Chapter 679: A nightfall end

After Kagami’s commotion, the hall descended into chaos.

Whispers turned into murmurs.

Murmurs into heated speculation.

And before long, assumptions, half-truths, and outright rumors spread through the hall like wildfire.

Which was only natural.

The scale of the incident alone was unprecedented. A guest—no, a foreign prince—had been struck down in the middle of the Lumen Commerce Association Ball.

The assailant wasn’t some unknown thug either, but a highly favored S-class student of the academy.

And to make matters worse, the guards—boasted to be among the finest private security forces on the continent—had been completely unable to stop it in time.

For an event that prided itself on absolute safety, this was catastrophic.

Since its establishment, the Lumen Commerce Association Ball had never once suffered an incident of this magnitude.

Every guest was meticulously verified—either a titan of commerce, a powerful investor, or a carefully evaluated political asset.

Entry alone required layers of background checks, contracts, and magical scrutiny.

And yet—

Something like this had slipped through.

People began questioning the association itself.

If a royal guest could be nearly killed in the middle of the hall, what did that say about their security?

If someone like Kagami could unleash such power before being restrained, how safe were the other attendees?

And most importantly—what had truly happened between him and Prince Alain?

In the game, a similar scene did occur.

But it ended quickly.

Lucas would step forward, golden eyes burning with divine authority, and expose Prince Alain’s true identity on the spot—a demonic worshiper hiding behind royal blood.

The truth would unravel instantly, justifying Alain’s immediate arrest… or execution, depending on the player’s choice.

Order would be restored within minutes.

But this wasn’t the game.

Here, Kagami possessed no divine blessing capable of unveiling demonic corruption.

No sacred authority that forced truth into the open.

All he had were his instincts, his experience, and the faint but unmistakable stench of demonic mana that had driven him to act.

And without proof—

To the eyes of the world, he was merely a violent academy brute who had assaulted a royal guest in public.

That difference—small as it seemed—changed everything.

But…

It wouldn’t really matter.

Riley assessed the situation almost instantly, his thoughts moving far faster than the chaos unfolding around him.

The emergency healers present in the hall were nowhere near sufficient to deal with Alain’s injuries.

His face was practically pulverized—crushed beyond what ordinary restoration magic could mend.

At this point, Alain’s survival depended on only two options: immediate transport to the Church or the summoning of a high-ranking cleric.

Either way, it spelled the same outcome.

The moment divine power was applied, the truth would be exposed.

There were still undercover paladins roaming the academy grounds—agents of the Church placed precisely to detect this kind of corruption.

Once holy magic touched Alain’s body, the demonic taint festering within him would be revealed without fail.

And when that happened, execution on the spot would be the most likely conclusion.

From a legal standpoint, Kagami was safe.

At least… mostly.

That didn’t mean there would be no consequences.

Even if Alain was unmasked as a demonic worshiper, he was still a prince.

An attack on him—especially one this public—was technically an affront to the nation he represented.

Depending on how the royal family of Zelova chose to spin the incident, Kagami could become a political liability, a convenient scapegoat.

But with the Church inevitably involved?

Riley doubted Zelova would dare push the issue too far. No sane ruler willingly antagonized the Church over a condemned heretic.

All in all, the damage would be contained.

This wasn’t the scenario Riley had expected—far from it—but there was nothing he could do now to alter the flow of events.

If anything, Kagami had simply accelerated an outcome that was bound to happen sooner or later.

Still… it was a shame.

With Prince Alain eliminated, the chances of the demonic queen making a move dropped significantly.

Just like in the game, she was a cautious existence—paranoid even.

The loss of a subordinate, especially one as valuable as a royal vessel candidate, would only make her retreat further into the shadows.

In other words, a cockroach like Asmodeus.

She would investigate, of course.

But direct action? Unlikely.

Riley glanced toward Clara, where Lucas and Janica had just arrived, their expressions filled with confusion as they pressed her for answers.

For a brief moment, he considered approaching them.

…Then he shook his head.

Dealing with Lucas right now would only be a headache.

With that thought, Riley turned away from the growing cluster of attention and began scanning the crowd instead—his gaze searching for a familiar figure of silver hair and quiet dignity.

Snow should be around here somewhere.

…

After the commotion, the night of the ball continued as though nothing had happened.

Of course, fragments of conversation still floated through the grand hall—whispers layered with curiosity, speculation, and thinly veiled fear—but they were quickly buried beneath laughter, clinking glasses, and carefully rehearsed smiles.

In no time at all, the incident faded into the background, dismissed as an inconvenience rather than a warning.

Business came first.

Always prioritize profit…

Riley watched the crowd with a detached gaze.

This really is the world of gold.

With practiced efficiency, the event’s hosts stepped in—offering reassurances, redirecting attention, and smoothing over the unease with elegant words and expensive wine.

