The Royal Banquet was always unbearably formal. Crystal chandeliers bathed the grand ballroom in warm light while nobles laughed behind jeweled glasses, captains exchanged practiced pleasantries, and servants weaved effortlessly through the crowd carrying silver trays lined with expensive wines.

Captain Nozel Silva stood among them as composed as ever. Elegant. Reserved. Untouchable. His expression never shifted as another noble droned on about politics. He accepted a crystal wine glass from a passing servant without a second thought, offering a polite nod before taking a slow sip.

It was… sweeter than he expected. Strange. Before he could question it, another noble approached, eager to monopolize his attention. Nozel dismissed the odd taste as an expensive blend and continued the conversation, finishing the glass over the next several minutes.

Across the ballroom, you were nowhere near the political discussions. You had somehow wandered toward the dessert table instead, debating whether anyone would notice if you stole another miniature tart.

Nozel’s silver eyes drifted across the room absentmindedly… and landed on you.

His conversation came to a halt. The noble in front of him continued speaking, but the words blurred into meaningless noise. His attention remained fixed on your figure as an unfamiliar warmth settled in his chest.

How peculiar.

Without realizing it, his feet had already begun moving.