The Duvraine household was very lively… for the first time this entire year.

Servants ran back and forth through wide hallways painted with warm magic lanterns, nobles in their finest silks and enchanted suits filled the ballroom below, and the chatter of aristocrats who had gathered for one reason: the birthdays of Grand Mage Stella Duvraine and her daughter Mynes.

The ground floor of the tall mansion had been completely transformed.

Pale-glass chandeliers floating by rune circuits illuminated everything with a soft glow; tables lined with delicacies stretched along the walls; enchanted mist curled lightly across the marble floor to give a stage-play allure; and at the very front… raised slightly above all, the small platform where two thrones awaited their owners.

Sybil Astra stretched her hands above her head with a soft yawn, earning a few glances from passing nobles who weren't used to seeing such casual movements from a beauty like her.

'I still can't believe we got invited…' she thought, raising a brow.

Her parents were already somewhere mingling with several nobles who adored the Astra family.

Typically, the Duvraines and Astras hated each other, or at least maintained a chill professional distance, so an invitation was surprising to say the least.

But Sybil had no complaints.

'Whatever… at least the food looks good.'

A waiter passed beside her with impeccable timing. Without hesitation, Sybil plucked a chilled wine glass from the tray and swirled it before her face.

The pale liquid glowed faintly… the mark of high-quality magical fermentation.

She took a sip and immediately her eyes lit up.

She lifted her other hand under her cheek, leaning slightly to the side like she was posing for a painting.

"The wine tastes so good~ It's high quality."

"You sound like a drunk."

Sybil turned. Flare stood beside her in a crimson dress that brushed the ground in soft waves.

The color made her scarlet hair glow warmly, though the small dark circles under her eyes reminded Sybil that Flare rarely slept… until recently.

Sybil grinned.

"And you… you need to try this."

She extended the wine. Flare hesitated then sipped.

Her cheeks instantly warmed pink, and she quickly took another sip before pushing the cup back into Sybil's hands with an awkward cough.

"It's sweet… I guess."

Sybil's smile widened.

'She likes it. It's written all over her face.'

Before she could tease Flare more, a nobleman approached… one of the typical tall, overdressed, overly cologned types who thought they were irresistible gifts to the world.

He bowed deeply toward Sybil.

"My lady… you are extraordinarily beautiful this evening. May I request your company for the upcoming dance?"

Sybil didn't even blink.

She raised her hand displaying her ring directly at his face.

"Fuck off. I have a fiancé."

The noble's smile twitched.

"Your fiancé doesn't appear to be here. Surely he wouldn't mind—"

Sybil could practically feel the guy's eyes glued to her succulent ass… his gaze was so obvious it practically burned a hole through the fabric of her dress.

And honestly? She couldn't even blame him. If she were a man and she saw a woman with her ass… round, firm, and sitting perfectly in the gown like it had been sculpted by a depraved god. She would absolutely want to claim it too.

It was the kind of ass that made men ruin their reputations… marriages… entire bloodlines.

But unfortunately for this pathetic little noble boy, Sybil's ass already had an owner.

And that owner was Azel, the only man that was allowed to look, touch, or even dream about it.

Everyone else could choke on their fantasies.

'Did this idiot think that excuses anything?'

Then she cleared her throat.

"Get the fuck out of my sight."

The noble flinched, perhaps realizing too late that Sybil was not the type to play coy.

He spun toward Flare, maybe hoping she'd be easier… but one deadpan stare from Flare, flat eyes and an expression devoid of tolerance, made him step back like he'd seen a ghost.

He hurried away.

Flare blinked. "I need to learn to do that."

Another waiter passed by with empty glasses, and Sybil casually dropped hers onto the tray.

"All you need to d—"

But she stopped.

Because everything grew quiet.

The murmuring nobles halted mid-conversation and heads turned toward the staircase, anticipation rolling through the room like a ripple.

And then, the first figure appeared.

Grand Mage Stella Duvraine descended the steps with a grace that made half the room forget how to breathe.

Her long brown hair… glossy like silk fell freely past her shoulders. Her gown, embroidered with shimmering threads, trailed behind her like living starlight.

