Chapter Twenty-Four

By the window, beneath a veil of white gauze, a frail figure was hidden within. Shadowmoon sat with her arms wrapped around her knees, her chin resting atop them, gazing quietly at the endless stream of cars on the highway, an indescribable emptiness filling her heart. She spent every day in the gentle company of Xi, her days flowing peacefully like the surface of a lake—uneventful, yet blissful. The thought of Xi brought a gentle curve to her lips, a smile tinged with happiness, though a fleeting trace of loneliness glimmered in her eyes, so brief that even she failed to notice it.

Suddenly, the shrill ring of the telephone shattered the silence of the room. “Hello,” she answered, and on the other end came a cheerful voice.

“Shadowmoon, it’s Xi. Let’s go for a drive tomorrow. You’ve been busy with work lately—you deserve a break.”

Her lips curved again. “Alright.”

“I’ll come pick you up tomorrow.”

The night wind whispered outside, and deep within the forest, a castle stood ablaze with light, its halls teeming with moving shadows.

The grand hall, resplendent with luxury, was illuminated by a dazzling crystal chandelier suspended from the high ceiling, its light refracting across the proud, distant faces of the guests. Their conversations were quiet, but their words revealed their distinguished status.

In a room on the second floor—

“Arthur, have you truly made up your mind?” Maria’s face was clouded with worry, her green eyes brimming with concern and tenderness.

On a rhinoceros-hide sofa in the corner, Arthur lounged in a deep violet suit, a pale lavender shirt beneath, and a matching bow tie. His golden hair fell carelessly about his shoulders, his eyes half-closed, lips curled in a devilish, alluring smile. His legs were crossed elegantly, one fair hand resting atop them, the other drumming lightly on the armrest with slender fingers.

Maria gazed at the graceful, captivating Arthur, her eyes filled with undisguised adoration. Yet, as her gaze fell upon the violet suit, a flicker of loathing and malice flashed across her eyes.

At the sound of Maria’s question, Arthur lifted his eyes, and in an instant, the room seemed to blaze with light, vibrant and alive—no longer just a chamber of stale luxury.

“All you need to do is play your part,” he said coldly, the smile vanishing from his lips.

Maria shivered, a glimmer of tears flickering in her emerald eyes before she bowed respectfully. “Yes, Maria understands.”

Arthur looked down into the hall through the window, a sneer twisting his mouth. Maria followed his gaze, and a similar, mocking smile appeared on her face. Such hypocrites, she thought. They feigned indifference, chatting idly, but their eyes flicked incessantly toward the second floor, their curiosity barely concealed—it was almost laughable.

Down in the hall—

“Cliff, do you know why the Rivers family invited us to this banquet?” asked a man dressed in the fashion of a medieval noble, his expression severe and proud, a full beard framing his face.

“If even Baron Street doesn’t know, how would an insignificant nobody like me have any idea?” The young man’s reply was light and irreverent, and with each word, his mustache—like two twitches of a playing card king—quivered comically.

The middle-aged man’s face betrayed a hint of smug satisfaction at the mention of the baron’s title. Indeed, he took great pride in having been granted a barony by the queen, for he alone bore such a title in this hall. The others, though from old families, were mere nobles—how could they compare to him?

Nearby, a few people barely stifled their laughter as Cliff spoke and his mustache danced. Their shoulders quivered, but upon closer inspection, their faces remained stern and haughty, as though only with such solemnity could they display their noble status. After all, what true gentleman would stoop to mockery?

As for the baron, no one paid him much mind—his title was little more than empty decoration, and the lowest rank at that.

All around the hall, small groups chatted among themselves. The gentlemen were resplendent in their suits or adorned in imposing military uniforms. The ladies exuded elegance—some stately and refined, others in classic vintage styles, still others fresh and fashionable.