The atmosphere in the hall grew subtly charged. Nobles exchanged meaningful glances, their expressions eager with anticipation.
As tonight's undisputed protagonist, Linen's evening had been turbulent—turbulent in every sense of the word.
With his standout performance at Eden Academy, his story had long since become mandatory gossip at every tea party among the younger nobles in the capital.
And undoubtedly, the most enticing part of that gossip was this: between the proud, exalted genius princess from a friendly nation, and the gentle, attentive girl-next-door, who would first cross the boundary with this "reformed prodigal prince," sparking something beyond friendship?
Many had known Linen would attend tonight's banquet. While everyone debated whether he'd choose one or claim both, he had instead given a completely unexpected answer—
Kaya, the young lady of House Mistry—who didn't seem especially close to him—had been brought onto the floor, seemingly willingly.
Of course, most hadn't been convinced a royal prince's first dance—something carrying special significance—would be given to Miss Kaya. And indeed, expectations were swiftly proven correct.
After quietly stepping aside once her "task" was complete—with no fuss or struggle—Kaya somehow left an even deeper impression on many of the men, who sighed repeatedly about just how blessed His Highness truly was.
As for Linen's actual first dance partner, just when the crowd began guessing again—Elena or Hysteria—
Quinn descended from nowhere.
But considering the partner was the Silver Dragon Princess—whose personality could only be described as wicked, and for whom not causing an outrageous scene would itself be outrageous—it quickly stopped being surprising.
On the dance floor, Quinn observed the boy opposite her with playful eyes. Half-guiding, half-insisting, she took Linen's hand and placed it firmly on her waist.
At the edge of the floor, Elena quietly bit down on her lower lip.
With the "leads" now in place, the musicians—possessing excellent instincts—launched into a new set. In the flowing melody, the dancers scattered in perfect, unspoken coordination, forming a ring and intentionally or otherwise leaving the center clear for this particular pair.
"What exactly are you up to?" Linen sighed helplessly. One arm encircled Quinn's waist—a waist so slender there wasn't an ounce of excess.
Of everyone present—even counting Reinhardt and the Empress—the one Linen found hardest to read was Quinn herself.
Because you never knew what this drama-loving woman wanted. You never knew when she'd pull some massive stunt. You weren't even sure whether she was on your side…
And right now, Linen had the distinct impression he'd stepped right into her trap.
He'd skipped every single court etiquette class. His footwork was basically held together by Quinn's guidance, plus fading memories from when he'd cheated using notes scribbled on his thigh.
For Quinn, this dance was pure enjoyment.
For Linen, it was absolute torture.
"Is dancing with me that painful, little brother? Your face looks terrible," Quinn arched a brow.
"Not really."
"That's not what your face says."
"Because you stepped on my foot."
Linen inhaled sharply. Quinn might look tall and voluptuous, but she was actually very light—a single step shouldn't have hurt.
Except she was wearing a classic pair of open-toe, strappy stilettos tonight.
And they were enchanted.
"Hehe. Sorry. You seemed too tense, so I helped you relax." Quinn smiled sweetly. "Also, just so you know—big sister's a first-timer too. I'm not taking advantage of you, brat~"
"Don't phrase it like that!" Linen corrected, exasperated—then suddenly remembered something.
"Wait. That lie's ridiculously obvious. At the Dragonblood Festival three years ago, you already attended a ball. Your partner was that Caromon family heir, wasn't he? That fat pig bragged about it forever."
Quinn blinked. Her bright silver eyes seemed to sparkle.
"I'm touched you pay so much attention to your big sister," she said. "Though I also heard Caromon's stupid son got jumped three days after the ball—someone put a sack over his head, stripped him naked, and dumped him in a ditch. Case was never solved. Then someone got punished severely by Mother."
"Yeah," Linen replied lightly, looking away. "What a coincidence."
Quinn laughed.
"What if I told you… I never danced with that idiot at all?"
"How's that possible? Plenty of people saw. It couldn't have been fake—wait…"
Linen's voice trailed off. He stared into Quinn's silver eyes—eyes full of triumphant amusement—and fell silent.
Because he realized: if anyone else said this, it would be nonsense.
But the woman before him wasn't merely an Illusion Arcana master blessed by the Silver Dragon.
She was also a first-rate menace who lived for chaos.
"…Don't tell me you used illusion hypnosis on the entire ballroom," Linen squinted suspiciously, "and made Caromon believe he danced with you."
"Hehe. Who knows?" Quinn's smile widened. "But watching that young master gracefully embrace empty air, chatting like a gentleman—he must've enjoyed a wonderful dream."
"And your follow-up performance," she added, eyes curving, "was an unexpectedly delightful surprise."
Just picturing that young master "elegantly" interacting with thin air made Linen cringe so hard his toes nearly curled. Calling Quinn "fresh-born" would be too kind…
And come to think of it—Caromon's heir had always been a bloated, useless aristocratic wine-sack. Quinn never had any reason to choose him as a partner. If anything, he was universally disliked, which was why even Linen's ambush hadn't caused much trouble.
Wait.
Quinn deliberately picking Caromon's heir… had she been observing Linen's reaction from the start?!
Linen felt as though he'd stumbled upon a deeper truth.
With her mindset back then, she'd probably treated him like a toy. Perhaps when he later attacked Caromon, this woman had been laughing hysterically while helping cover his tracks using Arcana.
Damn it. He needed to collect some interest.
"Hmm?" Quinn's gaze sharpened slightly, dropping downward. "Little brother—your hand isn't very well-behaved."
At some point, Linen's right hand—originally obediently placed at Quinn's waist—had slid lower, landing on a certain rounded, supple area.
