The sun was already drifting toward the horizon. Scarlet rays spilled across the rooftops and spires of Lasthold, bathing the city in soft light before slowly fading, yielding to the deepening blue of evening. One by one, the windows of the Academy flared to life with magical light, illuminating its long corridors.

  At this hour, when most staff had already left their offices, a door deep within the hallway creaked faintly. They were the doors to the Magisters’ Hall.

  It opened just enough for a human figure to slip out.

  Kael slipped out swiftly, deftly, as if intent on leaving unnoticed. He closed the door with care, checked that the lock had clicked into place, and moved forward almost soundlessly.

  A satisfied smirk rested on his lips. His amber eyes gleamed in the dim light, catching the glow of the mana crystals set into the walls.

  “When Duran returns, a little gift will be waiting for him…” he thought as he glided down the corridor with a light, confident stride.

  “The Canon of Pulsing Thought should suit him perfectly. Its creators weren’t human—but for Duran, with his Soul Form, that won’t be a problem.”

  He let out a quiet chuckle, as if amused by some private joke, and stepped out from the side passage leading from the Hall of Ancient Research.

  Outside, evening colors reigned—blue lantern light shimmered across the stone tiles, and from afar drifted the voices of a city already well into its nightly rest and revelry.

  Kael headed toward the exit, lost in thought, until he suddenly stopped and smacked his forehead.

  “Right…” he muttered, mildly irritated. “I have an appointment…”

  Leaving through the gates, Kael gave a short nod to the guards on duty. They recognized him at once—one broke into a broad smile, while the other, a young man with a burn on his cheek, couldn’t resist teasing:

  “Another whole day in the books, Kael? Aren’t you afraid you’ll turn into a scroll yourself?”

  Kael smirked and shot back:

  “By that logic, you two must have turned into layabouts ages ago.”

  Both guards burst out laughing. Kael waved farewell and stepped onto the main street.

  Lasthold at night glowed—hundreds of lights, the clamor of crowds, laughter, the scent of alcohol in the air. He walked briskly, never looking back, allowing himself only a few steadying breaths to dampen the tension rising inside him.

  “The restaurant ‘Violet Topaz’… one of the most expensive in the city,” he murmured inwardly, a shadow passing through his eyes.

  The thought of the upcoming meeting brought him no joy—quite the opposite, faint flashes of hatred flickered through him—ones he struggled to suppress. His amber eyes flashed with a predatory glint for a heartbeat.

  “Damn… still can’t control myself when I think about that bastard Aiden,” he thought coldly, his fist tightening almost imperceptibly.

  He slowed his pace, inhaled deeply and exhaled, forcing himself to relax. Then that familiar carefree, almost charming smile returned to his face—the one that fooled people so easily.

  “Now I need to think in terms of profit,” he murmured under his breath, quiet but edged with self-control. “Which means… I’ll have to play along with that sly fox.”

  With that, Kael headed toward the lower terraces, where the signs of luxurious establishments gleamed in golden lantern light. His shadow slipped between the buildings and soon dissolved into the colorful, living flow of Lasthold at night.

  ? ? ?

  Half an hour later, Kael stepped onto a wide boulevard—one of Lasthold’s central arteries. The air here smelled not of sweat and smoke, but of incense and expensive perfumes. Even the breeze felt cleaner, and the stone pavement gleamed as though polished to a mirror shine.

  Elegant archways stretched overhead, adorned with jeweled lanterns; above each building floated suspended crystals, glowing with soft golden radiance. The streetlamps burned with a steady, muted light, flattering the colors of the passersby’s robes and costly garments.

  On both sides stood rows of restaurants and salons—not noisy, but lavish, with muffled music, velvet drapes, and magical signs spelling out dancing letters. There were no vendors or market stalls here—they simply weren’t allowed to spoil the district’s aesthetic.

  Only a few food pavilions hinted at “ordinary” life—graceful, refined structures befitting the street. There, meat roasted over magical flame, and the aroma of spices blended seamlessly with the scent of fresh wine.

  Kael walked on, ignoring the callers—men and women dressed a little too elegantly, their voices trained to entice. Several tried to catch his eye, but he only shook his head lightly and continued as if he hadn’t noticed at all.

  A few minutes later, he stopped.

  Before him stood a two-story stone building with arched windows and a violet walkway leading inside. At the entrance stood two guards in black vests with silver emblems, and between them stood a woman with dark-violet hair falling to her shoulders and a dress that shimmered with every movement.

