The carriage rattled softly along the moonlit road, the crest of Darava gleaming in silver on the door. Inside, perfection sat across from me.
My father, Lancel Darava, looked fine as wine—black suit, long cape, the kind of man who could command an army or ruin a life with a single look. Every inch of him screamed power and quiet threat.
My mother, Geisel Darava, was no less breathtaking. Her pastel-green hair framed her face like living silk, and her gown shimmered in black and deep green—matching Father, of course.
The two of them looked like sin dressed as royalty.
And then there's me.
In my black slutty suit embroidered with rubies. A scandal wrapped in silk.
Father's deep voice broke through the carriage's calm like a blade.
Lancel: "I hope you won't cause any problems this time."
I swear that voice could cut my throat if it wanted to.
Geisel: "Your son has been behaving rather well these days, my lord."
Lancel: "Has he? I did hear a commotion at the boutique."
Mother's lips curved into a smirk, the kind that could make kingdoms fall.
Geisel: "You'll know about that at the ball tonight, Lan."
Oh gods.
Lancel: "Oh, am I?"
Excuse me? Are they flirting? In front of their son!?
I cleared my throat dramatically.
"Ahem. Mother, Father—you can rest assured. It won't be our house that becomes a mess tonight."
Lancel turned those sharp eyes on me, his tone casual, his words deadly.
Lancel: "Whose family are you targeting, Yurio? Be careful who you mess with. We can't kill nobles without solid information."
Oh damn. He's so cool. Even his threats sound poetic.
I leaned back with a invisible grin.
"The night is young, my lord and my lady… and the moon needs to wake up."
The carriage rolled onward, moonlight glinting on the Darava crest—three dragons intertwined. And stopped infront of the crescent castle.
And for the first time in a while, I felt something stir in my chest.
Excitement.
Maybe for finally meeting all the characters from the novel .
Maybe it was the chaos to come.
Either way, tonight—the Moon Banquet—was going to be unforgettable.
———
Crescent Castle ( West building)
The royal ball was held in the West Building—a tower so tall it looked like one could touch the moon with bare hands.
Yet, no matter how close it seemed, the moon was still far away.
A dream. A beautiful lie people loved to believe.
The royal family's way of showing the world: We hold the unreachable.
The grand hall glittered with ember and pink decorations—ember for Fenris, pink for Eliza.
Typical.
Even their color choices screamed look at us.
Noble ladies and gentlemen whispered among themselves, their jeweled mouths busy comparing who gained the most power this year.
It's like a festival of vanity.
Or maybe an auction of egos.
Then the royal guard's booming voice echoed through the hall—
"Duke Darava and Lady Darava with their sole heir, Yurio Darava—"
Blah blah. I don't even remember the rest. My mind was elsewhere—
Scanning the room for them.
All the "important" characters of tonight's show.
Still not here?
Fine. Guess I'll make my entrance first.
As the three of us walked down the golden aisle, every noble house gasped.
The air shifted—our presence too heavy, too dangerous to ignore.
The Daravas had arrived.
Some young ladies covered their mouths, whispering things they clearly thought I couldn't hear. But thanks to pixie's gift I can hear them.
If I translated correctly, half of those comments were not appropriate for a sixteen-year-old.
Excuse me!
I'm sixteen, not your fantasy.
Mother was instantly surrounded by a swarm of old noblewomen fawning over her dress and jewels.
Father, of course, got claimed by the old men trying to toast him, even though he looked like he'd rather toast them.
And me?
Lonely.
The young ladies dared not approach, and the young men—
They stared.
But not in mockery.
Something else.
Their gazes slid down and up again, slow, deliberate—
Wait.
Wtf?!
Was he checking me out!?
Before I could even process that trauma, the guard's voice sliced through again—
"Duke Camazotz and Lady Camazotz, and their heir, Zinac Camazotz—!"
The crowd gasped louder than before.
What is this, an idol debut!?
And there they were—
Duke Jaqen Camazotz, practically Zinac's older copy. Black hair, red eyes. Sharp and cold as obsidian.
Beside him, Lady Amelia Camazotz—red hair flowing like molten fire, golden eyes gleaming with something that didn't belong to mortals.
I heard she's a witch.
I've always been a fan of witches.
Zinac spotted me the moment he stepped inside. His crimson eyes glimmered with that same smug, mocking smirk I wanted to erase with my fist.
Lady Camazotz—elegant as a curse—drifted toward my mother, almost rescuing her from the crowd of gossiping women.
Meanwhile, Duke Camazotz joined my father. No words exchanged—just a silent nod, a shared drink, and suddenly all the old men disappeared.
Power recognized power.
And Zinac?
Of course that damn bat had to slither his way toward me.
His smirk widened.
Like he already knew something I didn't.