Chapter 159: I hope you look beautiful…

The door slammed shut with a firm click, its sound echoing through the room as if it had its own weight.

Aria was the first to breathe—a long, exaggerated, dramatic sigh that seemed to expel an entire theater of pent-up tension.

“There,” she said, throwing herself back onto the sofa with her arms outstretched. “The man is going to face assassin nobles, paranoid mages, and the Duke’s personal guard, and yet he manages to leave two women trembling without even touching them.”

She turned her face slowly.

“Two women… who aren’t trembling for the reason I’d like them to.”

Ester closed her eyes for a moment.

Just a moment.

When she opened them, her composure was back, polished like cold steel.

“Stop dramatizing,” she replied dryly, going to the table to pick up two pins she’d forgotten. “He doesn’t leave anyone ’trembling.’ You’re the one who likes to exaggerate everything.”

“Oh, darling…” Aria spun on the sofa, resting her chin on her hand with a feline grin. “You almost swallowed your tongue when he said ’I’ll be back.’”

Ester slammed the closet door harder than she intended.

“It was just…” she took a deep breath, “…a comment.”

“Of course,” Aria smiled, a smile that knew exactly where to poke. “And when he asked if you were worried? Ouch. The heat on your face could have set the whole room on fire.”

Ester turned slowly, very slowly, with that look that craved absolute silence.

“Aria.” Her voice was too calm. “I’ll repeat it just once. If you continue, I’ll…”

Aria waved her hand before even hearing the rest.

“’Make-me-swallow-my-tongue,’ I know, I know.” She laughed, chewing on her own humor. “But let’s be honest… you are worried.”

Ester pressed her lips together. She tried to answer.

She tried to construct an elegant sentence. Distant. Rational.

But nothing came out.

Because Aria had hit the nail on the head.

Aria took a deep breath, and for a rare moment her mischievous smile softened.

“Hey… I’ll stay too.” She glanced at the door. “That idiot has a special talent for getting himself into trouble no one should get into.”

Ester lowered her shoulders slightly, her rigid posture yielding precious millimeters.

“He always comes back,” she said, but her voice lacked the certainty it should have.

“Yeah,” Aria nodded. “Usually with blood that isn’t his and problems that didn’t exist before he showed up.”

“That doesn’t help,” Ester retorted dryly.

Aria laughed again.

“You know what would help?”

“Don’t you dare,” Ester raised her hand, warning.

“A kiss before he leaves.”

Ester closed her eyes.

“Aria…”

“He was there, handsome, well-dressed, smelling good, with that ’I know exactly the effect I have on you two’ look… and you let him go with just a ’come back’.”

“It was appropriate,” Ester retorted firmly. “—Appropriate. Professional.”

Aria laughed.

“Professional… My God, did you really try to use that word with him? With that man? With that mouth?”

Ester blushed. Really blushed. A rosy hue rose up her cheeks, betraying everything she was trying to hide.

“The conversation isn’t about… his mouth,” she said through gritted teeth.

“No?” Aria tilted her head. “—Because it really seems like it is.”

Ester squeezed her eyes shut, as if that could erase the embarrassment.

But Aria wasn’t finished yet.

“You know what’s worse?” She crossed her arms and pouted. “He also looks at you in a way that I HATE.”

Ester blinked, surprised.

“What are you talking about?”

Aria huffed, puffing out her cheeks like a spoiled child.

“That look.” She pointed to the floor, then to the door. “That calm, patient, and irritatingly warm look he gives you when you try to act like nothing affects you. I saw it today. Several times.”

Ester looked away.

Aria grinned like a cat.

“Aha. I confessed for you then.”

“There’s nothing to confess,” Ester replied, regaining some of her composure. “Demon is… complex. Undisciplined. Unpredictable. A walking disaster. He’s not someone to…”

She stopped before finishing the sentence.

Aria finished for her:

“…for you to get involved with?”

Ester swallowed hard.

Aria stood up, walked over to her, and placed her finger on her forehead.

“So why did your heart almost leap out of your chest when he looked at you last night, when you thought he was going to leave without telling you?”

Ester pushed her finger away.

“Don’t make things up.”

“I’m not making things up,” Aria retorted. “You’re too transparent when you try to be invisible.”

Ester turned her back, walking to the bookshelf just to have something to do with her hands.

“He’ll be back,” she said, and for the first time her voice sounded… small. “He always comes back.”

Aria smiled with more tenderness than provocation this time.

“Yeah.” She stretched her legs on the sofa. “But that doesn’t mean it’s not scary.”

Ester rested her hand on the bookshelf, lowering her head for a second.

A sigh escaped her—short, restrained, involuntary.

And for that instant, Aria saw her as she rarely saw her:

Esther without armor.

Without composure.

Without perfect phrases.

Just… Esther.

In silence, carrying a feeling she tried to hide even from herself.

Aria smiled softly.

