Chapter 137: Chapter 137: Meeting the Groom

The soft chime of birdsong filtered through the open window as the golden light of early morning painted gentle streaks across the ceiling. Noel Thorne opened his eyes slowly. For a few seconds, he forgot where he was. The bed was too soft, the silence too complete. Then it clicked.

’Teralis… Right. The wedding.’

He sat up with a sigh, brushing a hand through his hair—and winced. His blond strands, longer than he preferred, fell past his nose and curled behind his ears. A few locks even brushed his shoulders now. He stood and walked over to the tall elven mirror in the corner, observing himself under the diffused morning glow.

’Too long. Definitely too long. I’m starting to look like a washed-up bard.’

He ran both hands through the mess and let out a resigned breath. Tomorrow was the wedding. Even if he didn’t care much for appearances, he couldn’t show up looking like he had just crawled out of a forest.

After a quick wash, he dressed in a dark, simple shirt and slim black trousers, tying a neutral-gray cloak over his shoulders. He slid Revenant Fang into the right side of his belt with habitual ease and clipped the dimensional pouch to the left.

Standing once more before the mirror, he glanced at himself briefly.

’Acceptable. Now let’s hope someone in this city is willing to cut hair without charging a noble’s ransom.’

Opening the wooden door of his room, Noel stepped into the hallway. The house, still quiet in the early hour, carried the faint scent of fresh flowers and baked bread, courtesy of the elven staff. Sunlight filtered through stained-glass windows in hues of gold and green. Every corner of the residence was tastefully decorated—sleek, elegant, and unmistakably elven.

He made his way toward the front doors without calling for anyone. He didn’t need company, nor did he want questions. The estate was already stirring with quiet preparation for tomorrow’s ceremony. Servants moved with graceful efficiency, barely making a sound as they passed. Noel ignored them.

Outside, the air was crisp and fresh. The great city of Teralis sprawled out beyond the residence gates—a blend of white stone, towering trees, and glistening bridges suspended between branches. Light glinted off distant golden spires, and carriages drawn by deer-like beasts moved along the upper pathways.

’Let’s find a damn barber before I change my mind.’

He adjusted the cloak slightly and began walking down the pale stone path into the city.

Noel had been walking for nearly an hour.

The streets of Teralis were beautiful, yes—but also frustrating. Smooth white stone roads wove around ancient tree trunks, with bridges and platforms linking the buildings nestled among the high branches. Every turn led to another curved stairway, another vine-wrapped column, another impossibly serene plaza filled with flowers.

But no barbers.

’Or they’re all booked. Or they’re closed. Or they just don’t like cutting human hair.’

He passed a shop with soft music playing from within—clearly a place for perfume. Another was full of robes embroidered with leaf motifs, and the next, a tea parlor. Not a single sign offered haircuts. When he finally found one, the elf inside smiled politely and told him the earliest opening was in four days.

Noel stared blankly at her, then turned around without a word.

’That’s it. I give up.’

He let his feet carry him without thinking. His gaze drifted upward, to the sky bridges and shimmering canopies, and down the quiet marble paths that wound around the roots of colossal trees.

Then something caught his attention.

Across a short bridge was a wide, circular building perched on an elevated clearing. Its walls were smooth ivory stone laced with silver and green glasswork, and the roof bloomed like a flower of crystal and gold. Several white banners fluttered in the breeze, each embroidered with delicate vines and the sigil of House Lestaria.

The Heartgrove Pavilion.

’Right. That’s the venue for the ceremony.’

He tilted his head slightly, watching a stream of servants carry cloth, floral arrangements, and crystal trays up the stone steps. There were elven attendants everywhere—twelve, maybe more—directing over twenty workers who were already arranging the seating and stage for tomorrow.

’Maybe I can take a look. Being Livia’s brother should count for something, right?’

He approached the entrance casually. No one stopped him. A few elves glanced in his direction, but seeing the sigil on his cloak—House Thorne—they gave a polite nod and went back to their tasks.

Inside, the space was vast and almost entirely open-air. The marble floor reflected the natural light, and arching pillars of silverwood supported the flowered dome above. In the center stood a circular altar, ringed with pale green crystal and golden runes. That was where the ceremony would take place.

Noel’s gaze wandered. The symmetry, the colors, the weightless elegance of it all—nothing like the rigid, cold grandeur of Thorne estates.

’Alright. I’ll admit it. It’s impressive.’

Then, from across the pavilion, a familiar presence turned toward him.

Elena von Lestaria.

She wore a long, sleeveless dress in a soft forest green, embroidered with silver vines that caught the light with every step. Her platinum hair was loose, a small braid tucked behind one ear, and at her neck gleamed the platinum necklace with the amber gem—his gift.

When her eyes met his, her lips curved into a bright, warm smile. Without hesitation, she walked straight toward him.

“Hello, Noel,” she said cheerfully.

“Hey, Elena,” he replied with a small nod. “How’ve you been?”

“Good,” she said. “What do you think of the decorations?”

He looked around, then shrugged. “Very natural? I don’t know. I’m not exactly an expert in weddings.”

“I see.” She laughed softly. Then, tilting her head, she stepped back slightly and spun once. “How do I look? This is the dress I’ll wear tomorrow for the ceremony.”

His eyes dropped for a moment to the necklace. “I see you’re wearing the pendant.”

“Of course,” she said, cheeks turning pink. “You picked it.”

There was a pause.

“But you didn’t answer the question,” she added quietly.

He blinked, then exhaled. “You look… very pretty.”

The blush deepened on her face. She glanced away for a second, then looked back at him with a softer smile. “Come. I’ll introduce you to my family.”

She reached out and gently took his wrist, guiding him toward the far side of the pavilion.

And he followed.

Noel followed Elena through the wide halls of the Heartgrove Pavilion, her green dress swaying with every step. She moved gracefully, though he noticed a slight hesitation in her gait—small, almost imperceptible stumbles. He quickly realized why.

’Still not used to heels, huh?’

Even with the added height from her shoes, she still didn’t reach his chin. He smirked to himself.

“What are you smiling at?” she asked, glancing over her shoulder.

“Nothing. Just… you’re shorter than I remembered.”

Elena puffed her cheeks slightly, eyes narrowing. “Maybe you’re just taller. Human males can grow until they’re twenty-one, you know, even if I’m an elf and live longer, I’m a woman so I stop early too.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Wow. Someone’s been reading again.”

“It’s called being informed, thank you very much.”

He snorted. “Sure, sure. Bookworm.”

’I mean she’s top one in writing, so it is normal but it is funny to tease her a little.’

She huffed but didn’t respond. The short teasing exchange ended as they approached a more private side of the pavilion, where the crowd of workers thinned out. Waiting near a railing that overlooked the inner garden was a tall man with neatly combed silver hair and a formal tunic in dark emerald and white.

Veyron von Lestaria.

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