She moved with the calm assurance of a woman who owned the world simply by existing in it.

Yet the most shocking thing… what made nobles whisper in awe was how young she looked tonight. She always looked young but she didn't even look like she had a child.

Several married men flushed red and quickly looked away from their wives. A few unmarried nobles clenched their fists, wishing desperately they were born in another generation.

Stella reached the stage, settling elegantly into one of the thrones.

She waved to the crowd with a gentle smile… one that melted even the sternest aristocrats.

'She's too gorgeous…' Sybil thought with a small whistle. 'No wonder people fear and admire her in equal measure.'

Moments later, another round of applause erupted as Mynes Duvraine stepped into view.

Her entrance was nothing short of dazzling.

Though she was a clear shadow of Stella in appearance, tonight she stood as her own kind of star. Her dress was slightly more modern… black with silver accents, hugging her waist before flowing down gracefully.

Her hair was tied up loosely, a few strands framing her flushed face as she walked down the steps.

The young men cheered louder for her than even Stella. Some shouted her name and few nearly fainted.

Mynes lifted her chin slightly, pretending the attention didn't faze her… but her eyes moved constantly, searching the crowd as she sat down.

She was looking for one person.

Azel.

She activated one of her detection runes discreetly, magic blooming under her feet and flowing across the ballroom. To her frustration… it returned nothing.

He wasn't here.

Her chest tightened.

'Is he not coming…?'

She tried not to show the disappointment on her face, but her ears reddened slightly, and Stella noticed.

As Mynes reached her throne and sat down stiffly, Stella leaned toward her with a smile.

"Trust the process," she murmured just loud enough for her daughter.

Mynes straightened, breathing in slowly. She would be patient.

Stella raised her voice, projecting effortlessly into every corner of the party hall.

"Everyone! Let's begin the festivities… starting with the dance!"

At her command, the musicians at the far sides of the ballroom immediately picked up their instruments.

Soft strings vibrated, a warm slow waltz began to fill the air, and nobles stepped back, forming an elegant open space in the center.

Stella clapped once, smiling brightly.

"Find your partners and get to dancing!"

…

Sybil and Flare had taken their seats respectively, smoothing out their dresses as they settled into the cushioned chairs.

Opposite them now sat Esme, who was dressed just as elegantly with a soft pastel gown, floral embroidery, hair curled and pinned neatly.

She looked like a perfect noble lady.

Too perfect, apparently.

Sybil narrowed her eyes the moment she truly looked at her friend.

Because Esme's breasts… had never been that big.

"What kind of cow pills are you taking, Esme?" Sybil asked bluntly, lifting a hand to gesture in disbelief.

The orchestra had already begun the first song, several young noble couples and even old married pairs drifting onto the marble floor for the slow dance. "Look at how big your breasts are."

Esme bowed her head so fast her earrings bobbled, her cheeks burning.

"I… I got a growth spurt. It really isn't a big deal."

'Isn't a big deal she says…' Sybil thought as Esme adjusted her sitting posture, unintentionally pressing her arms together.

That simple movement created a jiggle that had no right being that dramatic. 'She's being innocently hot… she doesn't even know what she's doing to these dumb nobles.'

And Sybil wasn't imagining it.

A frightening number of men… single, married, and possibly undead kept glancing at Esme from across the room. Some stared outright. A few looked like they were about to walk into columns because they weren't watching where they stepped.

Even Flare caught one noble ogling too obviously and lowered her gaze at him like she was deciding which bone to snap first.

The man nearly tripped over himself fleeing.

Esme, entirely unaware of the chaos radiating from her new figure, fidgeted and asked shyly, "Do you guys know if Azel will come?"

Her cheeks brightened again as she remembered something.

"Oh right… and congratulations on your engagement to him."

It had spread fast. Faster than wildfire igniting an oil field. The Sword Saint's son being engaged to the Astra family's youngest daughter was practically the headline of the entire noble circle.

Nobles whispered about it constantly, even those who insisted Azel would still gather more women didn't deny the union's prestige.

"Thanks, Esme." Sybil replied, tapping her fingers on the table. "Really. Thanks."

Just then another presence approached… the exact kind Sybil hated.

