Chapter 50: The Banquet

Chapter 50: The BanquetAfter Selene had stormed out earlier that morning, Lucas hadn’t bothered with much else. His body still felt heavy, worn from all the cultivation and the recent emotional friction. He let himself fall back into bed, and within minutes, sleep took him again, deep, undisturbed, and dreamless.

Hours passed quietly.

Later in the day, soft footsteps approached his door.

Lira peeked into the room and found him still fast asleep, lying peacefully, his face half-buried in the pillow. The light from the afternoon sun slipped through the drapes, casting golden stripes over his bare back and tousled hair. She smiled faintly.

She didn’t dare wake him. Instead, she got to work silently, sweeping the room, folding his discarded tunic, and carefully rearranging a few scrolls and cultivation materials he’d left on the table. The place needed a woman’s touch, and she was happy to provide it.

She stayed long enough to make sure everything was in order, then quietly stepped out, pulling the door to a soft close behind her.

It was close to evening when Lucas finally stirred.

His eyelids fluttered open slowly, and for a moment, he forgot what day it was. But then the cool breeze through the slightly cracked window brushed against his face, and the memory returned.

The birthday banquet.

He groaned lightly, dragging himself upright. His back cracked as he stretched his limbs.

Moments later, Lira returned.



"Good evening, Master," she said with a warm smile, holding a basin of water. "Shall I help you prepare?"

Lucas nodded, rubbing his neck. "Yeah... I could use it."

She helped him bathe, gently washing his back, rinsing his arms. The familiarity between them had grown, yet there was still a softness in the way Lira cared for him. A kind of quiet devotion.

After drying off, Lucas gave her a gentle nod. "Go dress up, Lira. I want you to look perfect tonight."

Her eyes lit up. "Yes, Master," she said quickly, blushing slightly before she turned to leave.

Once she was gone, Lucas turned to his clothes. They were neatly laid out on the bed: the fine blue garments they’d bought at the stalls, embroidered robes made of light silk, detailed at the sleeves and collar with silver threadwork. A matching sash and high-collared inner layer completed the regal look.

But putting them on was another story.

Lucas stood in front of the mirror, shirt half-open, brow furrowed. The folds didn’t sit quite right. The sash wouldn’t tie the way it should. He cursed under his breath.

"Why are the clothes in this era so damn complicated?" he muttered, twisting the fabric and retying it again. This was his third attempt, and it still looked wrong.

Eventually, with enough trial and error, and vague memories of how Xavier once wore something similar, he managed to get it right. He pulled the sash tight and let the robe fall neatly over his shoulders.

He reached for a wooden container, flipped it open, and scooped a bit of fragrant ointment onto his fingers. He applied it to his hair, combing it back with his fingers. It added a polished finish, taming his thick black strands until they lay smooth, falling to just beneath his ears.

He looked into the mirror once again, this time more carefully.

Xavier’s face stared back at him.

Strong jawline. Deep-set, intelligent eyes. High cheekbones and a proud nose. A face that had once been lost in the shadows of other noble sons... now looking sharper. Confident. Dangerous.

Lucas tilted his head, narrowing his eyes slightly.

"Damn," he muttered with a smirk. "I gotta admit... you were one handsome bastard."

He stood straight, adjusting his collar one last time. The soft candlelight caught in the silver trim of his robe. He looked like nobility. No, he looked like power wrapped in silk.

Just as Lucas finished adjusting the final folds of his robe, the door creaked open with a soft knock that barely waited for a reply.

Then, she walked in.

And for a moment... Lucas could only stare.

Lira stood at the doorway, her silhouette framed by the warm lantern light behind her. Her wine-colored gown hugged her slender figure elegantly, cascading in soft folds down her body, with a delicate shimmer that caught every flicker of light. The gown’s neckline was modest, but the gentle curve of her collarbone and the way the sleeves hugged her arms gave it an understated allure. A fine silver necklace lay against her smooth skin, matching the subtle sparkle on her ears and wrists. Her hair, which was usually tied in a simple braid, was now pinned gracefully, with soft curls falling to her shoulders, framing her face like a painting.

Lucas blinked slowly.

He had expected her to look beautiful tonight, he knew her beauty intimately, but not like this.

She wasn’t just beautiful tonight. She was... breathtaking.

"How do I look, Master?" she asked shyly, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear.

Lucas took a step toward her. For once, he didn’t answer with words immediately. He reached for her hand, those delicate fingers he’d seen work tirelessly for him day and night, and gently lifted it to his lips.

He kissed the back of her hand softly, never taking his eyes off hers.



"You look perfect," he said in a low voice. "Like you were made for tonight."

