55: Chapter 55 The Succubus Bard! Elena's Melancholy!

Two days later, Gino City, Snow Velvet Manor.

Rowan returned to this quiet lakeside residence.

Ravenna had made him suffer such a stifling loss; he couldn't just let it go.

He did not try to contact Aria.

Although she had said that if he had any trouble, he could look for her.

But that didn't fit his style of doing things.

He was not a Succubus who relied on women!

This time, he had made full preparations.

Before leaving, he first fed Elise and let her guard the territory well, so he could stay outside for a few more days.

However, inside Gino City, it was not easy to use violent means.

The sky above the city was shrouded in a hidden surveillance magic circle, monitoring abnormal energy fluctuations day and night, especially the fluctuations of powerhouses above the Knight level.

Although his Battle Qi possessed the [Shape-shifting] characteristic, it ultimately originated from an Excellent-grade Breathing Technique and might not be able to evade the Church's detection methods and the Insight of high-level clergy within the city.

Therefore, using force to push through was not the best strategy.

He had a more refined method.

Rowan recalled the intelligence he had purchased.

Tonight, at the Golden Sparrow Art Gallery in the east of the city, there was a small-scale "Twilight Poetry" bard salon.

And that Miss Elena Farrell of the Farrell Family, now Lady Gladstone, would also be in attendance.

A bard salon...

A glimmer flashed in Rowan's eyes.

Back then, to cater to the preferences of that picky noble mage, Miss Sylvia, he had put in a lot of hard work in bardic arts, poetry appreciation, and even musical instrument performance.

Later, to get close to Aria, he had to bite the bullet and digest several obscure and difficult Dawn doctrine texts.

"Being a professional Succubus isn't easy... You have to dabble in all eighteen kinds of talents." Rowan sighed inwardly.

However, the target this time was just an 82-rated Elena Farrell.

To deal with her, his Lv3 [Charm] skill, combined with his long-perfected talents, should be more than enough.

He returned to his bedroom and changed into a long-lost bard costume.

A dark blue doublet embroidered with silver thread, slim-fitting trousers, and soft leather boots...

Night fell at the Golden Sparrow Art Gallery.

This was an exquisite clubhouse converted from an old noble mansion, famous for hosting niche salons.

Tonight, the interior of the clubhouse had been rearranged.

Thick velvet curtains separated relatively private spaces, with a performance area left in the center.

The magic wall lamps emitted a soft, hazy halo, and the air was filled with a delicate fragrance.

Holding his invitation, Rowan successfully passed the guard's inspection.

There were not many guests inside, about thirty or forty people, all nobles, and many were dressed in strange costumes or bard attire.

He tidied his hair a little today, making himself look a bit more like an uninhibited and melancholic artist.

After entering the hall, he chose a seat in a slightly dimmer area and quietly observed the scene.

Soon, a slight commotion came from the entrance.

Surrounded by a group of young noble men and women, Lady Elena of the Farrell Family walked in gracefully.

She wore an ivory off-shoulder satin gown tonight, which shimmered with a soft luster under the lights.

Her slightly curly long hair was not styled into a complicated bun like at the wedding, but was loosely braided to the side, hanging over her shoulder, with a fresh blue rose pinned at her temple.

She must have dressed up carefully, adding a bit more vitality than on the wedding day, but between her brows, there was still a lingering touch of faint melancholy.

Rowan's gaze landed on her.

The system panel appeared silently: [82 points].

However, when he scanned her figure and posture more carefully with his special Succubus perception.

He felt an unexpected surprise.

From the slightly immature and tense lines of her shoulders and neck, the sense of reserved distance she unconsciously maintained while walking, and the clarity in the depths of her eyes that had not yet been tainted by true love...

All signs indicated that this Lady Gladstone was still pure.

This was interesting.

Very interesting.

Rowan picked up his wine glass.

His eyes narrowed slightly behind the crystal glass.

This appetizer might be more raw and sweet than he had anticipated.

The salon began after a short speech by the organizer.

Several young poets and singers took turns on stage, reciting their own or famous works, playing the lute or harp.

The level was uneven, but applause always sounded politely.

Elena sat on a sofa in the front left.

She rested her chin on her hand, seemingly listening intently, but her eyes would occasionally drift toward the deep night outside the window.

Or she would unconsciously rub the brand-new gemstone ring on her ring finger, appearing somewhat preoccupied.

When another performer stepped down amidst sparse applause, the salon fell into a brief lull.

Rowan knew the time had come.

He put down his wine glass, rose calmly, and walked toward the performance area in the center, gently bathed in light...

His movements were not ostentatious, but that natural bearing and handsome, perfect appearance instantly attracted the gazes of the ladies.

Elena was also attracted by the figure who had just stepped onto the stage and subconsciously looked up.

When she saw the handsome face that had caught her eye at the wedding, a trace of genuine surprise flashed across her melancholic eyes.

Is it him? That baron?

Why is he here? And in this attire?

Rowan bowed slightly to the surroundings without saying a word.

He picked up the seven-stringed lyre he had brought and tested the sound.

Immediately, a clear yet slightly raspy sound of the lyre rang out, like flowing moonlight, like a whisper of the evening breeze.

He began to sing, his voice deep and magnetic, carrying a strange and mesmerizing power.

He did not choose a traditional lyric poem, but an ancient ballad about a noble girl bound by family fate, conversing with a phantom nightingale under the moonlight, pouring out her inner loneliness and longing for freedom in the distance.

The lyrics were beautiful and sorrowful, the melody winding and undulating.

He perfectly integrated that repression, unwillingness, and secret yearning into every note and phrase.

While singing, he quietly cast the [Charm] skill.

Not a large-scale influence, but condensed into a single line, transmitted individually to Elena in the audience.

Elena only felt that the singing seemed to carry magic, every word striking her heart.

The shackles of a marriage arranged by the family, the confusion about the future, the loneliness of being in a gorgeous cage...

These emotions she had buried deep in her heart and never spoken of to anyone were actually sung out by this strange yet handsome baron in such a poetic and soul-striking way!

Elena looked at Rowan in the spotlight.

Her light brown eyes involuntarily followed the figure on stage immersed in the performance.

Watching his lowered brows and eyes, listening to his resonant voice, a warm current that was both reassuring and made her want to get close to him quietly enveloped her along with the singing.

A trace of daze flashed in her eyes, her cheeks flushed slightly, and her fingertips unconsciously tightened on her skirt.