A noble boy with neatly combed blond hair, dressed to impress, walked right up to Esme and bowed in a manner he probably practiced in a mirror for two hours.

"Milady," he began smoothly, "my name is Arnold Vanalec. I have come to ask for your hand in the dance."

Esme froze like a deer facing an oncoming mana-powered carriage. Arnold's eyes darted downward for a fraction of a second… unsuccessfully hiding the fact that he was staring at her chest.

"I'm sorry," Esme murmured softly, "but I must refuse."

Arnold blinked in disbelief. It was clear he wasn't used to rejection especially from girls who blushed as hard as Esme did.

He opened his mouth to try again.

He didn't get the chance.

Sybil's glare hit him like a blast of killing intent and Flare's dead-eyed stare joined it.

Arnold stiffened, pivoted like a puppet whose strings had been snapped, and scurried away so fast a small gust of wind followed him.

And the rumor spread instantly.

The three women at that table… Sybil, Flare, and Esme were off-limits.

"Rude," some whispered.

"And vicious too," others added.

Sybil rolled her eyes.

"But seriously…" she groaned, leaning back in her chair and staring at the front doors like she could manifest Azel by irritation alone. "When is Azel going to come?"

Even Esme looked conflicted, nibbling her lower lip.

Before either could speculate, a soft voice interrupted.

"Do you ladies mind if I join in…?"

All three turned toward the speaker.

Sylvia.

She stood beside their table in a breathtaking dress of elven silk… which was flowing and fitted elegantly around her slender waist and hips.

She pulled the last empty chair out with a gentle grace and sat.

"Sure, sure. I didn't think you would show," Sybil said, crossing one leg over the other. "You wouldn't happen to know where Azel is… right?"

Sylvia folded her hands neatly on her lap, her expression calm and refined.

"Oh? Azel? He's outside." She took a breath and relaxed into her seat. "He came to my hotel room to pick me up and we came here together. Is there anything wrong with that?"

The three girls froze.

ALL THREE.

Even Sybil lost her smugness.

"What do you mean by that…?" Flare asked coldly, staring at Sylvia with eyes that suggested she had a sword under the table.

Sylvia blinked once, elegantly.

"We're lovers now… it is only common sense."

If she had pulled out a dagger and stabbed the cake beside them, it would've caused less damage to the atmosphere.

Sybil's hand went slack.

Esme inhaled sharply.

Flare's pupils shrank.

Sylvia continued, unbothered.

"When did that happen?" Esme whispered, her face pale.

"Ah… last week," Sylvia said, placing a hand over her chest modestly. "I invited my darling to an expensive date and confessed my feelings for him. It was very romantic."

Then she leaned forward, opening a bottle of wine effortlessly.

"If you like him… you can confess as well. I'd like all of you to become my sister-wives."

The girls were about to talk some more…

And then… The music stopped.

Every head turned.

Because a young man had stepped into the ballroom.

He had silver hair, styled in perfect bangs. A black fitted suit with a crimson tie and a crimson rose pinned neatly to his breast pocket.

Azel Thorne walked forward, completely unaware that he was turning the entire noble hall into a battlefield of reactions.

Women paused mid-dance and men stepped aside.

Some young noble ladies actually covered their mouths in awe.

He was, simply put, astonishingly handsome tonight.

'Damn… everyone's looking at me.' Azel thought with mild confusion. 'I should've styled my hair less… but whatever.'

Gwendolyn floated beside him and her face twisted into what could only be jealousy.

He didn't understand why.

And he didn't have time to dwell on it.

Because Stella Duvraine appeared in front of him.

One moment the path was clear…

The next, the Grand Mage stood there, almost as tall as him with a smirk on her beautiful face.

Azel blinked.

"Happy Birthday Grand Mage Ste—"

"Drop the honorifics…" she said smoothly, stepping back with practiced elegance.

Then she extended her hand toward him, her eyes gleaming like she'd just caught the rarest prey. "Well then, Sir Azel Thorne. Would you honor me with a dance?"

"Eh?!"

The line of over a dozen men who had been waiting by her throne… stared with expressions of betrayal and despair.

They all looked like they'd been stabbed in the heart.

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