Lira’s cheeks flushed pink. She couldn’t even look up at him for a second.

He offered his arm like a nobleman, with a gentleman’s grace. "Shall we, my dear?"

Lira placed her hand on his arm, her heart thudding in her chest. "Yes, Master."

No....Tonight... he wasn’t just her master. Tonight, he was her date.

She’d been to noble banquets before, dozens of them, in fact. But always with her head bowed, always behind the curtains, always as a servant girl carrying trays of wine and meat to other people’s tables. Never as a guest. Never as someone seen.

But now? Now she was someone. And the man beside her, well, everyone already knew who he was.

As they exited Xavier’s chamber, the corridor outside was bustling with stewards, servants, and a few noble family members preparing for their own departure to the palace. Conversations paused, heads turned.

The moment Lucas and Lira stepped into view, side by side, dressed in deep royal blue and elegant wine red, the corridor went strangely quiet.

Even the maids froze.

Lira walked with a queen’s posture, back straight, head high, eyes calm. And Lucas, equally composed, moved with that quiet, deadly confidence he’d carried since his return. They looked like they belonged to royalty.

"They look like royalty..." a steward said.

Lucas didn’t flinch. He kept walking.

And Lira didn’t falter either. She felt their gazes, of course, some curious, others bitter with jealousy...but she didn’t let it shake her. Tonight wasn’t about them. It was her night too.

The carriage was already waiting for them at the main courtyard, an elegant black-and-gold ride, pulled by two immaculate spirit horses with silver manes. A manservant bowed deeply and opened the carriage door.

Lucas helped Lira inside, making sure the folds of her gown didn’t catch, and followed closely behind her. The carriage door shut with a soft thud and they left for the palace.

After about 15 minutes, the carriage slowed to a smooth halt just outside the grand palace courtyard, where the golden banners of the royal family fluttered proudly under the velvet dusk sky. Torches lined the stone pathways, casting a warm, ceremonial glow across the white marbled steps of the palace entrance. Noblemen and women in glistening robes, adorned with precious jewels and crested family sigils, were already pouring through the gates in groups, laughter and conversation filling the air.

Lucas stepped down from the carriage first. He straightened his robes, eyes scanning the palace façade briefly. Then he turned and extended a hand toward the carriage.

Lira took it, carefully placing her hand in his. She stepped down, her eyes immediately darting toward the overwhelming crowd ahead of them. For a moment, she froze.

They had barely taken three steps toward the grand hall when the reality of where she was, and who she was among, finally hit her like a wave.

There were nobles everywhere. Women dressed in extravagant gowns that shimmered like liquid gold, men wearing robes lined with fur and silk. The scent of incense and wine hung heavily in the air, and the sound of distant music echoed from within the banquet hall.

At the center of the palace courtyard stood several high-ranking figures, already gathering in quiet circles. Lira’s eyes widened as she spotted familiar faces among them.

Her heart skipped.

She saw Elder Alden, Xavier’s father, standing tall beside his wife. Both were already speaking with The King, the Queen and other members of the royal court, looking every bit the distinguished nobles they were. They hadn’t seen Lucas yet.

Lira’s fingers gently tightened around Lucas’s arm.

Lucas noticed. "You alright?" he asked quietly, leaning closer.

She nodded too quickly, swallowing. "Yes... I’m just—" Her voice cracked slightly. She took a slow breath. "There’s just so many people. Important people."

Lucas glanced down at her, noting the way her posture had changed slightly, the way she was holding herself back, unsure, self-conscious.



"You belong here," he said softly. "Walk like you know it."

Lira looked up at him, blinking.

Lucas offered a faint smile. "You’re with me. That’s all they need to know."

It helped. Not completely, but enough. She took another breath, steadied herself, and gave a small nod.

But deep inside, Lira still felt the unease twist in her belly. These halls weren’t meant for someone like her. She wasn’t born into silks and ballrooms. She didn’t know the perfect way to curtsy.

What if she slipped up? What if she embarrassed him?

Still, her feet moved forward, one in front of the other, as the guards at the entrance opened the palace doors for them, bowing.

The dazzling interior of the banquet hall unfolded before them in grand fashion. Chandeliers made of enchanted crystal floated midair, casting soft starlight across the hall. The air buzzed with elegance and murmurs of politics, gossip, and admiration. A small quartet of spirit musicians played from a corner, their notes echoing off the high-arched ceilings.

He gently placed his hand over hers, giving it the smallest, firmest squeeze.

She looked up at him again, and he just gave her that quiet, sure look.

Lira didn’t say anything, but she kept walking.

They hadn’t even reached the main reception line yet.