  Seeing him pause, she gave him a quick, assessing look—openly skeptical from head to toe.

  “Do you need something here, boy?” she drawled with a lazy smile, lifting her chin slightly. “Lost, are we?”

  She inhaled, ready to add something sharp—likely ‘then go lose yourself somewhere else’—but the words caught in her throat.

  “Aiden, son of Kargos, arranged a meeting with me,” Kael said calmly, staring directly into her eyes. “This is the Violet Topaz, isn’t it?”

  The woman froze—as if someone had yanked the thread of her thoughts. For a heartbeat, her face showed genuine confusion, but the next moment she transformed completely.

  A radiant smile blossomed across her face, her eyes sparking with feigned admiration as her voice turned sweet and melodic:

  “Aaaah! So you’re the young genius Kael!” she trilled, tilting her head and gesturing inside with exaggerated respect. “Your aura practically whispers of future greatness! Please, come in—they’re already waiting for you!”

  Even the guards exchanged glances. Surprise flickered across their features—moments ago their superior had been ready to throw the brat out, and now she was practically bowing.

  But remembering Aiden’s name dispelled their confusion. A potential heir of the Vengeful Thunder Family was someone people approached with careful fear. With that, every question vanished.

  Kael only smirked faintly, watching all three faces shift at once.

  “You don’t have to lie,” he said lazily as he stepped closer. “A moment ago you were about to chase me away from the door.”

  He tilted his head slightly, the corners of his lips curling into a mocking half-smile.

  “I don’t have any aura.”

  The woman stiffened immediately, terrified she had insulted the guest and would now be punished. But before she could respond, Kael, without breaking his stride, walked past her. Without slowing, he glanced back and threw over his shoulder, his voice sharp and predatory:

  “But that’s for now… Who knows? Maybe that’ll change in the future.”

  The moment the words reached her, the woman bowed deeply—so abruptly her dark-violet hair spilled over her shoulders.

  “Forgive me if I’ve offended you, sir!” she blurted, her voice trembling with both fear and eagerness to please. “It was an unworthy act… unbecoming of our establishment!”

  Kael paused, gave her a brief, calm glance, and waved her off.

  “That’s enough. I’ve already forgotten it.”

  The woman straightened at once, though the tension never left her posture. She stepped forward, restoring her professional mask—a perfectly rehearsed smile that still trembled slightly.

  “Of course, Master Kael,” she said more softly. “Allow me to escort you. Aiden is waiting on the second floor.”

  “Lead the way,” Kael said with a brief nod.

  The doors opened before him, and he stepped inside.

  The world shifted instantly.

  The Violet Topaz was steeped in refined, restrained luxury. The air carried the subtle aroma of rare spices and wine, and a soft murmur of voices blended with delicate harp and flute music. The light came not from ordinary lamps, but from violet crystals embedded in the walls.

  The floor was laid with dark stone veined in gold, and the ceiling was supported by elegant columns carved with winding grapevines.

  The first floor was lively—guests dressed with impeccable taste sat at carved stone tables. Tiny spheres of light hovered above each table, illuminating the dishes and glasses with a gentle radiance.

  But the true luxury lay above. The second floor, hidden behind translucent curtains of shimmering silk, held private booths for its elite patrons. There, dimness and silence reigned, shielded by magical sound-dampening wards.

  “Well now…” Kael mused. “My family’s little restaurant doesn’t even exist in the same universe as this place.”

  He looked around unhurriedly, immediately grasping the essence of the Violet Topaz: it wasn’t a temple of taste, but of power. Every motion of the servers, every soft note of the harp, the gleam of glassware, the muted laughter—all of it was calculated sophistication mixed with the particular, elegantly disguised servility found only in places that know how to bow to the powerful.

  But he also felt something else—the stares.

  Some guests, after a quick glance at his clothing—neat, but clearly inexpensive—let their expressions tighten. Their faces said, “What is he doing here?”

  Someone set their glass aside. Someone pressed their lips together, as though afraid to taint the elite atmosphere just by looking at him.

  The manager noticed and tensed slightly, but gathered herself and gestured smoothly toward the stairs.

  “Please follow me, Master Kael.”

  Kael nodded, and their steps echoed in unison on the marble staircase.

  The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

  And then the hall came alive with whispers.

