"H... Hero...?"
The maid's voice was a barely audible breath, a flicker of confusion crossing her veiled features. My heart skipped. I had to stop talking to myself before I accidentally spoiled the entire plot to the staff.
"You can go ahead," I cut in quickly, trying to sound authoritative. "I will follow after changing my clothes."
She bowed deeply, her hands still trembling slightly, and began walking ahead to the dining hall.
Phew~
I ducked back into my room and practically dove into the wardrobe. It was a massive, filled with enough silk and gold thread to fund a small country.
I began tossing hangers aside. Everything was over the top—heavy velvet capes, double-breasted tunics with gold-plated buttons, and waistcoats that looked like they weighed ten pounds.
"I don't like wearing multiple layers of clothes," I grumbled, my Pakistani roots craving a simple lawn kurta instead of this medieval tuxedo.
I kept searching, throwing aside a feathered hat and a pair of boots with literal silver spurs, but I couldn't find anything humble.
I was starting to get disappointed, but then my eyes fell on a plain wooden box tucked at the very bottom of the wardrobe. A small piece of white fabric was snagged in the lid.
I pulled it out and opened the box. Inside was a crisp white shirt—no ruffles, no gold—and a pair of dark blue trousers.
"Finally. Something normal."
It felt surprisingly high-quality, though a bit thin. I changed as fast as my body allowed, ignored the mirror, and hurried toward the dining hall.
Just like the morning, everyone was seated in their designated spots. But the head of the table was empty.
'I can understand that Aries is not here after that beating, but what about the King?'
And what was with the silence? Every head turned as I entered. Why was everyone looking at me like I was some kind of main character? I should be the guy people actively avoided looking at.
Scanning the table, the sheer variety of the Aragon lineage struck me for the first time. It wasn't just Elena's crimson or Aries's gold. I saw siblings with deep sapphire eyes and silver hair, others with red irises and charcoal locks.
I didn't notice it the first time.
'Is this a dragon family or a rainbow?'
Whatever. I wasn't here for a color palette study. I walked toward my empty chair—the one at the far end, naturally—and sat down. The meal was as extravagant as breakfast, with roasted meats and exotic fruits, but I couldn't even pick up my fork.
'Why am I feeling a sudden chill?'
The temperature hadn't dropped, but the air felt heavy, like it was thickening into lead. My arms and back broke out in goosebumps. I instinctively moved my hands to cover my arms, trying to rub away the cold.
'What is happening?'
Don't tell me this is the "Killing Intent" I've only ever read about in novels? The kind that makes your skin feel like it's being pricked by a thousand needles?
I looked toward my siblings. I checked Alvis, the eldest. He just caught my eye, offered a polite, shallow smile, and went back to his steak as if nothing was wrong. None of my siblings seemed to be the source; they were mostly focused on their plates or quiet whispers.
That left the head of the table.
I shifted my gaze to one of the two women sitting near the King's empty throne: The Vampire Queen. Her expression wasn't just cold—it was vibrating with a silent, predatory anger.
She was looking at me with a level of disdain so sharp it felt like it was physically slicing through my new white shirt.
Her red eyes weren't warm like Elena's; they were the color of dried, crusty blood. I think I got exactly what she wanted to say without her uttering a single word.
'You survived the fire, little rat, but don't get high on your luck. You're still just prey.'
Suddenly, a wave of sudden, suffocating pressure washed over me.
I gasped and quickly broke eye contact. I didn't need a "Sense" ability to know that if I kept staring into those blood-red pits, I'd probably forget how to breathe entirely.
'I will just eat and get the hell out of here.'
I shoved a piece of meat into my mouth, but it tasted like ash.
Still, I forced myself to swallow and continued eating, staring at my plate as if it were the only safe harbor in a storm.
"You have changed your style, Rio," I heard Elena's voice drift from my side. I looked up, trying to form a response—anything that sounded normal—but before I could even get a syllable out, another voice cut through the air like a serrated blade.
"It suits him. After all, a weak and lowly dog shouldn't try to dress in silk when its skin is destined for the dirt anyway."
Urg.
It felt like I'd just taken a direct hit.
[Laila Aragon | 22 | Half-Sister]
She sat with her back perfectly straight. Her silver hair was tied in an intricate knot that made my head hurt just looking at it. Her eyes, a piercing shade of sapphire, didn't even look at me; she was busy cutting a piece of venison and filling her mouth.
"Simple clothes for a simple mind," she continued, finally glancing up. The look in her eyes wasn't the fiery hatred of Aries or the predatory hunger of the Vampire Queen; it was pure, unadulterated boredom. To her, I wasn't even an enemy—I was an eyesore that had somehow avoided being cleaned up.
"It's quite an improvement, actually," Laila mused, a cruel smirk playing on her lips. "At least now, when you eventually crawl back to the gutter where your mother's blood belongs, you won't have to worry about staining the royal velvet."
The table remained silent. No one jumped to my defense. Not even Elena. It was as if they were all watching a show, waiting to see if the "New Rio" would snap or just tuck his tail between his legs like he always did.
I gripped my fork so hard my knuckles turned white.
'Stay calm,' I told myself. 'She's just a 2D character in a 3D world.'
"I find that the lighter the clothes, the easier it is to move," I said, my voice steadier than I expected. I didn't look at her. I just took another bite of the ash-tasting meat. "Especially when you're busy defeating geniuses."
Laila's fork paused in mid-air. The sapphire eyes narrowed. I could practically feel the temperature in the room drop another ten degrees, and for a moment, the sound of silverware against china completely ceased.
I could feel everyone's gaze burning onto my face. I'd just done the one thing the "old" Rio never did: I'd talked back with a sting.
"Defeating geniuses?" Laila's voice was a low, dangerous purr. She set her fork down with a slow, deliberate click. "Aries was careless. He treated a duel like a training session and tripped over his own pride. Do not mistake his embarrassment for your talent, Rio."
She picked up her fork again like nothing had happened.
"Know your place, Rio," she said calmly.
"That's the only thing keeping you alive."
The table returned to normal.
The sound of cutlery resumed.
Conversations restarted.
But something had changed.
No one looked at me with disgust anymore.
They were watching me.
Measuring.
Waiting.
…Like I had just stepped onto a stage where every role ended in death.