Chereads / The Low-Class Noble, With The Crimson Eyes / Chapter 7 - Chapter 7 | A Dance With Nobility

Chapter 7 - Chapter 7 | A Dance With Nobility

The grand hall of the Lavelle estate gleamed under the light of a thousand candles. Nobles from all across the region gathered, their laughter and polite conversation masking the tension that simmered beneath the surface. Noir stood at the edge of the room, his eyes scanning the crowd. He could feel the weight of their stares—some subtle, others not. This gathering wasn't just a social event; it was a battlefield, and he and Lilia were the ones being evaluated.

Noir adjusted his posture, reminding himself to stay calm. This world of nobles was unfamiliar, but the rules of survival were the same as in his past life. The key was control, and Noir intended to stay ahead of the game.

…..

As Noir made his way through the crowd, he was approached by a young noble girl from House Vale. She was tall and elegant, with a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. She looked down at Noir, her lips curving into a smirk.

"You don't seem quite like the threat everyone says you are," she said, her voice laced with condescension.

Noir blinked up at her, his expression neutral, but his mind was already at work. She was two years older, clearly accustomed to having the upper hand in conversations like this. But Noir wasn't about to play the part of the intimidated child.

"Threat?" Noir tilted his head, his voice calm. "I wouldn't say I'm much of a threat at all. But then again, it's strange to make threats when they're nothing but empty words." His smile remained polite, but his eyes flickered with a dangerous glint. "After all, House Vale should know better than anyone what happens when threats aren't backed up with action."

Her smirk faltered for a split second, and Noir could see the realization dawning in her eyes. He was referring to the recent attack on House Lavelle—an attack that House Vale had likely played a part in. She recovered quickly, though, and returned his smile with a sharper edge.

"We'll see about that," she said before turning away, but not without a final glance, as if sizing him up once more. The older nobles hadn't caught the subtle exchange, but the members of House Vale had. Noir could feel their eyes on him, watching closely. He smiled to himself. Let them watch.

…..

The gathering continued, and Noir moved through the sea of nobility with a practiced ease. He was introduced to several key figures—lords and ladies from powerful houses, each with their own agendas. Every conversation was a dance of words, each one carefully crafted to hide true intentions. Noir listened more than he spoke, taking in their measured tones and weighing their meaning.

"Lord Darien of House Torvald," one noble introduced himself, his smile cold and calculating. "It's a pleasure to finally meet the young heir of House Lavelle."

Noir inclined his head slightly, keeping his own expression neutral. "The pleasure is mine, Lord Torvald," he said, giving nothing away.

They exchanged pleasantries, but the real battle was taking place beneath the surface. Every question, every comment was a probe, a test of his resolve and intelligence. Noir navigated the conversations with care, revealing as little as possible while gathering as much information as he could. These nobles were playing a dangerous game, and Noir intended to come out on top.

…..

Across the room, Noir caught sight of Lilia. She was moving through the crowd, her face composed, but Noir could see the strain in her eyes. She was struggling under the pressure, the weight of representing the Lavelle family bearing down on her. Several nobles were subtly testing her, pushing her to see how she would respond.

Noir made his way over to her, but instead of offering comfort, he leaned in close and whispered harshly, "You're going to cause this family to fall apart if you keep showing weakness."

Lilia's eyes widened, and she turned to face him, her frustration evident. "What are you talking about?"

Noir gave a small shrug. "You're the one who accused me of endangering the family, but from where I'm standing, it looks like you're the one who's going to drag us down. You need to keep it together."

Lilia's mouth opened, but no words came out. Noir continued, his tone softening just slightly. "Just because you're young doesn't mean you need to carry a burden that was never yours in the first place. Relax, Lilia. I'm sure everything will be fine." Then, with a sharp grin, he added, "Besides, after everything that's happened, I've never felt better."

His sudden shift from harshness to humor threw Lilia off balance. She frowned at him, clearly irritated by his attitude, but she didn't say anything more. She knew he was right, even if she didn't like admitting it.

…..

Later, as Noir continued to mingle, a noble approached him with a friendly smile, offering a glass of wine. Noir accepted the glass, but as he lifted it to his lips, a faint, unusual fragrance caught his attention. It was subtle, but something about the scent was off. Noir had spent years around dangerous substances—he knew when something wasn't right. His mind raced, piecing together the situation in an instant.

He lowered the glass, keeping his expression neutral. The noble watched him closely, perhaps expecting him to drink, but Noir had other plans.

"You know," Noir said, his tone casual, "I've always wondered about underage drinking. I mean, I'm still quite young, don't you think? Maybe I should hold off on the wine for a few more years." He smiled as he handed the glass back to the noble. "Why don't you drink it for me? After all, it wouldn't do for me to indulge too early."

The noble blinked, clearly caught off guard. "Oh, no, I couldn't possibly—"

Noir cut him off, his voice still light but with an edge of insistence. "Please, I insist. I've only just recovered from a serious illness, and I wouldn't want to risk my health so soon. I'd feel much safer if you drank it, just to be sure."

The noble's face tightened, and Noir could see the tension in his jaw. But with so many eyes on them, he had no choice. With a forced smile, the noble took the glass and lifted it to his lips. Noir watched as he drank, his own smile never wavering.

"Thank you," Noir said softly as the noble finished. "I feel better already."

The noble's eyes flashed with something dark, but he quickly excused himself, disappearing into the crowd. Noir watched him go, his own heart steady. He had turned the tables, and now he knew there were more dangerous forces at work than he had initially realized.

…..

As the night wore on, Noir's keen senses picked up on subtle shifts in the room. Overheard conversations, glances exchanged between certain nobles—something wasn't right. It didn't take long for Noir to piece together the truth. The gathering was more than just a political event. It was a cover for something darker, a conspiracy aimed at bringing down House Lavelle.

Noir's mind raced as he pieced together the fragments of conversations he had heard. Someone, or perhaps several someones, was planning to destabilize his family. The attack on their estate was only the beginning, and the gathering was the perfect place to make their next move.

But Noir wasn't about to let that happen. He would need to act quickly, and carefully. The game had become far more dangerous, but he had played dangerous games before. This was no different.

…..

Noir began to notice something else—how the nobles communicated without words. A glance, a nod, the slightest shift in posture. These were the unspoken agreements that governed their world. Noir had seen similar signs in the underworld, where silence could speak louder than words. Now, he was learning to read these cues, and it gave him an advantage. He was no longer just an observer in this game—he was becoming a player.

…..

As the night drew to a close, Noir stood near the edge of the hall, his eyes scanning the room one last time. The danger hadn't passed, but he was ready. He had faced threats before, and he would face them again. House Lavelle wasn't going down without a fight—not while he was still standing.