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Chapter 109: Silver Engagement (5)

Chapter 109 - Silver Engagement (5)

Patience is a virtue, tolerance is key, swallow your grievances or an impulsive response will be the end of thee.... — Number 1 Riddler

—

As the third dance group prepared to take the floor, Aurelia found herself at a standstill.

She wanted to dance with her husband, Florian, but there was one problem—who would she leave Mimosa with?

Kirsch? Not an option. Her son was in the other room, playing or doing who knew what with the other children. And even if he was available... Mimosa would throw a fit if she was placed in her brother's arms.

Ignatius? Her brother-in-law was deep in conversation with Anslem and Augustus—not exactly the kind of company he could be casual with while keeping proper attention on Mimosa.

Mereoleona or Fuegoleon? God, no. Aurelia had seen how both of them handled Leo, holding him like some unbreakable toy. She wasn't about to leave her baby girl in either of their hands.

Her mother?

Her sister?

Amber?

Any of them would be fine, honestly, but...

Aurelia glanced across the room and spotted her other brother-in-law, Sebastian.

He was holding Noelle in one arm, effortlessly feeding her tiny bits of cake and other soft sweets and desserts.

Aurelia smirked and carried Mimosa toward him.

—

Sebastian gently wiped Noelle's mouth and cheeks with a napkin, smiling.

"Taste good?"

Noelle stretched her pudgy hands downward, reaching for a cupcake. "Agoo..."

Sebastian didn't let her, making her frown.

Stifling a laugh, he shook his head. "No, you really shouldn't be eating this stuff anyway. You've had more than enough for the night."

Noelle whimpered. "Baboo..."

Sebastian put his foot down. "Don't Baboo me."

Before she could throw a fit, he grabbed a banana slice and stuffed it into her mouth.

Noelle paused, eyes wide—then she started chewing, her expression lighting up.

Sebastian chuckled.

For babies, fruit was like dessert. Natural sugars were more than enough to satisfy most of them. Those banana slices might as well have been candy to Noelle.

And thus, crisis averted.

As she chewed and chewed, Sebastian reached into his pocket, pulling out his pocket watch.

How much longer do we have... hmm?

He paused, sensing a looming presence. Looking up, he found himself face-to-face with his sister-in-law, fixing him with a complex, heavy gaze.

Sebastian raised a brow. "Is something wrong, Aurelia?"

She bit her lip, not responding at first, her focus locked on the object in his hand. Then, in a whisper, "You still have that?"

What she meant was—why?

Sebastian froze for a beat, fingers tightening around the watch before he casually slipped it back into his pocket with a nod.

"Of course I do. It's a really good watch, after all."

Aurelia stiffened, then forced a smile. "You told me if I ever needed someone to babysit, you were available. Is that offer still on the table?"

Sebastian blinked, his gaze shifting to Mimosa, nestled in her mother's arms, staring up at him blankly.

"Yes... but will she be okay with that?"

Aurelia's smile softened as she craned her head toward her daughter, giggling. "Her brother aside, Mimosa isn't picky about who holds her. Isn't that right, Mimosa?"

Mimosa blinked—then, wordlessly, nodded.

Sebastian smirked, shifting Noelle into his right arm before holding out his left. "Alright then, hand her over."

Aurelia hesitated. "Can you manage with two?"

Sebastian shot her an unimpressed look. "You're asking that now?" His tone was dry.

Looking sheepish, Aurelia awkwardly placed her daughter into his left arm.

Sebastian adjusted his hold, balancing both Mimosa and Noelle against his hips.

Aurelia smiled, reaching out to gently ruffle Mimosa's hair. "Be nice to Uncle, alright?"

Mimosa nodded again, silent as ever.

Aurelia then leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to Noelle's forehead. "Be nice to your cousin, alright, sweetie?"

Noelle blinked her pink eyes in confusion, looking between Aurelia and Mimosa before nodding her round head. "Aga!"

Aurelia chuckled, spun on her heel, and walked off to find Florian.

And that left Sebastian alone with the two princesses in his arms.

Noelle and Mimosa stared at each other.

Pink and yellow irises locked.

Then, without hesitation, Noelle reached out, grabbed Mimosa's small index finger, and stuffed it into her mouth, sucking on it.

Sebastian blinked.

Mimosa frowned.

