Watching Sophia laugh so hard that she swayed like a blossoming branch, her flowing lace trim swaying with her, the other "ambitious" noble sons all cast dark looks in Lucian's direction, mingled with jealousy and deep puzzlement. What secret could he possibly have shared to make the princess laugh so freely? After all, Princess Sophia, despite her lively personality, was a proper member of the imperial family who had been raised with impeccable court etiquette—a true paragon of ladylike grace, the elegant ideal that noble girls like Jocelyn aspired to emulate. It was rare to see her lose composure like this.
Realizing she had been a bit improper, Sophia raised her right hand to cover her mouth. After composing herself for a few seconds, she blinked her clear emerald eyes with a lingering smile: "Borak, hm, you're an interesting person—more interesting than I previously thought." During the period when the young Sophia had been active in social circles, Borak had been in the depths of his decline. Faced with an elegant, beautiful, and powerful princess, he had only felt crushing self-doubt and had never dared draw near. Even though he too wished to consolidate his position through marriage, how could a princess of such high station be moved by a failure like him, who was barely even qualified to compete for the heir's seat? Thus, Sophia's impression of Borak had been nothing but gloomy, silent, and hopeless—destined never to become Duke of the Golden Eagle Blossom.
Lucian had been calculating that Borak, flush with the newly inflated confidence of having "just become a formal knight," would naturally strike back after being provoked by Alten. That would be the normal course of action. So he had stepped forward with a little trick to amuse Sophia.
"Thank you for your kind words, Your Highness." Lucian performed an exaggerated gentleman's bow. At that moment, the old dowager behind Sophia—appearing to be in her sixties—had her lips move almost imperceptibly. Had Lucian not possessed such a powerful soul, he never would have noticed.
The smile Sophia had just reined in slowly bloomed again. She grasped the hem of her skirt, her slender white neck leaning forward, and in full view of everyone present, leaned close to Lucian's ear, her warm, sweet breath washing over him: "You're far more interesting than these nobles who only know how to enjoy themselves, chase luxury, and scheme against one another without the slightest understanding of humor. I hope you won't let them change you." The previous remark had been praise within acceptable bounds, but this was something else entirely—an unmistakable display of intimacy.
Lucian was by nature a suspicious person. Even his friendship with Natasha, John, and others had only developed after prolonged contact and shared experiences that gradually allowed him to lower his guard. So Sophia's sudden favor did not go to his head. He found it distinctly strange—why the sudden shift to such enthusiasm? Love at first sight couldn't explain this. Simply put, a "slightly humorous" Borak who had no knightly strength and no knowledge of the elegant arts was not yet worthy of being loved at first sight. At best, he might plant the seed of some goodwill. Abnormal behavior always had a reason behind it.
What could it be? Had the old dowager told Sophia about his knightly strength, and was she now trying to meddle in the Golden Eagle Blossom family's succession dispute—thereby deepening the imperial family's control over the house? Countless questions surged through Lucian's mind, though outwardly his cheeks flushed slightly with excitement. Nodding vigorously, he turned and whispered in Sophia's ear: "Your Highness, I will stay true to myself. I won't disappoint you." His manner was perfectly calibrated—the picture of flustered gratitude and overwhelmed humility. But as he spoke, he deliberately let his breathing grow heavy, his hot breath fanning against Sophia's pale, delicate earlobe. He watched her shiver slightly, a blush spreading rapidly from her neck to her ear, her brow knitting sharply before relaxing again.
"Mm, whatever her reasons, this isn't about being attracted to Borak." Lucian made the cold assessment internally. He had gone toe-to-toe with countless "Oscar-level" actors among the "powerhouses" of the world. Little girl, you're still too green—you need the "Professor" to coach you for a few more years.
Regardless of how Lucian interpreted the situation, several murderous gazes from the surrounding noble sons were already locked onto him like wolves eyeing prey, and more were turning distinctly unfriendly. The two of them had been far too intimate!
