The dining hall grew silent as soon as Ace of the first-years stepped inside.
The air thickened and the atmosphere turned almost oppressive. Conversations halted, replaced by an uneasy tension that spread like wildfire.
It was as if the world itself was bowing to his presence.
And as everyone froze in their spots, the Ace strode in with the comfortable confidence of someone who owned the place.
Draped in a crimson coat over all-black attire, he pulled off the perfect balance between mystery and sophistication.
His golden hair gleamed under the chandeliers like ethereal threads woven from sunlight, and his bright eyes held a captivating glint to them that wouldn't allow you to look away if you met his gaze.
His gaze itself wasn't piercing — it was dismissive.
It was the gaze of someone who genuinely believed to be above this lowly world. Like a king in a court of jesters.
He walked with such effortless arrogance that it felt as if the ground itself was worshiping him for being graced by his footsteps.
And yet, despite the air of superiority that hung around him, no one could bring themselves to hate him.
How could they?
His striking features and enigmatic aura left people captivated. They were entranced by his mere presence.
They didn't see arrogance. No, they saw divinity.
After all, who else could be so beautiful if not an angel descended from the heavens?
That was what they all thought at that moment.
…Or at least, that's how I imagined it would go.
The reality? Well… it was disappointing.
The commotion didn't die when I entered. It just grew louder.
"Boo! We hate you!"
"Samael, go back! Samael, go back!"
"I'd sacrifice my firstborn just to see the Golden Duke rearrange your smug face again!"
"Your firstborn? I'd sacrifice my girlfriend!"
"I'm his girlfriend, and I agree to be sacrificed!"
Wow. They really hated me.
I couldn't help but wonder why.
Oh, well.
Shaking that thought out of my mind, I ignored all the boos and the increasingly creative insults being hurled my way.
I held my head high, shoulders squared, and moved toward the banquet tables with the dignity of a king walking to his throne — well, that's what I told myself.
"Look at him! He's pretending we don't exist!"
"No, no, that's not it. He's used to this kind of hatred."
"Is it bad that I kind of respect that?"
I didn't flinch. I didn't falter. After all, what kind of self-respecting Ace lets a mob of overzealous amateurs ruin his night?
Only when I reached the tables did I finally glance at the crowd, arching an eyebrow as if saying, Your opinions are beneath me.
It worked — sort of.
Half of them grew quiet.
The other half started chanting again.
I sighed and reached for a plate.
•••
No one could believe their eyes.
The Ace was booed and insulted.
But instead of acknowledging the crowd, retaliating, or even reacting in his usual coldly superior way… he simply started stuffing his face with food.
Not just nibbling, either. Full-on feasting.
When the crowd realized their provocations weren't getting the dramatic response they'd expected, they grew silent and eventually drifted back to the party.
Samael, however, remained entirely focused on his plate. He kept shoveling food into his mouth.
"Oh, gawd~!" he moaned softly and rolled back his eyes in exaggerated bliss. "This food is simply delicious!"
"Can you… not eat here?" came an irritated voice.
Samael glanced up lazily, his mouth still half-full. "I'm sorry, did you arrange this party, or did I do it?"
"You didn't do anything! Your Shadow did!"
"She did it on my behalf," Samael countered, punctuating the point by licking his fingers.
"Argh!"
The frustrated young man trying to shoo him away was none other than Michael Godswill — the protagonist himself.
The black suit he was wearing looked cheap and rented, but it still didn't tarnish Michael's natural charisma — much to Samael's annoyance, the protagonist looked quite good.
"Yeah, you orphan bastard!" a third voice cut in, dripping with venom. "If you have a problem, you move from this spot!"
The foul-mouthed guy who had yelled all that was Jake Mel Flazer, Samael's so-called childhood best friend.
Dressed in a pristine white tuxedo with a black bow tie, he looked… slightly less ugly than usual.
"I did move! Thrice!" Michael snapped. "But he keeps following me around for some reason! And why the hell are you sticking your nose in here?"
Jake gasped. "What did you just say to me, you pig?"
Michael crossed his arms. "Take a good look at yourself in the mirror, Jake, and see the irony of calling me a pig."
"Okay, you two idiots, shut it," Samael finally stepped in after finishing whatever he was eating. "This is a high-profile party. Act accordingly. Maintain decorum. And Jake, stop cursing."
"S-Sorry, Sam," Jake mumbled, instantly chastised.
Michael, on the other hand, flushed red with anger. "You can lecture me about decorum when you're done eating like a slob!"
He wasn't wrong. Samael's lower face was covered in gravy, crumbs clung to his tailored coat, and he had practically licked his plate clean.
"Ah, right. Where are my manners?" Samael said, suddenly straightening up. He dusted himself off, wiped his face with a napkin, set his plate aside, and casually grabbed a glass of wine.