Then she reached out, grabbed Noelle's pudgy finger, and stuffed that into her own mouth.

Now Noelle frowned.

Both babies scrunched their brows, frowning heavily as they sucked on each other's fingers.

"..."

Sebastian was speechless for a moment before he let out a quiet sigh and plopped down into the nearest chair, securing both of them in his lap as they continued... whatever it was they were doing.

—

In the kids' room, children of all ages ran around, playing who-knew-what, chatting, and gnawing on treats.

Solid was dealing with something strange.

"Whoa, what is this?" A boy about his age, with aqua-blue hair and eyes nearly as pink as Noelle's, scanned the bandage-like wrap around Solid's arm, poking it like a rare artifact.

Solid yanked his arm back and shot him a pointed glare. "Be careful. This is where I've sealed my inner power. If you break it, the world is doomed."

The boy's eyes sparkled with delight. "Sealed? Inner power?! What does that mean? Tell me! Tell me! Tell me!"

He jumped up and down like a rabid fan demanding answers.

Solid snorted and averted his gaze. "Stop pestering me! I have no time for children like you. I have matters to attend to."

He waved the boy off, but the kid just pouted.

"Aww, but that sounds boring. Wouldn't it be more fun to play with me?"

Before Solid could respond, an ostentatious child with orange hair cut in.

Kirsch.

Waving a feather fan, Kirsch conjured a swirl of cherry blossoms that nearly made both Solid and the boy sneeze. Then, he smiled—beautifully, of course. Well, he would claim it was beautiful.

He pointed his fan at the aqua-haired boy. "Play? We nobles don't engage in something so barbaric. Don't you mean convene for joyous diversion by engaging in delightful fellowship?"

The boy blinked, his eyes spinning like a broken machine trying to process Kirsch's words.

Solid sighed and patted his shoulder. "Ignore Kirsch. He's a weirdo."

Kirsch stiffened before shooting Solid a wounded smile.

"Alas, how thy words do wound my spirit, dearest cousin! Yet, despair not, for with my heart as vast as the sea, I shall bestow upon thee my heartfelt forgiveness."

Solid blinked. It seemed Kirsch was in his poetic era.

He wanted no part of it.

Feeling a bit bad for the boy, he grabbed him by the arm and dragged him away, leaving Kirsch frozen in place like a statue.

The aqua-haired boy snapped back to focus and grinned.

"Thanks for the save, man. Let's be friends! My name's Rill. Rill Boismortier!"

Solid gave Rill a sidelong glance before sighing. Folding his arms behind his back, he stood tall—mighty, heroic. So much so that, for a moment, Rill's breath caught.

Then Solid bore into Rill's frame with his ocean-blue eyes.

"I have a solemn duty and mission to fulfill. I have no time for friends. Prove your worth, and I may consider taking you as my underling."

Rill blinked before grinning. Oh, I get it! We're playing some sort of story game! Gehehe, I'm so smart. Walter would be proud of me.

Scratching his head, he smiled sheepishly. "Well, without a brush, I can't do much, but..."

Solid watched in fascination as Rill's fingers became drenched in shifting colors and auras of mana that morphed into paint. Then, with effortless ease, he began drawing in the open air as if it were a canvas.

A childlike image took shape—something straight out of Dorothy's dream world—a rainbow-colored kitten.

The 2D drawing peeled itself from the air, morphing strangely into three dimensions, then landed at Solid's feet, purring.

"Meow!"

Solid blinked. The kitten suddenly melted into a splodge of paint, staining the floor, before disappearing into motes of light.

His eyes sparkled. He was just about to interrogate Rill when he caught himself. Readopting his composed, superior posture, he crossed his arms, doing his best to resemble his father and brother.

"Not bad. You're barely worthy as my lackey. What was that attribute you used just now?"

Rill wasn't offended. In fact, he beamed, giving a mock three-finger salute. "Painting Magic, bossman."

Solid smirked, smug and pleased at Rill's gesture. His nose might as well have elongated like Pinocchio's as he patted Rill's shoulder.

"Welcome to my inner circle, Rill. From now on, your codename is... Davinci!"

"Davinci?!" Rill didn't get it, but it sounded really cool, so he pumped his fists. "We get codenames?! What's yours, bossman?"

Solid scratched his chin, looking every bit the high and mighty leader.

