A week went by, and an award ceremony was held ever so extravagantly, in the great hall of the palace.
Now that the empire had coin to spare, the first order of business was to honor those who had gone on the dangerous expedition and found it. The ceremony was grand—chandeliers blazing, gold and crimson banners cascading from the vaulted ceilings, a crimson carpet rolling from the great doors to the foot of the imperial throne. Fresh flowers perfumed the halls, and the feast laid out was lavish.
Attendees came from nearly every walk of life. Nobles in their finest silks, traders in embroidered coats, merchants wearing their jewels and finery, administrators in stiff formal robes, and even common folk.
For Emperor Visil was known and loved for his humility and his care for the people.
The emperor sat upon his throne, raised on a dais so that he looked down upon all who approached. Standing beside him, slightly behind and to his right—was Ayumu.
She wore the formal white robes of the royal advisor. A short white veil covered her face, though her golden eyes remained softly visible through the sheer fabric.
The emperor called the honorees forward one by one.
First, Kaiser. As head of the nation's defense and head of the Wrath family, his standing was already formidable—second only to the emperor himself. Even so, he was granted full authority over national security, an honorary title for the annals.
Then Drobar. Still a judge in training, he received a higher rank in military decision-making—a seat at tables once reserved for generals—along with a silver-and-blue medal pinned to his broad chest.
Osmond was given a long-overdue promotion within the military and the imperial guard.
Fifi, young as he was, was awarded the prestigious position of head scholar for his department at the Volance Magis Academy.
Rhea was made a doctor at the capital hospital, where she had long served as an assistant.
And Levain was granted a higher role as an advisor to the Ministry of Development—a quiet but influential position.
Each received their title, their share of the gold, and the empire's gratitude.
All except Ayumu.
Not that she needed them. She was already the royal advisor, the head of the Velmiar family, the sister of the emperor. As a white magis, she was not a vain creature—she had no need for riches or titles. None could surpass her station, even now.
But still.
She was being punished. For leaving behind a mop and a note, then disappearing for more than a month while her brother ponders on whether she is alive or dead.
Never mind that she had made significant contributions to the expedition.
The emperor's word was law.
And the law said: one month of house arrest.
Under the veil, Ayumu was pouting.
She had suffered through one week already—confined to her room, forced to recover when she felt perfectly fine, forced to complete the mountain of paperwork that had piled up in her absence. She had stared at the same four walls until she thought she might go mad. She had watched the sun rise and set from her window, like a caged bird.
One week down. Three to go. It felt like an eternity.
After the award ceremony, the party began.
The great hall was transformed—tables draped in white linen, platters of roasted meats and glazed vegetables, silver goblets filled with wine from the empire's finest vineyards. Musicians played in the gallery above, their melodies drifting down like falling petals.
Ayumu was seated next to the emperor at the head table—the place of honor, though it felt more like a gilded cage. Her brother ate and drank and spoke with the nobles who approached, his imperial mask firmly in place.
The expedition members sat at a separate table on the left side—close enough to see, far enough to feel the weight of what they had done.
Or rather, what they had not done.
Throughout the meal, they could feel Ayumu's eyes on them.
Even through the veil. Even from across the hall. Her golden gaze was impossible to ignore. It was silent, sad and pleading for attention to her.
The members shifted uncomfortably in their seats.
Rhea set down her fork with a soft clink. "I can feel Ayumu pouting all the way from here," she murmured, her voice low. "The guilt is making it very hard for me to swallow my food."
Levain nodded, swirling the wine in his goblet without drinking. "Poor Lady Ayumu. I heard she was withering in her room—drowning in paperwork and boredom. They say she finished three months' worth of documents in a single week."
Fifi snorted into his cup. "Yes, but she also tried to escape twice within the few days. Did you not hear the story? Some guards were screaming in the hallway—they thought they had seen a ghost." He grinned despite himself. "She was captured soon after and scolded by the emperor afterwards."
Drobar nodded gravely. "I can understand their fear. I went through the same thing once—nearly peed in my pants." He said this with such earnestness that Rhea had to stifle a laugh.
Rhea composed herself. "Be a bit more empathetic to her, please. The poor girl has lived her life freely. Wandering the world as she pleases. And now she is confined, with a brother who happens to be the emperor. It must be stifling beyond words."
Kaiser had been silent throughout the exchange.
He sat at the end of the table, his goblet of red wine held loosely in his fingers. He had barely touched his food. His red eyes were fixed on some distant point—or rather, fixed on avoiding a certain direction entirely.
He did not look at Ayumu.
Because every time he did, she was looking back.
Her golden eyes, soft and sad and full of unspoken pleas. Kaiser knew what faces she was making.
His heart ached but there was nothing he could do.
Levain glanced toward the center of the hall. "Oh, there is going to be a dance later. Will Rhea be performing the Balaqi?"
Drobar's eyes lit up. "Ohh, I look forward to that."