Sophia lowered her skirt hem and struggled for a long moment before making her smile look "sincere": "It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance again, Borak." With that, she turned to Denis at a speed that left "Borak" no time to reply: "I have something I'd like to ask you about."
"Then let's head to the powder room." Denis pinched his fingers into an orchid gesture and swayed off toward the other end of the hall. He too was dying to know what secret Borak had shared that could make the seemingly warm and lively but actually proud and reserved Sophia so suddenly cheerful and enthusiastic.
Lucian narrowed his eyes slightly, "pursuing" Sophia's swaying figure with his gaze as she quickened her pace. Then he suddenly felt a tangible scorching heat on his cheek. Shifting his attention, he saw the old dowager in her black dress staring at him with cold indifference.
Lucian curled his lips into a smile and nodded in "greeting," receiving an even icier stare in return.
After Princess Sophia's departure, the noble sons dispersed into their own circles, and Lucian's surroundings immediately grew deserted. Even those who exchanged a few words with him did so with meaningless pleasantries and perfunctory courtesy—a stark contrast to the bustling crowd around Alten, their eager conversation and laughter, a perfect illustration of what it meant to ride the crest of fortune versus wallowing in decline.
Lucian picked up a glass of the golden rum that Borak favored and made an effort to look both disdainful and dejected.
"Borak, you really have changed a lot recently." The soft feminine voice came from beside him even before he had taken his first sip. It was Jocelyn—tall, full-figured, with delicate features.
Lucian glanced back at Alten and saw him surrounded by a crowd of noble sons in the center of the hall, chatting and laughing with abandon. He smiled and replied: "When things have reached a dead end, you have to understand the need to change. Only change brings new hope. I have nothing left to lose—changing myself can't possibly make things worse." His words were deliberately vague and tinged with an irrepressible bitterness. He was quite satisfied with how he'd delivered that line.
"If... I mean if... you had been like this last year, then I wouldn't have..." Jocelyn sighed, leaving the sentence unfinished as she walked away carrying two glasses of red wine. Her retreating figure looked faintly desolate and forlorn, enough to stir one's pity.
Lucian swirled the golden rum in his glass, watching the golden liquid reflect tiny shards of light, and sighed internally: "What a pity I'm not Borak. If I were, after hearing words like that, even if I had the strength, I might not want to harm you in the underground palace." He didn't care whether Jocelyn's melancholy was genuine or feigned. When the time came in the underground palace, he would do what he had to do.
Carrying his glass, Lucian wandered through the banquet hall. Suddenly he spotted a golden-haired beauty in a black gauze evening gown approaching from the opposite direction. Her eyes were a deep, fathomless blue, and her features bore a certain resemblance to Borak's.
"Dear cousin, it pleases me to see you've regained your spirits." The beautiful woman raised her glass and clinked it against Lucian's.
Lucian smiled blandly: "Claire, I would have thought you'd be pleased to have one fewer rival."
This was another strong contender for the succession—Claire van Anjou, Borak's cousin, a formal knight. Since knightly rank was independent of gender, in the vast majority of human nations, noblewomen, especially female knights, held full rights of inheritance.
"No—if you were gone, Alten would set his sights on me, and I'm no match for him." Claire smiled faintly as she looked at Lucian. She was tall and slender, with a graceful figure. "Besides, he's far too arrogant. If he wins, it won't go well for any of us. The Empire doesn't have Shaheran's winner-take-all rules, but I worry he'd play dirty tricks. Given the choice, I'd rather you claim the title of Golden Eye Count."
"What are you saying?" Lucian smiled as if everything were under his control.
Claire's smile turned alluring: "We pool our forces and give Alten a punishing lesson in the underground palace—eliminate the greatest threat first. After that, we each rely on our own strength. What do you say?"
"I'd be delighted." Lucian answered in Borak's tone, making no mention of what would happen after Alten's removal.
Seeing that Lucian seemed entirely unconcerned about the subsequent competition, Claire's heart sank. Had he truly gained some extraordinary opportunity? Did he have that much confidence? Outwardly, she betrayed no hint of unease. As she raised her glass and moved past him, her left hand reached out to grasp Lucian's left hand, her fingers lightly scratching his palm. Her voice suddenly turned husky and seductive: "No matter who wins in the end, there's no reason we can't share a beautiful night together."