  The front tables—those who seconds ago had watched him with condescension—now exchanged quick glances.

  “Who is that boy?” murmured a woman wearing a pearl necklace.

  “Never seen him before,” replied a man in a golden vest. “He’s definitely not from one of the influential families…”

  “Then why are they taking him upstairs?” a third whispered, perplexed.

  The whispers rolled through the room like a light wave, and many watched with interest to see which pavilion he would be taken to.

  Kael couldn’t care less about the stares or the whispering—to him, these people were noise, a useless background hum. He walked calmly, even lazily, without slowing until the manager stopped before one of the translucent curtains on the upper floor.

  Nothing could be seen through the thick silk, but the faint shifting of shadows made it clear—someone was already inside. Judging by the silhouettes and flickering light, the company inside was anything but bored.

  The manager made a fluid gesture and bowed respectfully.

  “Young Master Aiden is already inside. Please, enter.”

  She brushed her fingers lightly against the violet curtain. The thin silver ring on her hand ignited with a soft glow—faint, yet unmistakable, like a key turning in an arcane lock.

  A subtle rustle followed—either the fabric soaking in mana or the silence spell dissolving. Sounds from within returned at once: light laughter, clinking glasses, muted music, lively voices.

  “Thank you,” Kael said with a nod, and dipped his head as he stepped through the parted veil.

  Inside, the space was far larger than expected. An atmosphere of excess, relaxed indulgence, and cultivated elegance ruled here.

  Before him stretched a long, lavishly set table: delicate silverware, crystal glasses, exquisite appetizers, and bottles of expensive wine.

  On velvet violet couches reclined about a dozen young women—around twenty, dressed in translucent yet not vulgar gowns. Their attire was made not for crudeness, but for refinement; seduction expressed through suggestion rather than exposure. They laughed, fanned themselves, exchanged playful glances—but in their eyes glimmered a trained submissiveness.

  And opposite the entrance, slightly elevated above the rest, Aiden lounged.

  He wore a perfectly tailored dark-blue suit with silver embroidery, one elbow draped over the back of the couch while his other hand lazily twirled a wineglass. His face glowed with self-satisfaction, as though everything around him existed solely for his pleasure.

  Behind him, half-hidden in shadow, stood a young man—thin, head bowed. He neither moved nor looked around, as if he were just another piece of furniture.

  Kael recognized him instantly. It was the “Slug,” the one who had hovered at Aiden’s side during their earlier confrontation.

  The moment Aiden noticed Kael, his face lit up with a wide smile. With unexpected energy he leaned forward, set his glass down, and rose to his feet.

  “Kael!” he exclaimed loudly, causing all the girls to turn. “I’ve been waiting forever!”

  “There was a lot of work today,” Kael replied, as though apologizing for his lateness.

  Aiden laughed—brightly, relaxed, with a hint of warmth:

  “No matter. Come, sit with me—let’s drink to our meeting!”

  He made a sweeping gesture, and several of the young women immediately perked up. Their eyes shifted to Kael—attentive, slightly narrowed, yet free of mockery. Instead, they glimmered with flirtatious warmth.

  “Lord Aiden already told us about you,” one purred, brushing a lock of hair behind her ear. “We’ve been waiting too, ha-ha…”

  “We’ve been waiting a lot,” another added, her tone carrying a touch more predatory charm.

  As Kael passed them, slender manicured fingers brushed his arm, shoulder, wrist—seemingly accidental, yet far too coordinated to be chance. Soft touches, light laughter, faint perfume—all part of the performance.

  But Kael’s expression remained calm, almost serene. No blush, no awkwardness, not even the shadow of a reaction.

  Aiden noticed immediately.

  For a moment he simply observed Kael, the corners of his mouth lifting slightly as a thought flashed across his mind:

  “At his age, this would’ve gone straight to my head…”

  Resting his elbow on the back of the couch, he spoke with a light smirk:

  “You surprise me, Kael. So many beauties here, and you’re perfectly composed. Don’t tell me you’re not interested in women?”

  Kael let out a soft laugh as he took a seat beside Aiden.

  He cast the young women a brief glance, allowing his smile to soften just slightly, and replied calmly, almost elegantly:

  “Like a garden of rare, enchanting flowers… each one beautiful in its own way.”

  The girls immediately brightened—one giggled, another tilted her head, a third whispered something to her companion.

