As Damon's substitute aide, I stood behind him alongside his original aide while he greeted King Augustine. The grand hall gleamed under the golden light of countless chandeliers, their radiance casting elongated shadows across the polished marble floors. The murmuring of nobles and officials faded into a subdued hum as the King's sharp gaze settled on Damon first, his expression unreadable.
Then, his eyes flickered toward me.
A spark of recognition ignited within his gaze, the corner of his lips curving—not with warmth, but with something closer to intrigue.
"Aren't you the water mage?" he asked, his voice carrying the weight of authority, though beneath it, curiosity lingered.
I met his gaze without hesitation. "Yes, Your Majesty," I replied, placing a hand over my chest in formal acknowledgment. My words bore the appropriate respect, but my eyes remained steady—unyielding, offering no hint of submission.
A quiet pause.