"Claire..." Lucian looked genuinely taken aback.
Claire smiled with undisguised allure: "Don't play the saint, Borak. You won't even spare your own father's mistress—what's a cousin to you? Besides, it's not as if we can't marry, so long as you can activate the Sun Bloodline." The Sun Bloodline was a special lineage that required the purest possible blood, so marriages between close relatives to produce offspring were a common occurrence. The Lafati family of the Vorlite Principality was a prime example, and there was no lack of similar situations within the Golden Eagle Blossom family.
After leaving Lucian, the smile gradually faded from Claire's face, a cold sneer curling at the corner of her lips.
Lucian watched her retreating figure and shook his head with a smile. He didn't know what she was scheming, but what he and they each sought was undoubtedly worlds apart.
After completing another half-circle and turning toward the balcony, a golden-haired man abruptly approached and gestured for Lucian to come to the balcony to talk.
"Ralph? What is it?" Lucian asked, feigning helplessness.
This was yet another succession candidate—Ralph of the Golden Eagle Blossom family. A handsome man who had not yet activated his bloodline.
Standing in the cold night breeze, Ralph's face was gloomy yet tinged with excitement: "Borak, I want to cooperate with you to deal with Alten together. He's too dominant—if we don't band together, there's no hope of defeating him."
"That's agreeable." Lucian maintained his air of "profound mystery."
"I know your father was the Duke's youngest brother and must have left you all manner of supernatural items and potions. Am I beneath your notice as a partner?" Feeling Lucian's detached attitude, Ralph grew somewhat agitated and defensive. "I've already activated the Sun Bloodline!"
"You've activated the Sun Bloodline?" Lucian showed mild surprise.
Ralph glanced back at the hall, then turned and spoke solemnly: "This is my greatest trump card. I'm telling you this to demonstrate my sincerity." As he spoke, a ray of sunlight-like radiance emerged from his fingertip, proving his ability to wield Arcane Magic.
"I'm glad to cooperate. Our greatest enemy is Alten. Only after dealing with him can we talk about competing with each other." Lucian answered using Claire's own words.
"You're very clear-headed. I'll head back in first—I can't let Alten discover this." Ralph took a few steps, then suddenly turned back and whispered: "Watch out for Claire. She seems to have gotten involved with the imperial family."
"Understood." Lucian answered solemnly.
The moment Ralph left, Lucian's expression relaxed. When Ralph had cast that magic just now, he hadn't been relying on bloodline power! A Great Knight or a mid-tier mage might not have been able to tell the difference, but as a high-ranking Archanist, a mage, and a member of the Arcane Review Committee, if Lucian couldn't distinguish between spiritual-energy casting and bloodline casting at such close range, what awaited him would be nothing less than the terrifying roar of the Storm Sovereign.
"You're a man with secrets too, Ralph." Lucian shook his head with a smile, though he wasn't particularly concerned about any of this. Whatever tricks, plans, or schemes they had, once they entered the underground palace, it would be nothing more than grown adults beating up children.
……
In the Golden Eagle Blossom family's study, the aged Duke—his hair slightly graying—was carefully reading the report in his hands.
"Greed Demon... greed..." The old Duke looked up with an expression that was half a smile, gazing at Frederick, who had been assigned to secretly protect Borak.
Frederick nodded earnestly: "Your Grace, I peeked at the parchment, and I heard it with my own ears."
"Mm. For the underground palace trial, you will enter as a hidden protective force. Don't let the situation spiral out of control." The old Duke gave his orders gravely.
"Yes, Your Grace." Frederick answered respectfully.
After Frederick departed, a figure shrouded entirely in black robes suddenly emerged from the shadows of the study: "Why send him in? He'll show favoritism toward Borak. Or have you changed your mind and decided to let Borak inherit?"
Hmph. The old Duke let out a cold laugh, his gaze fixed on the word "greed" in the document.