  But then Kael turned back to Aiden, answering more seriously:

  “Of course I’m interested in women.”

  He paused for a heartbeat, then added:

  “But a man who isn’t master of his desires… is nothing more than a boy who hasn’t grown up yet.”

  For a moment, a still silence settled over the room.

  Aiden lifted a brow slightly, as if unsure whether to be offended or amused. Then a faint smile flickered at the corners of his lips, a spark lighting his eyes.

  He clapped Kael on the shoulder and said approvingly:

  “That’s a smart line, Kael. I’ll have to remember it.”

  Kael inclined his head politely, mirroring the calm courtesy—though inside, a brief, unpleasant jolt ran through him at the unwanted closeness.

  When Aiden’s hand settled on his shoulder, his muscles tensed on their own.

  He barely restrained himself from brushing it aside and revealing his irritation.

  “Not now,” he noted coldly to himself, keeping the same soft expression on his face.

  Aiden leaned back against the couch and waved his hand dismissively.

  “Hey, Slug!” he barked, his tone commanding. “Pour us some wine.”

  The boy behind him flinched as if struck and immediately darted forward, weaving around the couches with practiced haste. His movements were quick, nervous—the reflexes of someone trained for obedience. He picked up a bottle from a carved table, carefully uncorked it, and began filling the slender crystal glasses.

  Kael, watching, lifted a brow slightly.

  “Isn’t this what the staff is supposed to do?” he thought with cool curiosity, tracking the way the “Slug” tried not to spill a single drop.

  Aiden seemed to pick up on the unspoken question.

  He smirked and said with a lazily self-satisfied tone:

  “He’s my personal servant. Don’t worry about it.”

  Then, suddenly remembering something, he slapped his knee lightly and added in a tone of exaggerated apology:

  “Oh, right. I didn’t even ask—do you drink wine? You’re not even sixteen.”

  Kael snorted softly; a faintly mocking calmness slipped into his voice:

  “It’s fine. No one will see us.”

  Aiden burst into loud laughter—genuine, pleased:

  “We’ll get along just fine, Kael! My father forbade it, but I developed a taste for wine back in the Academy anyway.”

  The ‘Slug’ finished pouring and, bowing slightly lower than necessary, offered Kael a glass.

  Kael accepted it without fuss, looked him straight in the eye, and said simply:

  “Thank you.”

  The boy jolted, as though unprepared to be addressed directly, and hurried back to his post behind Aiden, fading back into a shadow once more.

  Aiden raised his own glass, but before offering a toast, he smirked and softened his tone:

  “You know, Kael… an older brother must take responsibility for the younger. So, as promised—accept my apology.”

  Still smiling, he extended his hand. Resting on his open palm lay a spatial ring—clearly expensive, adorned with fine engraving.

  Kael knew the Concentration Pills were inside, so he took the ring without even checking.

  “Thank you. Apology accepted,” he replied calmly.

  Aiden nodded with satisfaction, leaned back again, and lifted his glass.

  “Good. Then—to our new friendship!”

  Kael matched his tone—polite, even genial, wearing a light smile perfectly calibrated to seem sincere:

  “Yes… to our new friendship.”

  The glasses rang crisply as they met. Both drained them in one smooth motion, setting them down almost at the same time.

  Silence hung for only a heartbeat.

  The next instant, the violet curtain at the entrance quivered. First faintly, as if stirred by a draft—then more sharply, as though someone on the other side were trying to lift it.

  Aiden’s expression hardened at once; his gaze turned cold.

  “Slug,” he said sharply, without looking back. “See who dares to disturb our evening.”

  The Slug responded immediately and strode quickly toward the curtain.

  The guest tugged at the curtain harder, but it barely budged. It was obvious—the newcomer did not possess the “key.”

  And the moment the Slug pulled the fabric from inside, it yielded with a soft rustle, opening the passage.

  A short young man of about twenty burst inside.

  The first thing that caught the eye was his hair—emerald green, jutting upward and back in wild, uneven spikes like a feral beast’s.

  The second were his bright green eyes—sharp, defiant, openly challenging everyone present.

  He swept the hall with a quick glance, stopped on Aiden, and with a brazen grin shouted:

  “Hey, you arrogant beanpole! What the hell are you drinking without inviting me!?”

  The room seemed to freeze for a heartbeat—but Aiden didn’t get angry. On the contrary, he barked a short laugh and leaned back on the couch.

