The grand hall shimmered under countless crystal chandeliers, each flame reflecting off polished marble floors and gilded pillars. Velvet drapes swayed gently as the music of harps and flutes mingled with the hum of noble conversation.
Neo floated through the crowd like a living jewel, her gown a cascade of sapphire silk embroidered with silver threads that caught the light with every step.
Ark followed, tailored in black and gold, every inch the prince that everyone whispered about—the hero, the one whose presence made hearts skip, and whose eyes were for Neo alone.
Everywhere they went, whispers followed. Nobles craned their necks, trying to catch a glimpse of the couple whose chemistry seemed to spark heat in the cool air.
Hands brushed hands as they danced, each step precise, yet electric with tension. Neo's laugh rang out, musical and unrestrained, and Ark caught her waist with a possessive hand, fingers splayed, as if claiming the air around her as his.
Even from the edges of the ballroom, it was impossible not to notice: they moved together as if no one else existed.
Vesa and the guild watched, some smiling in amusement, others shaking their heads in awe. Every display of subtle intimacy—the tilt of her head, the way she leaned into him, the quick brush of lips against knuckles—made the entire room feel alive, like the music itself had begun to pulse faster.
And for the first time, Ark and Neo were untouchable: the eyes of the world were on them, yet they were lost to one another. The engagement had become not just a political event, but the first act in their private, undeniable story.