared say a word.
In the current Clover Kingdom, where there was no Queen Consort or Crown Prince, the Dukes stood as the highest power under the throne—if one didn't count the Wizard King.
And Sebastian?
As the sole royal advisor, he was, for all intents and purposes, an unofficial Archduke.
So long as he remained in Augustus' favor—and maintained his ties with Conrad, Ignatius, and Damnatio—his word was law.
To rebuke him was to rebuke them—the five most powerful political forces in the kingdom.
And no one was foolish enough to make an enemy of all of them.
So, instead, the nobles simply grimaced—forcing tight, reluctant smiles as they swallowed their grievances.
Sebastian turned toward the main table and inclined his head respectfully to Augustus.
"Forgive me if I have overstepped, Your Majesty."
Augustus beamed, twirling his mustache as he soaked in the deference. With a pleased shake of his head, he dismissed the notion.
"Nonsense! Wasn't it you who said we should always seek to demonstrate my benevolence?" He smirked. "It's only natural you do the same—and show your gratitude. Lest someone accuse House Silva of being ungrateful!"
With that, Augustus turned his gaze to Nathan and gave a light nod.
"We welcome you to the aristocracy, Baron Agrippa."
Nathan bowed deeply, while the audience—some with strained smiles, others exchanging wry glances—offered a polite round of applause.
Sebastian suppressed his smugness and gave a single nod. The applause ceased at once.
He spoke into the mic again.
"Now. Let's discuss how this benefits our kingdom... or at least, some of us."
The crowd quieted.
Sebastian continued.
"Healing my wife is just the beginning. Baron Agrippa's dream is to transform his family's legacy of hexes and curses into something greater—to strengthen rather than weaken, to turn curses into power, enhancing vitality, bolstering resistance to disease, and more."
He let the words sink in.
"Across the kingdom, countless individuals—regardless of class—have been cursed, afflicted by monsters like the one who attacked my wife. Many nobles here tonight know this pain. Some of you live with it—trapped in suffering, forced into impossible lives."
Sebastian's eyes swept the room.
"I say this suffering ends today."
His voice carried weight.
"To those here who bear such afflictions—or know someone who does, be it family, friend, colleague, or servant—direct them to House Agrippa. They would be honored to help. Grateful for the opportunity to save as many lives as possible."
He let that promise settle before driving his point home.
"This is just the beginning. A chance to hone their craft. A chance to develop cures—not just for curses, but for diseases that plague our people. No more lives lost to something as trivial as the common flu. No longer shall hexes be practical death sentences.
House Agrippa's research and healing will be sponsored and promoted by House Silva. We stand as guarantors of their skill and ethics."
Sebastian lifted a hand.
"So don't hesitate. Visit House Agrippa. Let them help you. Let this be the catalyst for a kingdom purified of disease! A kingdom where curses don't destroy lives—but restore them.
If a sword can protect, then a hex can bloom life instead of reaping it."
He dipped his head ever so slightly.
The moment hung heavy.
Then—
Clap! Clap! Clap!
The vast majority of the audience shot to their feet, launching into a synchronized, thunderous applause.
Not everyone remained unaffected.
At the main table, Damnatio clapped beside his uncle, but a flicker of light passed through his eyes—a moment of shock flashing across his face before it abruptly vanished.
Elsewhere, at House Roselei's table, Lord Roselei turned to his daughter, his voice laced with quiet plea and hope.
"Charlotte..."
Charlotte snapped out of her daze. Then her expression darkened. She averted her gaze, refusing to meet his eyes.
"Don't say my name, you filthy man." Her voice was cold, cutting. "I need no one's help. This curse—I'll handle it myself."
Roosevelt Roselei stiffened. His shoulders slumped, and he let out a quiet breath, his head lowering in shame.
Beside him, a four-year-old boy with small, dangling legs, blonde hair, and bright blue eyes looked between them. His beady eyes studied Roosevelt, then Charlotte, before he spoke in a high, innocent voice.
"Why're you always so mean to Dad, Sis?"
Charlotte went rigid. She didn't respond. Her lips pressed into a thin line, her gaze refusing to meet the child's.
Don't call me that! I'm not your sister! she screamed inwardly, biting down on her lips to keep the words trapped inside.
Roosevelt, noticing the darkness brewing in her, turned to the boy with a strained smile.