"I have to confirm my partner's real," Linen said solemnly. "Maybe I'm also dancing with empty air right now."
Quinn laughed. She didn't object.
Only after Linen had enjoyed himself enough did she smile and ask, "Confirmed?"
"I'll need five more minutes to be sure," Linen replied in complete seriousness.
Even Quinn's composure cracked. The corner of her mouth twitched slightly.
"You really have changed."
"Have I? I think this is the real me," Linen replied evenly. "If anything, I've never been able to clearly understand your goals, big sister."
He paused, then added coolly, "Weren't you here to talk business? It's about time."
"Fine, if you're that impatient," Quinn sighed helplessly. "But it's a lot of information. I'll share it through my new Arcana."
New Arcana?
Linen was still wondering exactly what new Arcana she meant when the dance music reached its climax. The surrounding couples spun, their flared skirts spreading like blooming flowers, briefly obscuring the dance floor from view.
Right then, Quinn reached out and gently drew him forward with a sweep of her arm.
When the high strings receded and the melody softened again, the central couple reappeared—
And the sight caused countless people to gasp.
Quinn was already a tall, voluptuous beauty with a mature, seductive aura. Tonight, for the ball, she'd even worn slender heels, amplifying her noble charm and allure.
And since Linen still hadn't fully grown, their height difference was even more pronounced.
So with that pull—
Linen's entire face was pressed straight into Quinn's soft, yielding chest.
A seductive fragrance, faintly cool, flooded his senses before he could react.
...
Far away, Hysteria had been pretending not to care, stealing occasional glances in their direction as she sipped fruit juice in tiny sips.
But the moment the dancers blocked her view, she focused openly, searching.
So Princess Hysteria was the first to witness their scandalous "position." Her mouth instantly formed a perfect O.
Whether from embarrassment at the bold scene or anger at being ignored, her little face flushed crimson—furious, flustered, and frantic all at once.
She shook Elena vigorously.
"Elena, look at those two—what are they even doing—Elena?!"
Elena stood blankly, staring straight into the dance floor without blinking—like a beautifully carved statue.
When Hysteria shook her, Elena stumbled backward into a chair. Her eyes became even emptier, as if she might faint at any moment.
"Elena, what's wrong?! Don't scare me, Elena!"
Compared to the helpless onlookers in the hall, someone else was even more blindsided.
Miss Teresia—whom Linen had entrusted with an "important mission"—was currently in Linen's dorm room. While he was away, she used the brooch's detection magic to observe the hall, happily snacking on the pastries she'd hoarded and planning exactly how to "shake him down" when he returned.
Although the detection magic was enchanted onto Linen's brooch, it actually had an adjustable viewing angle.
But as Linen danced with Quinn, most of its field of view became occupied by Quinn herself.
Perhaps because assassins and imperial hounds were natural enemies, Teresia didn't particularly want to see Quinn's face. So she'd deliberately tilted the viewpoint toward the ceiling, planning to slack off and enjoy pastries until their dance ended, then resume work.
Then Quinn blindsided her with a "direct hit."
Staring at the screen completely filled with creamy, pale softness, Teresia's eyes widened. She involuntarily recalled the last time they'd used the Recording Crystal to talk, and the ridiculous things this pair of siblings had said.
Plop!
Seeing the frosting on her pastry about to drip off, Teresia quickly opened her mouth to catch the melting cream, preventing history from repeating itself.
She licked her lips instinctively.
Somehow…
The pastry in her hand suddenly didn't taste so sweet...
...
"So this is your new magic?" Linen asked after they separated.
"Yes." Quinn narrowed her eyes with a smile. "Amazing, isn't it?"
"…"
Was that trigger condition an accident, or intentional?
Linen truly wanted to ask.
Initially, Quinn's move had genuinely startled him—he thought she was just taking advantage.
But then he felt something strange.
The instant his forehead touched Quinn's skin, images flooded his mind.
Shadow Knights scattered across the venue—some having already fought, now regrouped and vigilant.
The Red Dragon Legion, poised near the capital, fully prepared.
Northern warriors stationed in the mansion, armored, armed, but still holding position.
She was genuinely transmitting intelligence.
Just… through a uniquely provocative delivery method.
"It looks like you received what I sent," Quinn smiled. "But judging by your reaction, none of it was particularly surprising."
The music entered its gentle closing. They paced together with the rhythm, speaking softly.
"More or less," Linen replied calmly. "That old bastard Bor jumping out at that moment—either he suddenly developed a conscience to toss coins at the empire, or someone gave him instructions."
"But his patron, the Head of House Morris, was just taken care of by me. It's obvious something else is amiss. The Shadow Knights clashing with someone only confirms that."
"I see. No wonder you didn't try squeezing intelligence from Bor when he nearly collapsed—only taking his remaining half-fief. If you already have a plan, good."
Quinn's smile sharpened.
"Then let's guess: who in this room can still command a Head of House like that?"
"My dear sister, you might as well just say Reinhardt," Linen replied with a helpless laugh. But his tone swiftly turned serious.
"Unfortunately, whoever ordered Bor to throw away his life… probably wasn't Reinhardt."
"That's why the Shadow Knights must stay vigilant."
"As for the old lion…" Linen slowly inhaled. "Leave him to me."
"Oh~" Quinn narrowed her eyes, admiring the resolve in Linen's gaze, letting out a soft sound of approval.
...
Meanwhile, outside this seemingly harmonious scene—
A delicate hand pushed open the banquet hall door and stepped into the adjoining room where the Head of House Morris was resting. She slipped inside quietly.
From beginning to end, the Shadow Knights guarding the area behaved as if they hadn't noticed her at all—as though she wasn't even there.
---
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