"You may call me... Archimedes!"

Rill's eyes sparkled. "That sounds so—"

"Lame."

Both Solid and Rill stiffened at the voice that interrupted them. Turning to the source, they found another boy their age.

He had long brown hair that covered the left side of his face, wore a dark purple suit, and stood with arms crossed, fixing them with a cold stare.

"Psh." The boy smirked derisively. "Codenames? Inner circles? Secret missions? What are you, four?"

Solid blinked, then mumbled, "I am four."

The boy stiffened, his face reddening. He pointed to himself, flustered. "Well, I'm five! Much more grown-up and mature than losers like you two!"

Rill, entirely unbothered, raised his arm in a friendly wave. "I'm five too!"

The boy flushed even redder, realizing he was digging himself into a hole. He jabbed a finger at them. "W-whatever! M-macurity has nothing to do with age! I'm way more of an adult than both of you—combined!"

"It's maturity," Solid corrected patiently.

Rill nodded along, then patted the boy on the shoulder. "Hey, you seem pretty dumb, but it's alright. Dummies are funny. You don't have to be shy—you can join us."

The boy's face darkened. His hand shot out.

Twack!

He slapped Rill's arm away.

"Who would want to join lame-os like you?!"

Solid didn't look at the boy. He looked at Rill—who was forcing a smile as he rubbed the back of his hand.

Solid's expression darkened.

"Oi."

His low, menacing voice made the boy stiffen. Then Solid jabbed a finger at him.

"Who do you think you are, hitting my subordinate? Apologize."

The boy stepped back, grinding his teeth. "Make me."

A vein popped on Solid's forehead.

Slowly, he clutched his right arm—then raised it skyward. The bandage wrapped around it began to glow.

"Fine."

—

A Couple Moments Ago

Nebra wasn't having a good time.

She regretted leaving the ballroom. She should have stayed with Dorothy and Vanessa, but she'd followed Solid to the kids' room—to watch over him.

Also, because Auntie Amber had asked her for a favor.

She hadn't expected to get cornered like this.

Boys around her age surrounded her, their smiles greasy and predatory. Their hands reached toward her, fingers twitching with entitlement.

"Come on, Princess. Dance with me," a lean boy said, only to be shoved aside by a chubby one.

"Why would a princess dance with a mere baron's son? Naturally, Princess Nebra will dance with me—a viscount's—"

That boy was shoved aside by an even lankier one, who sneered. "You need to be at least a count's heir to be worthy of the princess's hand."

The lanky boy had the greasiest smile of them all. He dropped to one knee and extended a hand to Nebra.

"Now, Princess, come with me."

Nebra barely suppressed a shudder. She took a deep breath, forcing her voice to be both firm and soft.

"For the last time, I'm not interested in dancing. If I was, I'd be in the ballroom. Now, please, leave me be."

Unfortunately, the boy didn't take no for an answer. He stood, his hand snapping around her wrist, his smile darkening.

"Come now, Princess, don't be like that. The fourth and final dance is about to start—it would be a shame if you went the night without a single one."

He tugged her forward.

Nebra stiffened, yanking back.

The boy's father was furious with his sister for losing to a commoner in the battle for Prince Nozel's heart. He knew his sister had a grim fate awaiting her once they got home. If he didn't want to be implicated—if he wanted to soothe their father's anger just a little—he needed to show something. Anything.

A dance with the future duke's younger sister might be enough to spare them both from the belt and the stick.

As long as he got Nebra to play along.

But Nebra wasn't willing. Her voice dropped to a hiss.

"If you don't release me this instant, I will scream."

The boy's grip tightened, but his heart trembled.

If this moment was blown out of proportion—if it reached the wrong ears, or worse, his father's—he might as well start counting his final minutes.

He wanted to flee.

But he was desperate.

So, summoning what little courage he had, he stood his ground, his smile twisting.

"You wouldn't dare. Prince Nozel's ceremony would be ruined. Inhale your grievances and bear with me for one dance, alright, Princess?"

Nebra's brows curled in distaste.

"This is your final warning. Let me go, or I will scream. And don't use my brother against me—he cares far more for my well-being than his party."

The boy tensed.

Nebra stood firm, though her heart lurched.

Would he call her bluff?