The Lumen Commerce Association Ball resumed, its atmosphere stitched together by half-hearted concern and fully artificial faces.

Riley soon found Snow and briefly explained what had happened.

As expected, she didn’t dwell on it.

With Riley’s calm assurance that the matter would resolve on it’s own, Snow simply nodded and moved on, her priorities lying elsewhere.

Their conversation shifted naturally—first to light remarks about his so-called “training,” then gradually to more pressing matters.

The north.

They discussed routes, timing, and conditions, eventually settling on a tentative date.

It was quiet, efficient, and strangely comforting—plans made not out of urgency, but trust.

As the orchestra transitioned into its final piece, the night began to wind down.

A warm, gentle melody filled the hall, soft and flowing, mirroring the pale moonlight spilling through the high windows.

Nobles and renowned merchants alike took to the floor with their chosen partners, each step measured, each smile hiding intent—every dance an unspoken negotiation.

It was, undeniably, a beautiful song.

Lucas and Janica didn’t let the moment pass.

Though Lucas appeared hesitant and somewhat oblivious, Janica forcefully dragged him onto the floor, her laughter bright as she guided his stiff movements.

The contrast between them drew more than a few amused glances.

On the second-floor balcony, Clara leaned quietly against the railing.

She watched the dancers below with a neutral expression, her eyes unfocused, her thoughts drifting far from the music and lights.

The world around her moved on, but her mind remained elsewhere—caught between unfamiliar warmth and a belief system that had quietly begun to crack.

Meanwhile, outside on a balcony of the grand mansion—

“Fufu… this is rather anticlimactic compared to how I imagined the night would end,” Snow said softly.

The cool night air carried her voice as she gazed at the stars.

“But it’s more personal, right?” Riley replied.

Snow nodded, her fingers tightening ever so slightly around his.

“Yes…”

Side by side, they stood beneath the open sky, watching the stars shimmer in silence.

No audience.

No bargains.

No masks.

As the final notes of the music echoed faintly from within, they swayed gently together—hands intertwined, hearts aligned.

In that quiet moment, away from gold and ambition, a silent vow bloomed between them.

…..

In the quiet corner of his private chambers, Duke Raymond Brilliance sat motionless.

The tall doors to the balcony stood wide open, allowing the cold night air to seep inside and granting an unobstructed view of the star-strewn sky beyond.

Moonlight spilled across the marble floor, painting long shadows that clung to the walls like silent witnesses.

Raymond’s face remained half-shrouded in darkness.

The once-brilliant dignity that had defined the Duke of Brilliance was gone.

His posture sagged, shoulders heavy, and the sharp handsomeness he had once carried with pride now bore the subtle but undeniable marks of age.

Dark golden eyes—eyes that once radiated authority and confidence—looked dulled, strained, exhausted beyond measure.

In his hand rested a half-drained bottle of wine.

Below his chair, scattered carelessly across the floor, lay several empty bottles of stronger liquor—clear proof that this was no momentary indulgence.

He had been drinking since morning. Perhaps longer.

Time had blurred into something indistinct.

Before him, atop a finely crafted table, were stacks of documents—petitions, financial reports, territorial disputes, correspondence that demanded the attention of a ruling duke.

Even here, far from his lands, responsibility had followed him relentlessly.

Yet Raymond only stared at them.

His mind was elsewhere.

“…Rose.”

The name escaped his lips as a whisper, barely louder than the wind slipping through the balcony doors.

At the sound of it, something shifted within him—a fragile resolve forming amid the fog of alcohol and grief. It had been several days now.

Days of silence.

Days of avoidance.

And deep down, he knew he could not continue like this.

With a dull clink, the bottle slipped from his fingers and rolled to the floor.

Raymond straightened slightly and looked down at the object clenched in his other hand.

A dark stone.

Its surface was unnaturally smooth, swallowing light rather than reflecting it.

As he stared, mana began to stir—thin tendrils of black smoke curling from the stone like living shadows, pulsing faintly with an ominous rhythm.

Raymond swallowed hard.

“…You can grant my wish, right?”

The stone pulsed once.

Then—

Blankness.

Absolute darkness swallowed him whole.

Though his body remained seated, his consciousness was torn away, plunged into a void so complete it erased all sense of direction, sound, and time.

Panic surged as his confused mind attempted to scream, but even his voice was stolen.

Then, from everywhere and nowhere at once—

[What is your wish?]

The voice whispered directly into his being.

It carried an eerie serenity, the kind people imagined when speaking of goddesses—soft, vast, and irresistible.

Yet beneath that divine cadence lurked something far worse.

Something ancient, oppressive, and unspeakably cruel.

Raymond’s breath hitched.

His hands trembled.

“I… wish—”

The words left his mouth quietly, shakily.

And within the endless darkness behind him, something smiled.

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