The palace reception was exactly what I hated.
Not because it was loud. Not because it was glamorous. But because it was polite.
Polite meant rules, meant smiles that did not match eyes, meant a room full of people who could ruin you without raising their voices.
By the time Eli finished tying the last button on my coat, I was already regretting every decision that had brought me here.
"This is the cleanest shirt you own," Eli said, tugging lightly at my collar. "Try not to bleed on it."
"I will do my best to avoid spontaneous tragedy," I replied.
Eli's mouth twitched. He was trying not to smile, and he was failing. He caught himself quickly and went back to looking serious, like a man who had learned that hope was dangerous.
"You are being summoned to a palace reception," he said. "Try not to start a war."
"Noted."
He hesitated, then lowered his voice. "Do you think the Duke will be there?"
I glanced at him. "Do you think the sky will be above us?"
Eli grimaced. "That bad."
"That predictable."
He did not argue. He just handed me my gloves, then stepped back like he was sending someone to an execution and did not know how to say goodbye without making it worse.
"Keep your head down," he said.
"That is becoming difficult," I muttered, and then I left.
The reception hall was not the grand ballroom from the banquet. It was smaller, meant for controlled gatherings rather than public spectacles. The ceiling was still high, the chandeliers still excessive, but everything was arranged in clusters, designed to force conversation and movement.
The moment I entered, I felt it.
Eyes.
Not everyone looked directly. Some pretended not to. Some stared openly because they did not care if I noticed. But the attention was there, pressing against my skin like heat.
I breathed in slowly and activated the new skill without thinking.
Not by command. Not by will.
Just by instinct.
Labels flickered at the edge of my vision as I scanned the room.
[Threat Level: Minimal]
[Threat Level: Low]
[Threat Level: Moderate]
[Threat Level: Low]
It was distracting, but useful. It made the room feel like a map. I could see where danger gathered, where it pooled, where it spread.
Then I saw one.
[Threat Level: High]
I followed the label and found Lord Harren standing near a column, speaking to two other nobles. He was smiling, but his eyes were flat. When he noticed me looking, the smile sharpened.
A promise.
I looked away before he could enjoy my reaction.
Across the hall, the Prince stood near a small group of courtiers, the center of them without trying. He wore a blue coat embroidered with gold at the cuffs, and he looked entirely too comfortable for someone who had almost died yesterday.
When he spotted me, his expression brightened.
He stepped away from the group as if it were nothing, crossing the room with the confidence of someone who never had to wonder whether people would make space for him.
"Viscount Damien," he said, voice warm enough to be heard. "You came."
"As you commanded," I replied.
"That makes it sound like punishment," the Prince said with a small laugh. His eyes flicked briefly to the bandage at my temple. "How is your injury?"
"I am still alive," I said. "So I suppose it is behaving."
His smile softened into something more genuine. "I meant what I said yesterday. I will not forget it."
"Yes, Your Highness," I said, because anything else would be suicidal.
He did not let me retreat into formality.
"I heard you were seen in the market district," he said lightly. "And that you assisted Lady Verne."
My stomach tightened.
So this was already circulating.
"I did not assist her," I said. "I pointed at a problem and she handled it."
The Prince's brows lifted. "That is a humble way to describe it."
"It is an accurate one."
He studied me for a second, then gave a quiet, amused sound. "You are different."
There it was.
The line that always came eventually.
"I was nearly arrested, nearly killed, and nearly ruined in the span of a few days," I replied. "It would be strange if I remained exactly the same."
The Prince laughed again, but it was softer this time, and it drew more attention than either of us needed.
I could feel heads turning. Not dramatic. Just subtle.
The room shifted.
The Prince did not seem to notice.
Or he did not care.
"Walk with me," he said, and began moving before I could refuse.
I followed, because refusing the Crown Prince was a wonderful way to die.
As we walked, he spoke casually, but his eyes were sharp.
"You were always loud," he said. "Always eager to be seen. Always eager to prove something."
"I was young," I answered, choosing my words carefully. "And foolish."
"And now?"
"And now I am still young," I said. "But at least I am attempting to be less foolish."
The Prince smiled. "That is improvement."
We stopped near a balcony door where the air was cooler and the crowd was slightly thinner. It was still public, but less suffocating.
He turned toward me fully.
"I want you near me," he said.
The words were not romantic. Not intentionally. But they landed with a weight that made my back tighten.
"Your Highness," I began.
He raised a hand, cutting me off with an easy motion.
"Not as a pet," he said, and then his smile turned almost mischievous. "Although I suspect half the court believes I am collecting you for amusement."
I stared at him. "That is a horrifying sentence."
The Prince laughed again. "You are sharp today."
"I am trying to stay alive," I replied.
He watched me, then lowered his voice slightly. "Lord Harren is furious."
"I noticed," I said.
"I removed him for a reason," the Prince continued. "But he will not let it go. Others will not either."
"I am aware," I said, and forced myself not to glance across the room.
The Prince's gaze followed mine anyway.
And there he was.
Darius.
