The capital of Virellium rose like a monument to human arrogance—marble towers, gilded spires, and walls thick with secrets.
Kael Ardyn, now masked beneath a false name, approached the noble quarter as the moon rose behind him. He walked like he belonged, even though he didn't.
Not yet.
The guards at the gate looked up lazily.
"Name?"
Kael reached into his coat and produced a silver-etched sigil bearing a serpent beneath a crescent moon.
"Kairo Veyran. Guest of Lord Silas Durell."
The guard examined it, nodded without a second glance, and gestured him through.
Even nobility can be fooled if the paper is heavy enough, Kael thought. And their egos thick enough.
The Durell estate was a feast of excess—wine that smelled expensive, velvet banners embroidered with their family crest, and nobles dripping with so much gold they looked ready to sink through the marble.
Kael moved through the room like smoke, neither drawing attention nor avoiding it. He watched. He listened. He filed away names and mannerisms like weapons.
Everyone here wore a mask.
His was simply better.
"Ah! You must be young Lord Veyran!" called a booming voice.
Lord Silas Durell approached, wide of chest and wider of ego, rings glinting on fat fingers.
Kael offered a small, respectful bow. "The honor is mine, my lord. I've heard your name travels far… and echoes louder."
Silas beamed like a man flattered into blindness.
"Ha! A southern tongue and a northern wit! I like you already. Come, drink—meet the court!"
Kael obeyed, but only in appearance.
He mingled, lips curved in a practiced smile. He lied when necessary, flattered when useful. Every word was a thread in a web he was already spinning.
And all the while, she watched.
Lady Velana Durell.Younger than Silas, sharper than any of the silk-draped fools in the room.
She leaned against a marble column, glass untouched in her hand, eyes fixed on Kael like a blade resting gently at his throat.
Later that night, Kael stood on a quiet balcony above the courtyard. The air was cooler here. The noise of the party faded into background hum.
He needed space. Time to think. The System hadn't spoken in hours—but he could feel its passive awareness ticking inside him. Like a second heartbeat.
It didn't need to interrupt.
Not yet.
He opened his hand, tracing the glowing mark beneath his glove with one thumb.
Moonblood, he thought. Still dormant. But it's there. Coiled like a sleeping dragon.
"You play your part well," said a voice from the shadows.
Kael didn't turn immediately.
"I'm not playing," he replied calmly.
Lady Velana stepped into the moonlight, her silver hair glowing faintly. She held no wineglass now, only suspicion.
"You're too precise," she said. "Too polished. Your accent doesn't match your claimed region, and you dance around questions like a trained diplomat. You're not Kairo Veyran."
Kael allowed himself a small smile.
"And yet, here I stand, crest and all."
"Paper and charm don't make you real."
"No," he said, turning to face her fully. "But perception does. And you haven't exposed me… which means you're curious."
A pause.
Then she stepped closer, just enough to lower her voice. "You're dangerous. And that's interesting. But if you slip—just once—I'll know."
Kael met her gaze without fear. "Then you'd better keep watching. Carefully."
A moment passed. She held his eyes… then smiled faintly and left without a word.
Once alone again, Kael looked up at the moon.
No System prompt came.
No quest. No reward.
Just silence.
But he didn't need a screen to tell him what he'd just won.
Her attention.Her silence.And time.