She didn't want to ruin Nozel and Dorothy's special day. If push came to shove, she'd just suck it up and dance.

But she really, really didn't want to.

Both of them stood at an impasse, panic curling beneath their skin. Neither willing to back down. Both terrified the other was about to call their bluff.

That was until a third party broke the stalemate.

"Hey man, you dropped this."

Hmm?

The boy immediately let go of Nebra's wrist, spinning around. Nebra peeked over his shoulder in surprise.

Zora? Her eyes widened.

The boy squinted at the red-haired newcomer dressed in an expensive-looking purple suit, but no name came to mind.

Zora held out his hand, looking like he wanted to return something. No hostility, no trouble—just a simple gesture. Instinctively, the boy reached out.

Did I drop something—

A large black bug, striped with green, red, and yellow, landed in his palm.

A rainbow stink bug.

Before the boy could react, the bug fired a seven-colored cloud of foul odor directly into his nostrils.

His body seized. His eyes rolled back.

Then, frothing at the mouth, he collapsed to the floor in a twitching heap.

The stink bug flapped its tiny wings and buzzed away.

The other two noble boys—who had been harassing Nebra moments before—took one look at their fallen companion and promptly vanished.

Nebra stared blankly. Then, after a moment, she lightly prodded the unconscious boy with the tip of her heel.

"Is he... okay?" she mumbled, half-concerned.

Zora shoved his hands into his pockets. "He'll be fine. Just put to sleep for a bit."

Nebra blinked, then let out a wry smile. "Where'd you even get that?"

Zora met her gaze with a flat stare. "That's my secret."

Her smile widened. She inclined her head slightly. "Thanks for the save."

Zora shrugged. "No biggie. We're technically fellow students—" He trailed off, his eyes narrowing as he caught sight of Nebra absently rubbing her reddened wrist.

A cold light flickered in his gaze.

"Are you alright?" he half-growled.

Nebra stilled, following his line of sight. She forced a smile. "Just a little sting, that's all."

Before he could press further, she swiftly changed the subject.

"Anyway, what are you doing here?"

Zora clicked his tongue in distaste, running a hand through his hair. "My stupid old man told me to 'go out and make friends.' Seriously, do I look five to him?"

Nebra stifled a laugh. "Well, from what I've seen, you are quite the loner."

A faint flush crept up Zora's ears. "Shut up. You're just as friendless."

Nebra frowned, lifting a finger in protest. "That's not true. I have plenty of—"

She stopped.

Did she really have any friends?

Sure, she had playmates. Acquaintances she mingled with at noble gatherings and tea parties. But they were more interested in her Silva name than her. They used that angle to get close, but none of them—not one—could be called a real friend.

Her lips parted, but no words came.

Zora, practically reading her mind, had the same thought.

This is actually kind of sad.

Awkwardly clearing his throat, Zora coughed into his fist.

"Ahem. Anyway, what're you doing here?"

Nebra's lips curved into a soft smile, appreciating the topic change. "I'm here for—oh! There he is!"

Huh?

Following her gaze, Zora turned—only to spot a tiny red-suited figure toddling across the room, giggling.

Leopold Vermillion, utterly lost in his own little world.

Nebra chuckled. "His mother asked me to watch over him. I'm also here because of Solid."

Zora gave a nod, but his attention drifted as he watched Leopold wobble away, veering toward the exit.

Nebra frowned. "Leo? Where're you going?!"

"Bwack!" Leopold giggled, continuing his clumsy escape.

With a sigh, Nebra moved to chase him—but she barely got a step forward before the air exploded with mana.

A giant surge.

A flash of blue.

She spun on her heel, and across the room, Zora and the other guests snapped their heads in the same direction.

Gasps filled the space. Servants dropped their trays. Jaws went slack.

At the center of it all stood Solid, his right arm raised high. Hovering above his palm was a massive, swirling sphere of water—so large it nearly touched the ceiling—pulsating with ominous pressure.

Glowing magical sigils and runes snaked along his arm, radiating power.

Beside him, an aqua-haired boy pumped his fist, eyes shimmering like a star-struck fan. "Go, Archimedes, go!" he mumbled in awe.

In front of them, a brown-haired boy stood frozen, his entire body stiff.

Nebra nearly tore at her hair.

"SOLID?! WHAT ARE YOU ACTUALLY DOING?!" she shrieked.