"Luck, we've been over this. Call me Father, not Dad. And call Charlotte Sister."
Charlotte's nails dug deeper into her palms, but she said nothing.
Luck, however, simply blinked—then nodded cheerfully. "Okay, Dad!"
Roosevelt sighed deeply. He could have corrected him. Should have. But in the end... he couldn't bring himself to force the change.
Meanwhile, on the podium, Sebastian and Nathan exchanged a knowing smile.
Once, the Agrippas had insisted on keeping their involvement in healing Acier secret—fearing the attention of her enemies, namely Vanica and Megicula.
But now?
Vanica was dead. Megicula's influence on this world had been severed—at least for now.
There was no longer a need to hide in the shadows.
They wanted to bring their work into the light—to help as many people as possible, as soon as possible.
Acier was just the beginning for Nathan.
Next would be Henry. Then the woman Sebastian had mentioned, the one suffering from a similar affliction. And then—countless others.
He would realize not only his own dream, but his father's dream.
He would transform his family's dark legacy into something worthy of nobility—adhering to noblesse oblige, never forgetting the support of House Silva and others.
What he passed down to his son—and his future children—would not be a history of blood, pain, and suffering.
No.
It would be something Gordon could be proud to be part of.
A small, unshakable joy bloomed in Nathan's chest. He couldn't hide his smile. With his gothic makeup, it made for a rather creepy expression—but no one said a word.
He stepped back.
Draven stepped forward.
Standing beside Sebastian.
Sebastian chuckled softly into the mic.
"Now that the heavy topic is out of the way, let's move on to our second announcement—hopefully a much shorter one."
Polite laughter rippled through the crowd as he continued.
"House Faust, one of the oldest earldoms in our kingdom, has long kept to the outskirts of noble society, withdrawing ever since the heroic sacrifice of our first Wizard King."
The more knowledgeable members of the audience nodded, intrigued by the unexpected mention of such a reclusive house.
Sebastian didn't keep them waiting.
"They've remained largely private, devoting themselves to their own passions—particularly in following Lord Lemiel's footsteps by extensively researching and developing magic tools."
Soft murmurs of surprise spread through the hall.
At their table, Nacht and Morgen both narrowed their eyes.
Yami, seated nearby, could feel Morgen's surprise. Nacht, on the other hand, was practically calling bullshit through his Ki. And honestly... they weren't wrong.
Sebastian was lying through his teeth.
But Yami said nothing.
There was no malice in the man's words, no ill intentions in his actions. Calling him out would only put Draven in a tough spot, and Yami wasn't about to do his buddies' dad like that.
So he just kept listening.
Sebastian's smile didn't waver.
"Recently, they've made groundbreaking progress in their projects and advancements—achievements that, once again, House Silva can personally attest to. And now, they wish to share their work with the kingdom."
His voice carried through the hall, brimming with conviction.
"And so, I am pleased to announce the establishment of their very own magic tool workshop—The Emporium of Fortune. Sponsored, funded, and backed by House Silva and other key parties."
A new wave of murmurs spread through the audience.
"There will be a showcase in the capital one month from now. We invite you all to attend—to witness and test firsthand the magnificent creations that will be on display."
Sebastian's tone grew more resolute, his gaze sweeping across the room.
"Additionally, due to the sheer scale of this project—one that we hope will revolutionize the kingdom, ushering in a new era and reclaiming our status as the world's most advanced industrialized nation—we are actively seeking new talent."
He let the words settle before adding:
"So, if you know anyone skilled in the field of magic tools, someone seeking employment or new opportunities—please, direct them our way."
A brief silence followed before the audience exchanged surprised glances. Then, polite nods. A ripple of applause spread through the hall.
At the back of the room, a certain orange-haired young woman perked up.
This was Dominante Code—refugee from the Diamond Kingdom, magic tool craftsman, and genius inventor. She had fled to Clover alongside her (boy)friend Fanzell Kruger, as well as Lotus, his wife, and many of the children who had suffered under the twisted experiments of Morris Libardirt.
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Shortly after arriving in the Clover Kingdom, Dominante had run into a familiar face—her fellow witch and sister, Dorothy—while searching for a gift for her parents in the capital.
That meeting had led to an unexpected exchange.
Dominante had gifted Dorothy a set of protective grimoire cover gels, which Dorothy later passed on to Sebastian and Acier. In return, Dorothy had extended an invitation to her engagement ceremony. And evidently, Dominante had accepted, arriving today with her plus-one and escort—Fanzell.