In mere seconds, he was back to looking like a highborn prince straight out of a fantasy story.
Alexia, who had been standing by the table along with the three of them, let out a soft sigh.
"Boys," she said, her voice full of exasperation, "I'm flattered you're all keeping me company on this lovely evening. But could you all go bicker elsewhere?"
Michael shot one last glare at Samael and turned his attention back to Alexia.
She looked quite beautiful tonight, her soft brown gown with frilly white accents framing her slender form made her look every bit of a young noblewoman she was.
No one would guess that this elegant lady could fight like a ruthless, bloodthirsty savage.
Michael, however, knew better. And that's why he had sworn to stay as far away from her as humanly possible.
…At least, that had been his plan — until the Grandmaster awarded her an interesting Card during the ceremony this morning.
It was called «Visual Link».
It allowed the user to create a link with a willing ally, effectively letting them see through that ally's eyes.
…Well, not quite.
It wasn't like physically seeing through someone else's eyes.
It was more like watching a vivid movie of their perspective whenever you closed your own eyes — as if you were spectating them in first-person.
It was a useful Spell Card — except Alexia couldn't make use of it at all.
Because she was blind.
Michael, on the other hand, desperately needed it for reasons… he couldn't quite disclose.
That's why the moment Michael spotted Alexia at this party, he approached her.
He had been trying to negotiate with her all evening, but progress was slow — largely because Samael had appeared out of nowhere and hadn't stopped hovering around them ever since.
Taking a deep breath to steel his resolve, Michael ignored both Samael and Jake. With every ounce of self-control, he refocused on Alexia.
"Lady Zynx, as I was saying—"
"Don't call me that," she interrupted sharply. "Lady Zynx is what people call my mother. Just use my name."
Michael clenched his jaw, lingered for a heartbeat, then nodded. "Right. Lady Alexia, as I was saying, the «Visual Link» Card is of no value to you. In its place, I'll offer you both of my Cards I received this morning. How about it? Two Cards in exchange for one!"
Two same-grade Cards in exchange for one that was practically useless to its holder.
Honestly, it wasn't a bad deal.
If it was Samael in Alexia's position right now, he definitely would've taken that sketchy yet totally favorable trade without a second thought.
…Which was probably why he was scammed more times than he cared to admit in his past life.
Unfortunately for Michael, it wasn't Samael in Alexia's place.
"Yeah, okay, dear. I'm going to have to reject your offer. Again," Alexia said dismissively, waving a hand like she was swatting away an annoying fly as she took a casual sip from her glass of… orange juice?
At a party brimming with the finest wines and smoothest whiskey money could buy, she was drinking… orange juice?!
Samael blinked. 'Seriously?'
Then it hit him — it actually made sense.
In the game, it had been revealed that, despite her brash and fearless demeanor, Alexia had almost no worldly experience.
She'd been sheltered her entire life, locked up inside her family's estate by her overprotective parents.
Her conceited boldness and narcissistic confidence made it easy to forget, but the truth was, she probably hadn't even been to a proper party until now.
It was tragic, really.
Samael might've even felt a pang of pity for her if she wasn't a devil incarnate.
Regardless, she was the devil he needed to strike a deal with tonight. Preferably right now. He had already wasted enough time.
He was starting to fear Michael might actually convince her if given enough time. Though, right now it didn't look like it.
"But why are you rejecting my offer?" Michael pressed, his tone a complicated mix of desperation and frustration.
Alexia didn't bother looking at him. "Because I don't need more Cards. I've already got enough to build five Decks. I know what Cards you received at the ceremony, and let's be honest — they're nothing I don't already own."
Her tone was so casual, so indifferent, it was practically a slap in the face.
Samael seized his chance. Stepping forward, he cut off whatever pitiful argument Michael was about to make.
Offering Alexia his hand, he said, "Lady Alexia, this party is beginning to drag. Would you care to join me for a walk outside? Some fresh air might do us both some good."
Alexia turned her head toward his voice, lingering for a moment before shrugging. "Sure. It's starting to feel a bit stuffy in here anyway."
Without so much as glancing at his extended hand, she brushed past him, leaving Samael to stand there awkwardly.
He frowned before it dawned on him. 'Right. She's blind. She didn't see my hand.'
Sighing, he followed after her.
But just as he moved, Michael's voice snapped from behind him. "Hey! I was talking to her, you asshole!"
Michael took a step forward, intent on following them, but Samael subtly gestured to his friend.
Jake understood his cue immediately and stepped in front of Michael to block his path.
"You've been acting way too full of yourself lately, Godswill," Jake said, folding his arms.
Michael scowled. "I don't have time for this. Move!"
Jake smirked and slapped his own chest. "Make me."
The bickering erupted into full swing, giving Samael the perfect opportunity to step outside with Alexia.
'Sometimes,' he thought as he followed her, 'having friends like Jake really pays off.'