Zora scratched his chin, eyes gleaming in interest. Drawing runes directly on his body?

Solid had already reached this level?

Damn. If I keep slacking off, he might actually surpass me...

Before Nebra could spiral further into panic, Zora let out a quiet chuckle. "I'll handle this..." he murmured, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a silver, fountain-tip magic pen.

He lifted it and began drawing runes in the air.

None of them noticed little Leopold still toddling away.

—

Inside the ballroom, those attuned to the flow of mana snapped their heads toward the children's room, sensing the sudden flare of power.

Before anyone could react, that overwhelming presence vanished—as abruptly as it had appeared.

Most nobles remained blissfully unaware, their conversations undisturbed. Meanwhile, Acier politely excused herself to investigate, though the slight twitch of her brow betrayed her irritation.

Sebastian's brow twitched as well—but for an entirely different reason.

Noelle and Mimosa clung to his legs, wobbling back and forth, their tiny hands gripping his trousers for dear life.

Noelle beamed up at him proudly. "Baboo!"

Sebastian forced a smile. "Congratulations, honey. You can stand." Using me as support. While some at your age are already taking their first steps. Honestly, nothing to be proud of.

Of course, he kept that thought to himself. Noelle was too busy grinning, and oddly enough, so was Mimosa—gazing up at him expectantly, as if she too was waiting for praise.

Sebastian sighed and patted her head.

Mimosa was nearly three months older than Noelle, so you'd think she'd be ahead—but apparently, she had earned her reputation as a slow, clumsy child.

There really wasn't much difference between them.

Still, since Mimosa looked so pleased with herself, Sebastian chose not to ruin her moment.

Eventually, the two grew tired of standing and, with his help, clambered back into his lap.

Sebastian sighed, pinching their cheeks lightly.

Shame they're not newborns anymore. The baby fat had faded a bit—less soft, less squishy. Not nearly as satisfying as it could be.

But still, it brought him a mild sense of peace.

For a while, he simply sat there, watching the ballroom's idle chatter.

Then he raised a brow, glancing down at his feet.

"...Can I help you, Leo?"

Leopold stared up at him blankly, hands in his mouth, saying nothing.

Sebastian blinked. Huh?

He softened his tone. "Why're you alone? Are you looking for your brothe—"

Before he could finish, Leopold's face lit up with a mischievous grin.

And then, without warning, he latched onto Sebastian's leg—climbing like a determined little monkey.

—

Charlotte bit her lip as she searched for Luck, her frustration mounting with every empty room.

She hadn't expected much when she passed by the children's room, but finding no sign of him was still disheartening.

According to the servants and guests, no one had seen him pass through.

She checked every possible place within their allowed roaming grounds—the garderobes, the terraces, the halls.

Still, no Luck.

Had he... run away? For real?

Or worse—had he wandered somewhere forbidden?

What do I do? What do I do?

Would she have to turn to Father for help?

The thought made her stomach twist.

But a four-year-old alone at night? It wasn't safe.

Just as she resolved to head back toward the ballroom, she froze.

Something caught her eye.

Charlotte lifted her head.

How'd he get up there?

Bathed in moonlight, Luck sat perched on one of the slanted rooftops overlooking the garden, legs and arms stretched out carelessly.

Without hesitation, Charlotte kicked off her high heels, baring her feet against the cool stone.

Mana surged to her soles.

And then—she jumped.

Landing gracefully behind him, she barely made a sound.

Luck tensed for a moment.

A silence settled between them.

Charlotte shifted awkwardly, rubbing her arm as she stared at his small back, waiting for him to turn.

He didn't.

She chewed her lip. Then, softly, "What are you doing out here?"

No answer at first.

Then, finally—Luck spoke.

"M-Moon gazing!"

Don't you mean star gazing?

The crack in his voice was subtle. Almost imperceptible.

But Charlotte, hanging onto every syllable, heard it clear as day.

She winced slightly. "Luck... can you turn around and face me?"

He didn't.

After a pause, Charlotte stepped forward and plopped down beside him, casual as can be.

Luck stiffened.

She reached out—slowly, gently—and took hold of his chin.

Turned his face toward her.

And what she saw made her heart crack in self-loathing.

He was smiling.