Life in Clover had been anything but easy for them.
Finding a place to stay, caring for the children—it had been a constant struggle with only the four of them shouldering the burden. Things had only just begun to settle down. Now, most of them were searching for work.
Lotus and Fanzell had already received invitations to join the Magic Knights—recruited by none other than Conrad himself for the White Snake squad.
As for Dominante... she wasn't so lucky.
She had considered opening a private magic tool stand, but deep down, she knew it would be a lot of work with little fame or profit.
After all, even if she was a genius, why would anyone seek her out when they could simply go to one of the well-established, reputable magic tool shops? Stores that guaranteed function—so long as you could pay for it.
Her choices were limited.
She could either work for one of those stores, where she'd be treated as little more than a clerk... or try to make it big on the black market, which would put her and the others at risk.
And naturally, option two wasn't an option at all.
But Dominante wasn't keen on the first one either. She wasn't just some vendor—she was an artist, an inventor. She didn't want to sell other people's creations. She wanted to create.
That was why Sebastian's announcement caught her attention.
The way he spoke made it clear—this wasn't just a business. This new workshop was about development, about pushing boundaries, about crafting new magic tools.
And better yet, he was apparently the adoptive father—or father-in-law—of two of her sisters!
Reliable. Trustworthy. But most importantly... seemed rich. Stinking rich.
(If only she knew that 'seemed' was the keyword here—all thanks to her 'brother-in-law'.)
Unaware of her sister's adoptive family's current financial woes, Dominante briefly considered if she should be a little shameless and ask Dorothy or Vanessa to pass along a recommendation for her.
Judging by the way Fanzell perked up beside her, he was thinking the same thing.
Dominante smirked. She'd greet Dorothy once more—after the announcements were done.
—
As the applause settled, Sebastian smiled and nodded.
"Thank you. As for any official announcements, that should be it." His tone was lighter now, inviting. "Please, enjoy the rest of the night. Socialize, dance—if that's your fancy. For the young ones, we've set up some children's games across the hall. Feel free to ask a staff member for guidance."
A small pause. Then, a final note.
"Desserts will be available at the snack bar within the hour. And once again... thank you. Truly. For coming here and celebrating this joyous occasion with us."
The nobility blinked.
For once, Sebastian didn't sound like he was threatening them.
No, this time... he seemed sincere.
Some sighed in relief. Others cracked wry smiles. And most felt their grievances and frustrations for the night slip away as they toasted him again, letting out another soft round of applause.
—
As the music orchestrated by the small band turned into something resembling the nutcracker, many couples, and young hearts took to the ballroom floor waltzing away with their partners.
Dorothy kind of wanted to do so with Nozel, but she was still embarrassed with facing him since that kiss, and most importantly she didn't know how to waltz.
Making a fool of herself now, would ruin all the hard work, and sleepless nights she had put into before this ceremony, as she would expose herself as a fraud, who only knew the bare minimum of noble etiquette and skills.
Thankfully she had an excuse to avoid dancing, when Dominante walked up to her, and so Dorothy, Dominante, and Vanessa, the three witch sisters reunited through some weird strokes of fate, sat together chatting away about their shared past in their cage of a home, and more.
That left Nozel standing alone. Well he had Fuegoleon with him, but feeling the strange depressive aura radiating off his cousin, Nozel would much prefer if Fuegoleon was far away, he was killing his mood.
Still Nozel felt some pity, and gave a consoling pat on the back of his 'single dog' cousin. That only made Fuegoleon's shoulders slumped more.
The Vermillion heir scanned the crowd for any women his age, but they all seemed taken. Well he knew one of them was single, but Charlotte Roselei was a volcano waiting to erupt right now, no sane man would want any part of that.
Fuegoleon wondered if he would have no choice but to become Augutus' grand-nephew and marry Finesse Calmreich at this rate.
Honestly the king had seemed a bit bearable these days... maybe it wasn't as bad an option his parents were making it out to be...
Those were just Fuegoleon's thoughts, thoughts he kept to himself, while Nozel continued to pat his back.
—
Acier smiled down at her baby girl. "Alright, Noelle, let go of Daddy now. Mommy wants to dance with him, okay?"