“You know…” she said slowly, “…when he comes back, you can say something more than ’don’t make a fuss’.”

Esther took a deep breath, gathering her composure as if it were a cloak.

She turned, posture erect, expression neutral.

“When he comes back,” she stated firmly, “I’ll say exactly what needs to be said.”

Aria raised her eyebrows.

“And what would that be?”

Esther hesitated.

Just a second.

Then she said:

“It didn’t take long.”

Aria burst into laughter.

“My God, you’re impossible.”

Ester crossed her arms, serious, trying to hide her persistent blush.

“And you talk too much.”

Aria winked, feline-like.

“But you need to listen.”

And for the first time since Demon left…

Ester didn’t disagree.

She just remained silent.

A less sharp silence.

Less defensive.

A silence that had only one meaning:

She was waiting for him.

…

The main hall of Arven Manor gleamed as if polished with liquid gold. Magical chandeliers floated overhead, casting a warm light that made everything—and everyone—more elegant than they actually were. The soft music of bards filled the air, mingled with polite conversation, forced giggles, and the clinking of crystal goblets.

Demon arrived from the back, as instructed.

He passed the first check—a pair of heavily armored guards with stern expressions.

“Name?” one of them asked.

“Damon Gray. Academy Assistance.” He handed over the official seal.

The guard studied the paper for a moment before nodding.

“You may proceed.”

The second check, more elaborate, involved a magical detection circle that glowed intensely as Demon passed.

Too intensely.

The mage in charge narrowed his eyes.

“Hm. Quite a lot of… energy. Unusual for a student.” Demon tilted his head.

“Intense training.”

The mage hesitated… but released him.

He crossed the marble arch and officially entered the main hall.

And that’s where the trouble began.

The music continued. The conversations too.

But they changed.

They changed because almost every woman in the hall—young ladies, noble housewives, even some guards—stopped what they were doing… and looked.

Directly at him.

At first with curiosity.

Then with surprise.

And finally… with that specific glint.

That predatory, enchanting glint that made the most insecure men in the kingdom hide behind pillars.

Demon took only three steps before realizing it.

Ester exaggerated.

Not that the suit was wrong—on the contrary, it was impeccable. His lapel was fitted, his shoulders perfectly aligned, the dark tie creating an impeccable contrast with his gaze. His hair was styled in a way that accentuated the sharp features of his face. He seemed less like an Academy student and more…

A mysterious nobleman.

A silent general.

A predator dressed in finery.

The women whispered behind fans. Some didn’t even try to disguise it.

“Who is he?”

“I’ve never seen this student before…”

“He looks like a foreign lord.”

“His eyes… did you see his eyes?”

“My God… is he looking this way?”

A group of young female knights almost dropped a waiter’s tray just to follow him with their eyes.

Demon maintained a neutral expression, but inside… he sighed.

If Esther were there, he would have looked directly at her and said:

“This is your fault.”

He moved through the hall with calm steps, as if he had complete control of the environment—and he did. But it only got worse. The more self-assured he seemed, the more the entire hall seemed to open up around him like a stage prepared just for him.

An older lady stopped him for a moment.

“Young man, are you from the Gray family?” she asked with a gentle smile, but clearly interested. “Your bearing is extraordinary.”

“No,” Demon replied politely. “I’m just a knight in training. I’m not a nobleman.”

“’Just,’ he says…” murmured one of the ladies behind her, fanning herself vigorously.

He continued on, but even the most discreet women followed him with their eyes.

Some whispered.

Others sighed.

One even tripped on her own dress.

’Esther didn’t have a suit fitted,’ he thought with quiet irritation. “She turned me into a… lure.”

He discreetly pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to ignore the hungry stares around him.

And then, as if fate wanted to worsen the situation…

He passed by the side entrance, where a new wave of guests was arriving.

Among them…

Morgana Arven.

In a dark, elegant dress, with metallic details that reflected the light from the chandeliers. Her hair impeccably styled. Her noble bearing sharp as a blade.

She entered. There were people around her.

But she saw no one.

Her eyes met Demon’s immediately.

And froze.

Not with anger.

Not with bewilderment.

But with an almost… visceral recognition.

He noticed. Of course he noticed.

Her gaze swept over his suit, the impeccable cut, the drape, the tie.

And his face.

And for a microsecond that no other mortal would have perceived, Morgana lost her breath.

She stood still.

As if struck by an invisible punch.

Demon discreetly inclined his head toward her.

Morgana turned her face away instantly, too abruptly, too quickly—as if looking longer would be dangerous.

Her heart pounded.

And Demon knew it.

He didn’t smile.

But the corner of his mouth… almost moved.

He walked toward the side corridor, as if merely fulfilling his duty.

But he exchanged one last glance as he passed her a few meters away.

Calm.

Controlled.

Silently possessive.

“I hope you look beautiful…”

Those words echoed in Morgana’s mind.

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