At the end of the corridor on the east side of the hall, there was an inconspicuous small round table.
On the table sat a half-empty glass of wine, its rim stained with light red wine residue.
In the armchair beside the table, a woman in a deep purple dress was leaning back against the chair back with an air of nonchalance.
She appeared to be in her mid-twenties, well-maintained, with no fine lines at the corners of her eyes, but her lazy, slightly weary expression made one feel at a glance that there was an intangible distance between her and this banquet.
However, at this moment, she was just an inconspicuous bystander at this gathering, with no interest in this assembly of frivolous young nobles.
She had originally planned to finish this glass of wine and then take her leave early.
Until the moment that silver-haired maid stepped into the hall, her hand holding the glass paused almost imperceptibly.
Silver-white short hair, ice-blue eyes, expressionlessly following behind that Bastard Young Master, her steps as light as a cat treading in the shadows.
That maid seemed to have noticed her watching. Their gazes met briefly across half the hall, through interwoven figures and the light of crystal chandeliers.
Just for an instant, like two beams of light that intersected and then diverged, the maid naturally looked away and returned to a straight-ahead, unblinking demeanor.
She picked up her glass, took a sip, and silently recited in her mind: ‘Oh dear, I’ve been found out.’
She confirmed that she had never seen this silver-haired demi-human before, nor did she even know that the Casitian family had such a maid.
Using tear-inducing powder while engaging in close combat, she had taken down two Academy mages in succession. Not long after, that Bastard Young Master was left holding a wand, backed into a corner and looking disheveled.
It had been a long time since she had encountered someone so perceptive at a banquet.
She leaned back in her chair, couldn’t help but laugh, and then muttered to herself in a low voice:
“At least it’s a bit more interesting than I imagined, not so boring that I’d fall asleep.”
A voice came from the front side. Cedric, holding a glass of wine, had somehow freed himself from the crowd’s encirclement and was walking toward her.
With a proper and enthusiastic smile on his face, he sat down in the chair beside her:
“I thought you might prefer a livelier spot. Shall I have someone bring you a different bottle of wine?”
“No need. I just came to show my face.”
Feiwen put down her glass, her tone as casual as if discussing the weather.
“This banquet is well organized. Even though I’ve only been sitting here a short while, I’ve already enjoyed quite a few good shows.”
“You flatter me. It’s just some exchanges between the younger generation.”
Feiwen slightly turned her head, her gaze passing over Cedric’s shoulder and once again landing on that silver-haired maid.
“That maid—is she from your family?”
Cedric was slightly stunned, followed her gaze for a look, then frowned:
“She’s not from the main family. She’s a maid brought along from Fengyue City.”
Feiwen nodded thoughtfully.
“I see.”
After a brief silence, Cedric put down his glass and, as if suddenly remembering something, casually added:
“By the way, have you still been taking those commissions? Are you still in touch with the people you used to know?”
Feiwen’s fingers stopped on the rim of her glass.
She looked at Cedric’s profile and immediately determined that those words were not just casual small talk.
“Young Master Cedric, since when did you start concerning yourself with my career?”
She let out a laugh, a hint of mockery in it.
“Just asking casually.”
Cedric spread his hands with a smile, but didn’t directly point at anyone.
“After all, in the Royal Capital, more friends mean more paths.”
Feiwen squinted.
“Spit it out.”
Cedric’s tone became cautious:
“I previously had a connection with the Night Owl, and hired a few people to handle some minor troubles in remote areas. But that connection has been cut off recently. The people I sent to investigate haven’t reported back in a long time.”
Feiwen raised an eyebrow, seemingly unsurprised that the name “Night Owl” appeared in such a setting.
“You’re talking about Graves, aren’t you? He left the Night Owl this month. He should have left the Southern Region by now and no longer answers to his former organization.”
She looked up at Cedric, her smile still gentle, but with an unmistakable sense of distance.
“Young Master Cedric, this was just an employment relationship. I was merely the intermediary who made the connection. Whether the hired person is reliable or not is something the employer needs to verify themselves. You can’t put all the blame on me, can you?”
Cedric gritted his teeth but didn’t retort.
“You’re right. I did not think this through properly.”
Just then, a low and oppressive commotion came from the center of the hall.
Cedric and Feiwen turned their heads simultaneously.
Taunts rose one after another. In the center of the hall, the final round came to an end.
Edwin walked steadily out of the shadow smoke that had not yet fully dissipated.
His pace was unhurried, not a speck of dust on his shoulders. The layer of blue magic power swirled around the blade once, then quietly faded away as if its mission was complete.
He sheathed his sword, producing a crisp, sharp metallic clash.
“A good strike.”
He looked down at Leo, who was kneeling on one knee, gasping heavily, his tone devoid of any mockery, as if simply stating a fact.
“If the concentration of that shadow smoke had been raised another level, it might have worked wonders in actual combat.”
Leo gasped for air, sweat trickling down from his temples along his cheeks.
He knelt, his knee pressing against the cold floor tiles, but he did not fall at the final moment.
However, the noble offspring were not about to let him off easily.