That same unchanging smile, the one that never faltered, no matter the moment. Almost unnerving in its constancy.

But his eyes—just faintly red at the edges—told another story.

He'd been crying.

Or at least... about to.

Charlotte bit down on her lip, head inclined. "I-I'm s-sorry, Luck. I didn't mean to call you t-that. W-what I mean to say... what I said was wrong. And you're not a... you know what..."

Luck's smile stretched wider. "It's fine, Sis!"

Charlotte gritted her teeth. Her voice came out sharp. "It's not fine."

Luck tensed. His shoulders drew up, his body bracing—like he expected a slap, a shove, something.

Charlotte's stomach churned. Her already foul mood soured tenfold.

Her fists clenched, nails digging into her palms. Then she exhaled slowly and forced herself to look at him—really look.

And then, gently, she cupped his cheeks.

Luck's breath hitched. He went rigid.

"Sis...?"

Charlotte inhaled deeply, then let out a soft sigh. Her voice dropped to a whisper. "Knowing you... you probably don't even know what being an heir means. After all, you were a commoner just a few days ago."

Luck blinked.

Charlotte continued, voice steady. "So you probably have no clue what you took from me. No clue why I was so angry with you. You probably don't even understand why your mom and I are so distant."

Luck blinked again, confusion flickering in his eyes as Charlotte absently rubbed his cheeks.

"I get it," she murmured. "You don't know why people glare at you, why they call you that word. You might not even understand what it means—just that it's something bad."

Luck's eyes cleared, just slightly.

Charlotte let out a quiet, self-deprecating chuckle. "I don't like your mom. And I probably never will. She's part of the reason mine is so sad..."

Luck flinched, shifting like he wanted to pull away.

But Charlotte held him there.

"That being said," she continued, voice softer, "I know all you wanted coming into House Roselei was a father. A family. And for some reason... you want me to be part of that."

Luck stiffened again.

Charlotte gave him a small, broken smile. "I can't ever get along with your mother, not beyond tolerance. I doubt I'll ever forgive our father. So... your dream of a big, happy family? It's impossible. If that was your dream..."

She trailed off.

Then—

"...But."

Her gaze steadied.

Her voice firm.

"If you're willing to give me another chance... I'd like to be your big sister."

Luck's pupils dilated. "R-really?"

Charlotte smiled awkwardly, nodding. "Y-yeah. Really."

Luck scrunched his eyebrows. "W-why?" Why the sudden change?

Charlotte's gaze turned distant for a moment before she refocused. "...I always wanted another sibling. And even if this isn't how I ever imagined getting one..."

She studied him. The same hair. The same eyes.

"We have the same father. And that makes us family. That's what matters."

Luck paused. His eyes reddened further—then, meekly, he nodded. "O-okay, Sis. L-let's do it."

Charlotte smiled. For once, she didn't mind hearing him call her that.

For once, she found Luck... cute.

The two of them turned back to the night sky.

Stars glittered, surrounding the moon with a soft glow. The stillness filled them with a quiet calm.

Eventually, Charlotte broke the silence. "...Do you like moon gazing?"

Luck nodded heavily, still staring upward. "Me and Mom do it all the time."

Charlotte hummed absently.

Luck hesitated—then asked his own question. "W-what do you like to do, Sis?"

Charlotte blinked, lost in thought.

Then, truthfully, "Relaxing in my garden."

Luck turned to her, about to say something, but—

"Care to join me sometime?" she asked.

Luck froze.

His gaze flicked to her face. He took in her sincerity, the quiet openness in her expression.

She meant it.

His lips curled into a bright, beaming smile. "Okay, Sis!"

Charlotte's features softened.

That's good.

That's really good.

They sat together on the rooftop, wordless but warm. The night air was cool, but their presence—their newfound understanding—brought warmth to the breeze.

—

"M-Mom, I-I'm sorry..." Solid winced in pain, comedic tears prickling in his eyes as Acier dragged him away by his ear.

Nebra, Zora, Kirsch, Rill, and the brown-haired boy from before all followed them.

Acier snorted. "Don't 'I'm sorry' me, young man. Your father explicitly warned you about drawing runes on your body. We talked about this! We had an agreement! And then you went ahead and did it anyway! In secret, without consulting any of us!"

Solid whimpered. "B-But I f-figured out how to balance the array! It would only drain my mana, that's it! No physical harm!"