He had entered quietly. No announcement. No fuss. No need. The room had reacted to him in the way bodies react to cold. Conversations shifted. Postures adjusted. A respectful space opened around him without anyone being told.
He stood near the far side of the hall, speaking to an older noble in formal, minimal sentences.
But his eyes were not on that noble.
They were on me.
I did not need the system to tell me anything, but it flickered anyway when my gaze found him.
[Threat Level: Extreme]
I swallowed hard.
The Prince noticed my tension, and his expression changed. Slightly more serious.
"You know him well?" he asked.
"No," I said quickly.
That was a lie. It was also the safest answer.
The Prince hummed softly, like he did not entirely believe me, but he did not press it.
Instead, he did something worse.
He stepped closer.
Not in a scandalous way. Not in a way anyone could accuse him of. But close enough that his next words were private.
"There will be a royal ball this Saturday," the Prince said. "You should attend. The court enjoys a good dance."
I blinked.
"I already received the invitation," I replied, trying to sound neutral.
"I am glad," he said. "I want you there."
"Why?" The question slipped out before I could stop it.
The Prince's smile returned, slow and thoughtful. "Because you are interesting."
That word again.
I did not like it coming from anyone powerful.
"You are also useful," he added casually.
I stared at him.
He said it like it was a compliment.
"I would advise you not to say that out loud," I replied.
He laughed. "You are the only person in this room who speaks to me like a person."
"That is because everyone else wants something," I said.
"And you do not?"
I opened my mouth and then closed it again, because the truth was complicated.
I wanted survival, distance and enough money not to be hunted by debt collectors. I wanted to avoid becoming a convenient pawn in a romance plot I did not ask to be born into.
But I could not say any of that.
So I settled for the safest version.
"I want to avoid making mistakes," I said.
The Prince's gaze softened. "Then stay near me."
My skin prickled, and it had nothing to do with the cool air.
Across the room, I felt Darius's attention sharpen.
I did not look at him again. I refused. Looking felt like permission.
The Prince patted my shoulder lightly, friendly, thoughtless, and then stepped away to greet another noble, leaving me standing alone near the balcony door.
I took a slow breath.
This was not manageable, instead it was a trap dressed as favor.
I turned slightly, intending to retreat to the edge of the room, to disappear again, to become background.
The moment I moved, the world flickered.
A cold blue glow cut across my vision.
Not softly. Not politely.
It snapped into place like a blade.
[New Quest: Attend the Royal Ball and secure a dance with a high-ranking noble.]
I froze.
The reception hall remained the same around me, but the system screen felt like it had dropped a wall between me and the world.
I stared at the words.
Royal Ball.
Dance.
High-ranking noble.
My stomach turned.
I did not dance. I did not survive court attention. I did not survive spotlight.
I had spent the last few days doing everything I could to avoid this.
And the system had just shoved me toward it with both hands.
The screen flickered again, as if the system itself had hesitated.
[Time Limit: 3 Days]
My heart began to pound.
"Not now," I muttered under my breath.
A passing servant glanced at me as if I had spoken to him.
I forced my face into neutrality and looked away.
The screen did not vanish.
It stayed.
Worse, another line appeared beneath it, and the text looked slightly distorted, like ink smeared while wet.
[Failure Penalty: System Malfunction]
I stared.
"What does that even mean?" I whispered.
No answer.
Only the faint flicker of the blue light, unstable now.
It reminded me of a lantern flame in wind.
A malfunction. A break. A system that was already limited deciding to become unpredictable.
That was not a penalty, but a threat to everything I was relying on.
My throat went dry.
I forced myself to breathe, slowly, evenly.
Okay.
Think.
A royal ball meant the entire court.
It meant eyes, danger from every direction and that even if I succeeded, I would be seen doing it.
And if I failed, the system could do anything.
Take away skills. Lock quests. Drop penalties at random. Sabotage me when I needed it most.
A small sound escaped me, halfway between a laugh and a curse.
"Of course," I muttered.
Because why would my new life be simple?
The system screen flickered once more, the words briefly blurring before sharpening again.
[Quest Active.]
The blue light vanished as abruptly as it appeared.
I stood there for a second longer, steadying my breathing and forcing my expression back into something passable.
When I lifted my head, the first thing I saw was Darius.
He was no longer speaking to the older noble, instead watching me directly.
No pretense.
No distraction.
Just observation.
He had seen something. Maybe not the screen, but the shift in my posture. The moment of stillness. The slight loss of control.
He took a slow step forward, and I felt my spine tighten.
Not yet.
Not here.
Not now.
I turned away before he could approach fully and walked toward the nearest exit like a man who had simply grown bored of the reception.
My pace remained calm.
My mind was not.
By the time I reached the corridor outside the hall, I was already rehearsing the next disaster.
A royal ball.
A dance.
A high-ranking noble.
And a system that had just threatened to break if I failed.
Somewhere behind me, laughter rose again from the reception hall.
It sounded too normal.
Too safe.
It made my skin itch.
Because I knew what was coming.
And for once, the danger was not just the Duke, or the Prince, or a rival noble waiting to strike.
It was my own system.
And it had decided I belonged in the spotlight.