  “Oh, it’s just you, shorty,” he replied, lazily amused.

  The green-haired youth snorted, annoyed, and strode inside as if the place belonged to him by right.

  He flicked a hand at the Slug, shooing him aside, and closed the curtain behind him himself.

  “Khe-heh… Still sulking?” he asked with mocking smugness, turning with arms crossed over his chest.

  Aiden yawned and casually lifted his glass, parrying:

  “Oh, please… I only let you win so you’d whine less.”

  The green-haired man opened his mouth to retort when his gaze suddenly snagged on Kael.

  He frowned—narrow, thin brows drawing together.

  “And who’s this?” he asked, voice laced with a faint, sharp-edged aggression.

  Aiden proudly gestured toward Kael and introduced him:

  “This is my friend, Kael—one of Lasthold’s future stars.”

  The green-haired youth narrowed his eyes, lips twisting in a mocking grin.

  “A future star, huh?” he drawled, stepping forward. “So you’re strong, then? Feel like fighting?”

  The desire to ‘test the newcomer’ was plain in his voice. A few of the girls tensed, but from Aiden’s expression it was clear he had no intention of encouraging it.

  He scoffed, looking at his friend with irritated amusement:

  “Calm down, Arnevir. He’s only a Bronze Mage. He’s not even sixteen.”

  “Bronze?” Arnevir’s frown deepened, and something almost contemptuous slipped into his tone. “That’s your ‘future star’? I became a Steel Mage at that age.”

  Kael’s eyes narrowed a fraction as a quick chain of thoughts flickered through his mind.

  “Arnevir… so this is one of the descendants of the current head of the Ancient Roots Family. I didn’t know he kept company with Aiden.”

  Aiden, sensing the rising tension, sighed and explained:

  “Relax. Kael’s specialty isn’t combat. He’s a researcher. Heard of that new generation of spatial rings with expanded capacity?” He paused, pleased with the effect. “That’s his work.”

  Arnevir froze for a moment, squinting at Kael as though trying to recall something.

  “Right…” he muttered after a brief pause, grimacing as though forcing a memory. “I think I heard something like that…”

  For a second, interest flickered in his eyes—but the next moment, all curiosity vanished at once. Abruptly, shamelessly, he shoved himself between two young women and plopped down on the couch next to Kael.

  “Don’t care!” he declared, slapping the table with his palm. “Let’s drink!”

  Aiden barely managed to pull his glass back before it spilled, and Kael shifted just slightly to the side, his calm mask unbroken.

  But Arnevir didn’t stop there. Noticing the Slug circling the couch to take his place behind Aiden again, the green-haired youth smirked and grabbed him sharply by the collar.

  “Hey, where do you think you’re going?” he said with a brazen grin. “You’re drinking with us too!”

  Before the boy could utter a word, Arnevir yanked him hard enough for the poor Slug to fly over the back of the couch and landed squarely in the lap of one of the girls.

  “If your half-brother’s an asshole, that doesn’t mean I am!” Arnevir announced loudly, bursting out laughing.

  The Slug, still sprawled across the young woman’s lap, froze as though unsure how to breathe. His eyes darted around until at last they locked onto Aiden. Panic burned in them—the kind known only to those who’ve already learned the cost of a mistake.

  Aiden met that look and only let out a heavy sigh, rubbing the bridge of his nose in weary frustration.

  “Make sure our glasses never go empty, Slug,” he said in a steady but stern tone. “And don’t get too drunk. Or I’ll punish you.”

  The boy jolted upright at once, bowed awkwardly, and, clutching the bottle with both hands, started pouring wine, forcing his trembling fingers to steady. The girls giggled behind their fans, Arnevir grinned with obvious satisfaction, and Aiden once again lounged back, pretending everything was perfectly under control.

  Kael, watching the evening spiral toward chaos, narrowed his eyes ever so slightly.

  “Damn…” he thought. “Looks like this night is going to be far less peaceful than I expected.”

  He let out a quiet breath and, maintaining his courteous smile, steeled himself for the drinking to come. A faint glimmer flickered in his eyes—sharp and calculating.

  “Though… perhaps this works in my favor. Drunk young lords tend to say more than they should…”

  Shifting his gaze to the Slug, Kael added inwardly, “Maybe I’ll even learn something about this poor wretch.”