Acier's face darkened. "Even if that's true, what exactly were you planning on doing? Kill this poor boy?" She cocked her chin toward the brown-haired boy.

The boy froze, then clenched his fist and snorted indignantly. "H-He wouldn't be able to! I'd reflect his attack right back at him!"

Gauche Adlai was speaking nonsense. Without a grimoire, he couldn't possibly do such a thing, and Acier was about to point that out—except Gauche had already stormed past them, disappearing down the hall.

Solid didn't care. He muttered softly, "I just wanted to teach him a lesson for hurting Rill."

Rill looked touched, while Kirsch dramatically flicked his hair.

"How uncouth and savage of thee, dear cousin! Indeed, how most uncouth and savage!"

Everyone ignored Kirsch as Acier smiled unfriendly and twisted Solid's ear further, making him cry out.

"Mama, I'm sorry! R-Really sorry!"

Acier wasn't fooled by the crocodile tears. She sneered. "If it weren't for Zora stopping you, we might have been dealing with a murder. At your brother's ceremony, no less."

Without another word, she dragged Solid back toward the ballroom, grumbling, "Just wait, let's see what your father has to say—"

Acier froze.

So did Solid, Kirsch, Nebra, and Zora as they entered the hall.

Because what they walked into was a scene.

Many guests were gathered, whispering among themselves, all focused in one direction.

Acier immediately spotted Yami in a corner, losing it, nearly laughing his ass off as Morgen and Nacht struggled to restrain him.

It wasn't just him—Nozel, Dorothy, Mereoleona, Vanessa, and many more looked on the verge of breaking down, barely holding back howls of laughter.

Amber, Aurelia, Florian, Amara, Ignatius—even the depressed Fuegoleon—seemed to be cracking up.

Acier let go of Solid's ear and stepped forward. The crowd parted for her, revealing the sight at the center of it all.

There, her husband sat.

Looking absolutely done with life.

His face was blank, his eyes twitching as Noelle and Mimosa pulled at his cheeks, while Leopold hung from his neck—gnawing at his head like it was some hard fruit.

Like a melon.

Or a coconut.

Acier looked at Sebastian.

Sebastian looked at Acier.

Then, calmly, Acier called a name.

"Nebra."

"Got it!"

Without needing further instructions, Nebra stepped forward, holding an ellipsoid-shaped device—a magic tool, the camera.

Following her father's earlier tutorial, she switched it to video mode and started recording the comedic scene.

Acier nodded in satisfaction. Sebastian, however, looked at her darkly.

Acier chuckled and stepped forward, planting a soft kiss on his head. "Aw, don't be like that, Sebby. They're babies."

Sebastian's expression darkened further. "I wouldn't tolerate this if they weren't... and that's not what I'm angry about," he hissed.

He didn't appreciate being made a spectacle of—especially by his own wife.

Acier understood immediately. She simply didn't care.

Instead, she turned, scanning the hall for the Vermillions and the Silvas.

"Alright, all of you—gather around!"

The nobles exchanged confused looks until Acier clarified, "Time for a family portrait!"

Sebastian mumbled under his breath, "The correct word is family photo."

Acier elbowed him, whispering, "Barely anyone knows what that means."

Sebastian said nothing as Ignatius, Amber, Mereoleona, Fuegoleon, Florian, Aurelia, Nozel, Dorothy, Vanessa, Kirsch, and Solid all joined in—with an array of expressions.

Still, no one took Noelle, Mimosa, or Leopold off his hands.

Meanwhile, Nebra quickly showed Zora how to use the camera. He begrudgingly nodded and agreed to help before she stepped forward and joined the group.

As they got into position, Acier elbowed her husband again. "Come on, Sebby, smile."

Sebastian's eyes flickered with irritation before he exhaled, inhaled, and forced out a smile.

It didn't last long.

Not with Noelle and Mimosa pulling his cheeks in opposite directions.

Acier didn't seem to care. She held up three fingers. "Alright, everyone, say Silvamillion on three!"

A good portion of the nobility stiffened.

They didn't get the chance to interject before Acier started counting down.

"Three..."

"Two..."

"And one..."

"SILVAMILLION!" They roared—some with enthusiasm, others completely out of sync.

Of course, the babies had their own contributions.