Noelle, still nestled in Sebastian's arms, her chin resting on his shoulder, blinked her round pink eyes at her mother—then grinned.
Acier smiled back.
Her smile vanished as Noelle shook her head and nuzzled deeper into her father's neck.
Acier froze.
Sebastian sweatdropped, adjusting Noelle so they were eye level. He spoke softly, coaxingly, "Alright, sweetie. Daddy is very happy you want to stay with me, but Daddy also wants to dance with Mommy. What do you say?"
Noelle stuck out her tongue and shook her pudgy head. "Nwo Baboo!"
Sebastian's smile strained. "Noelle... Daddy has been very patient with you tonight—"
"Pttt." Noelle spat directly into his face, coating him in baby drool before grinning and shaking her head again.
Sebastian froze.
Acier, moving on autopilot, reached for her husband's handkerchief and wiped his face.
Then, the two parents turned to their daughter.
Before they could say anything, Noelle resolutely shook her head again. "Nwo Mama! Nwo Baboo! B-Baboo wand me!"
Sebastian and Acier blanked for a moment.
With a sigh, Sebastian pulled Noelle closer, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead before whispering in her ear, gentle and earnest, "Noelle, just for a little bit. Stay with your brother in the meantime, and Daddy will come right back. I promise. Please?"
Noelle pouted, whimpered—but nodded.
Sebastian exhaled in relief and walked over to Nozel, handing her off without a word.
Nozel smiled as he adjusted her in his arms, turning back to where he came from.
Noelle, now perched on her brother's hip, looked between him and her cousin. Her big eyes blinked at Fuegoleon's hunched figure.
She tapped Nozel's cheek and pointed. "Bwubba?"
Nozel arched a brow before sighing. "Fueggy is sad."
Fuegoleon, utterly dejected, didn't even react to the nickname.
Noelle furrowed her little brows in thought, then patted Nozel's arm. "Gwo Bwubba."
Nozel, still confused, obliged and stepped closer.
Without hesitation, Noelle reached out and plopped something onto Fuegoleon's head—the coronet. Her father's coronet. House Silva's illustrious coronet. The one she'd been nibbling on since the start of the ceremony.
Drenched in baby saliva.
Nozel stiffened.
Fuegoleon blanked, eyes slowly shifting toward Noelle.
Noelle patted his cheek, her expression one of pure, innocent consolation. "Nwo swad."
Feeling the saliva trickle into his hair, Fuegoleon nearly teared up.
Touched? Thankful? Not in the least.
A baby pitying him was the final insult.
Fuegoleon swore right then and there—he would prove himself. He would get a girlfriend.
—
Sebastian's right hand rested firmly on Acier's back, his left holding hers, while her free hand rested on his shoulder. Together, they swayed gently to the music, lost in each other.
Acier smiled, radiant. "This takes me back, Sebby. Back to our first dance. Right here, in this very hall."
Sebastian's lips curled into a soft smile. "Yes, it does. And you're even more stunning now."
A faint blush touched Acier's cheeks as they began to move.
Sebastian stepped forward with his left foot, Acier mirroring him by stepping back with her right. They shifted their weight smoothly, bringing their feet together before repeating the motion in perfect harmony.
Step after step, they flowed across the floor, their movements instinctive, effortless. Sebastian bent his knees slightly, lifting his arm high as Acier twirled beneath it, her dress fanning out before she spun back into his embrace.
They repeated the sequence, shifting in a circular pattern, perfectly in sync with the beat. A few guests glanced their way, drawn by the grace of their dance, but neither Sebastian nor Acier paid them any mind. Their focus remained solely on each other, their smiles growing with every step.
As the music slowed, so did they. Like the other couples on the floor, they eased into a slow dance, holding each other close.
Acier rested her cheek against Sebastian's chest, her eyes fluttering shut as they rocked gently. "I missed this..." she murmured. "I've missed you... I love you, Sebby."
Sebastian pressed a warm kiss to her forehead. "The feeling's mutual, Mrs. Silva."
Acier grinned, then her expression turned mischievous. She whispered, "Look behind you."
Sebastian raised a brow but humored her, spinning her around slightly so he could see.
A beautiful blonde woman with a cold expression swayed to the music, dancing with a brown-haired man whose polite smile never faltered.
Hilda and Jeeves.
Unlike the other servants, they attended the ceremony as guests—friends first, before anything else.
