"Hmm..."
Gloria leaned a little closer to Gray as they stood in the corner.
"You know," she said calmly, eyes scanning the room, "events like this are always the same. Too many smiles, too many lies, and far too many people pretending to like each other."
Gray gave a quiet hum, his gaze drifting across the nobles.
"Makes sense. Everyone here looks like they're afraid of saying the wrong thing."
She let out a soft laugh.
"That fear is what keeps this place standing. One wrong word can ruin a family, a single wrong move can cost a head."
Gray simply nodded at her words.
As a Fallen Noble, he knew exactly how the nobility functioned.
And to him, the nobility was nothing more than a battlefield without blood on the floor.
Every smile here hid a blade. Every toast was a test. Families didn't compete to rise; they competed to survive.