Brown magis were known for their voluptuous figures, and the Balaqi was a traditional dance of celebration performed by magis women. Its a dance where the women would more with sensuality while remaining fully covered. It was not a dance Rhea enjoyed; she hated being sexualized. But in magis tradition, it was performed to honor victory and fortune.
Fifi tilted his head. "Would Lady Ayumu be dancing too? Come to think of it, I have never seen or heard of a white magis dancing."
Rhea started laughing—a stifled, breathy sound she tried to hold back. Everyone turned to look at her.
There is a reason why they do not dance. Rhea remembered asking Ayumu to try dancing Balaqi in her office a while back. It was… very memorable dance to say the least.
Levain leaned in. "What? What is it? Rhea, you are hiding something from us."
Rhea snickered, then glanced meaningfully at Kaiser. "Perhaps, Lord Kaiser… you should ask Ayumu for a dance before the Balaqi begins."
She pointed toward the main table. Rhea was hinting that since the emperor had risen to speak with other nobles, leaving Ayumu momentarily alone, it would be a perfect chance for him to ask Ayumu for a dance.
Kaiser understood and considered it. The slow dance was about to begin.
Without a word, he rose from his seat and walked toward the main table.
Everyone gasped. As Kaiser approached Ayumu, extending his hand towards her.
The black magis, who was usually cold, untouchable, the perfect specimen of emotionless power—had just asked the royal advisor for a dance.
From across the hall, Visil stopped mid-conversation. He saw Kaiser inviting Ayumu. His scowl deepened.
Who is he to ask my sister for a dance?
Ayumu blinked up at Kaiser in confusion.
"Think of it as a momentary escape from your house arrest, Lady Ayumu," he said quietly, extending his hand. "Take my hand. Quickly."
Ayumu glanced past him and saw Visil already turning, already beginning to stride toward them. She grabbed Kaiser's hand and rose from her seat.
They walked toward the center of the hall—Ayumu maintaining a gentle, elegant poise despite her racing heart.
She leaned close to him, whispering. "Lord Kaiser—"
"Just Kaiser," he corrected.
"Ah, yes. But… Kaiser…" She swallowed. "I cannot dance. I do not know how."
Her panic was barely contained behind her serene expression.
They reached the center of the floor. Kaiser turned to face her, placing one hand on her waist, the other lifting hers.
"Relax," he assured her. "Just follow the flow."
The ballad began—slow, sweeping, romantic.
Ayumu moved with him.
Stiffly. Very stiffly.
She moved like a stick caught in the wind—awkward, jerky, painfully out of rhythm. She tripped. Stepped on his foot. Apologized. Stepped on his foot again. Apologized again. Stepped on his foot a third time.
The crowd murmured. Some giggled behind their hands.
The always-perfect white magis had a flaw.
She could not dance.
And for once—to everyone's shock—Kaiser was smiling.
Not a smirk. Not a cold curl of the lips. A real smile. Teeth showing. Eyes crinkling.
"Ayumu…" He swallowed a laugh. "You are truly terrible at dancing."
Ayumu's ears turned red. Then her cheeks. Then her entire face. She was a tomato in white robes.
Seeing that, Kaiser laughed a proper laugh.
Across the hall, Visil stood frozen.
He had never seen Kaiser smile. He had certainly never seen him laugh. And on top of that—since when was Ayumu comfortable touching another man? She flinched at contact from everyone. Everyone. Even him, before, now not so.
But here she was. In Kaiser's arms. Moving with him.
"K-Kaiser," Ayumu whispered, her voice pleading, "please stop making fun of me… please."
Kaiser's laughter softened. Without a word, he lifted her—gently—and placed her feet on top of his.
Now the movement was fluid. Kaiser supported her completely, guiding her through the steps, his boots moving in slow, sweeping arcs while she simply held on. The dance looked elegant again. Almost effortless.
All eyes were on them.
But not all of them were kind.
In the shadows near the edge of the hall, Medea watched. Her hands curled into fists. Her jaw tightened with jealousy.
She turned and left the hall without a word.
Back at the expedition table, Drobar winced. "My word… this is painful to watch."
Rhea was cackling. "Oh, Ayumu is so dear! She is so cute! Hahaha!"
Fifi pieced it together. "So white magis never dance because…"
"That is right," Rhea confirmed, wiping a tear from her eye. "They are awkward with their bodies. They have two left feet. Hahaha!"
Levain shook his head. "It is a bit painful to watch. How could you suggest that, Rhea? Lady Ayumu must be so embarrassed."
Rhea glanced at the dance floor, where Kaiser was still smiling. "Well, Lord Kaiser is having a wonderful time? Who knew he could smile and laugh like that. He should thank me later."
Visil watched the entire dance.
His expression was unreadable—but his hands were clasped tightly behind his back. When the ballad finally ended, he beckoned to his attendant, Roma.
"Add dancing lessons to Ayumu's schedule," he said, his voice flat. "I will be her partner."
A pause.
"Such dancing should be criminal."
Roma bowed. "...Understood, Your Majesty."