Alfred could have, too, but he insisted on overseeing the staff and ensuring the night unfolded smoothly.
Sebastian blinked before chuckling. "I didn't know they were like that."
Acier stifled a laugh. "Oh, they've always had a thing for each other. Hilda was just too cold to show it, and Jeeves too professional to engage in a 'scandalous work affair.' Looks like they've finally seen reason and stopped wasting their years."
Sebastian nodded. Hilda and Jeeves were as old as Florian and Auralia. They weren't getting any younger. If they truly wanted more out of life than just serving House Silva, now was the time to carve out something for themselves.
Perhaps even a family.
Sebastian smiled. "I'm happy for them."
Acier beamed. "Me too."
As the song ended and the next group prepared to take the floor, Sebastian and Acier shared a soft kiss before stepping aside, making space for the next wave of dancers.
—
Acier drifted off to join Amber, Aurelia, Amara, and the other noble ladies for some idle gossip, while Sebastian made his way toward Nozel.
He halted mid-step, blinking at the sight before him—his coronet lay on the ground, and Noelle, nestled in Nozel's arms, stared at it with wide, startled eyes.
Did she drop it...?
Nozel could've just bent down and had her pick it up.
Sebastian quickly dismissed the scene, chalking it up to Nozel refusing to get any closer to that saliva-drenched mess than absolutely necessary.
Seeing Noelle dazed but content in her brother's grasp, Sebastian let out a relieved sigh and turned to leave.
His relief was short-lived.
Midstep, he froze at the sound of a familiar voice.
"Baboo!"
Sebastian stiffened. His strained smile barely held as he turned back.
Noelle wriggled in Nozel's grasp, her pudgy arms stretching desperately in his direction, her brows furrowed in deep frustration.
"Bwad Baboo!"
Sebastian winced as he felt the weight of eyes on him. With a sigh, he stepped forward, plucking his daughter from her brother's hold with a whispered reassurance.
"Honey, Daddy wasn't breaking his promise. I was just heading to the washroom—"
Pttt.
A fresh spray of spit hit his face.
Sebastian exhaled slowly, shifting Noelle into one arm as he wiped his face with a handkerchief.
Nozel, visibly holding back laughter, looked seconds away from cracking. Sebastian silenced him with a sharp glare before turning on his heel and making his way toward the balcony.
As he stepped into the cool night air, he glanced down at Noelle, muttering in a half-exasperated, half-affectionate tone.
"Honestly... why are you so clingy with me today?"
Noelle didn't answer. She simply latched onto his cheek, gnawing on it absentmindedly.
The night breeze brushed against them, carrying the scent of the garden below. For a moment, father and daughter stood in companionable silence, gazing over the darkened Silva estate.
Then—
Thud. Thud. Thud.
Heavy footsteps echoed behind them.
Sebastian turned, raising a brow at the approaching figure.
"Your Holiness," he murmured.
Pope Benedictus smiled warmly, stepping forward with slow, careful movements, his frail form leaning on a cane.
The old pope parted his wrinkled lips, his voice rasping like wind over dry parchment.
"Look not with your eyes, see not with your ears. Allow mind and heart to come into one to peer through the truth. Logic and emotion need not contradict; they can exist on the same plane, unified.
Everyone possesses their own truths, their absolute truths, that none can manipulate, overturn, or deceive. Find yours."
Sebastian and Noelle blinked.
Without another word, the old pope turned and shuffled away, disappearing into the dimly lit halls as swiftly as he had arrived.
Sebastian exhaled sharply.
"...Fucking Yoda wannabe," he muttered under his breath.
Noelle, having no clue what that meant, nodded sagely, mimicking her father's expression.
Sebastian, too sour to care that he'd just exposed his daughter to profanity, rubbed his temple. He hated riddles.
Before he could turn back around, another set of footsteps approached—unhurried, deliberate.
Sebastian glanced over his shoulder.
"...Conrad?"
Conrad Leto smiled, his presence calm, composed. "I hope I'm not intruding on your private moment with your daughter. Mind if I join you?"
Sebastian furrowed his brows, then shrugged, turning his gaze back to the gardens below.
"Help yourself."
Conrad's smile deepened as he stepped forward.
—
Author's Notes:
[1] Poor Fuegoleon.
[2] As always, feel free to join the Discord: https://discord.gg/s3MME8X8ar