The very ones he had just defeated using those unseemly methods were now the loudest, as if trying to reclaim their lost face with interest.
“This kind of fighting and he calls himself a Mage? Anyone would think it was a street brawl.”
“Relying on powder and sneak attacks to win two rounds, and he thinks he’s hot stuff?”
“What skill is there in using close-combat tricks? He was exposed the moment he faced someone who has actually trained in swordsmanship.”
“I really wonder how the Casitian family could have such a…”
“Enough.”
Edwin’s voice was not loud, but it overpowered the murmuring voices.
He turned and glanced at the young men who had spoken; he said nothing more, but they wisely fell silent.
Leo did not listen to those comments. He supported himself on his knees, barely steadying his body, his chest heaving violently, the ringing in his ears slowly receding.
He had won the first two matches and lost the last one; the result wasn’t too shameful.
But he truly had no magic power left.
His legs were going weak, and the edges of his vision began to blur with white light.
Edwin, being the closest, instinctively reached out a hand to help him.
He took a step forward, intending to walk back on his own, but his knee suddenly gave way.
But one hand was faster than Edwin’s.
A white-gloved hand firmly caught Leo’s shoulder, the force just enough to support his body that was about to collapse.
Ailiya had somehow already passed through the crowd and stood beside him, as if she had never left his side from the beginning.
Edwin’s hand froze in mid-air. He glanced at Ailiya, seemed to ponder for a moment, then withdrew his hand without saying anything more.
Ailiya tilted her head slightly and nodded to Edwin.
“My sincere thanks, Lord.”
“Since the sparring session has concluded, and my young master is unwell, allow me to take him to rest first.”
Leo looked up. In his blurry vision, that familiar cold face was right in front of him.
He opened his mouth to say something, but his throat was too dry to produce a complete syllable, and in the end, he only managed one hoarse sentence:
“…How did you come over?”
Ailiya did not answer his question. She gave him a once-over. Her gaze was calm and swift, as if conducting a damage assessment, then she spoke flatly, her voice not loud but as clear and cold as water.
“You can’t even stand steadily, yet you still have time to worry about others. Young Master, your talent for saving face at the expense of your own suffering is far greater than I anticipated.”
After saying that, she added another sentence:
“Stand up straight. Don’t collapse here. I don’t want to be accused of mistreating my master.”
Leo was taken aback. Then he let out a laugh. The laugh was very soft, tired and helpless, but the corners of his mouth lifted slightly.
“…Understood.”
Under the gaze of those around him with complex meanings, he steadied himself with her support and walked step by step through the crowd.
No one had expected that in this situation where everyone was waiting to see a joke, the first to come forward was neither that enthusiastic third brother nor any of the guests, but that demi-human maid who had been standing quietly in the corner, regarded by most as part of the background.
Ailiya supported Leo’s arm and walked away from the center of the hall step by step.
Those gazes were like fine needles, falling on them from all directions, carrying scrutiny, contempt, curiosity, and a few measuring looks with unclear intent.
Leo’s breathing was still rapid, and his steps were unsteady. But he said nothing and didn’t stop to rest. He just gritted his teeth, matching her pace, step by step through that path that seemed twice as long as when they had come.
Until they passed through the side door and entered the corridor leading to the garden. Those gazes and the discussions were finally blocked behind the heavy door panels.
The corridor fell silent. Only the interweaving footsteps of the two remained, along with the faint murmur of the banquet in the distance.
“Ailiya.”
“Mm.”
“You’re wonderful.”
His voice was very light, carrying the hoarseness of relaxation after exhaustion, as if he had finally shed some burden.
Ailiya did not answer immediately. She continued supporting him for a few more steps before speaking:
“Didn’t someone say that if he got knocked down, I should drag him back?”
She tilted her head slightly and glanced at his disheveled state.
“It seems that if I don’t actually drag you on the ground, you’ll develop some unnecessary misunderstandings about my work standards.”
Leo was taken aback, then burst into laughter. The laugh tugged at his rib wound, making him hiss and inhale sharply, but he still couldn’t stop smiling.
“That works too.”
“Hehehe… you’re wonderful. If it’s you, dragging me along is fine too.”
Ailiya responded expressionlessly:
“Given the current state of your rambling nonsense, I roughly conclude that you might have been knocked silly by your opponent in the sparring just now. You need a dose of calming and refreshing potion.”
“No need for potion. I’ll sober up if you say a few more words, Ailiya.”
“Then I’d better stay silent, to avoid aggravating your rambling sickness.”
Leo already understood. This woman knew the barely concealed glee in his words, and as always, used her sharp tongue to shut down the topic.
But he didn’t mind. He was used to it.
In that overwhelming sea of comments and gazes, only she had walked through the crowd and firmly supported him.
That was more important than winning any sparring match.
As the two walked down the steps, the night breeze blew in their faces, carrying the scent of the trimmed lawn and night-blooming jasmine from the garden.
Leo did not look back at the brightly lit hall, nor did he try to find Cedric’s or anyone else’s expression in the shadows of the windows behind them.
He just followed beside Ailiya along the stone path they had come from, heading toward the carriage parked outside the garden.