The city of Aurelian was beginning to stir as Lysander made his way downstairs to the grand hall. His mansion, perched atop one of the city's highest hills, overlooked the sprawling metropolis below. He gazed out of the enormous windows that lined the walls, watching as the streets slowly filled with people most of them ordinary citizens, toiling away in their daily lives, never quite measuring up to the standard of beauty he had set.
It was a familiar sight: the common folk moving in a dull procession. They walked with hunched shoulders, their faces drawn and dull, as if the weight of their own imperfection burdened them with every step. Lysander smirked, turning away from the window. The lesser classes had no idea what it meant to truly live, he thought, his chest swelling with pride.
As he descended the grand staircase, a parade of servants greeted him with their usual reverence. They bowed their heads, their gazes lowered as they awaited his instruction. Lysander acknowledged them with a half-smile, barely lifting a finger to signal his approval. To him, they were as invisible as the air he breathed, mere accessories to his magnificence.
His personal servant, a young woman named Elara, approached with a tray of fresh fruit and a silver goblet filled with sparkling wine. She lowered her head before presenting it to him, her voice soft as she spoke. "Good morning, Master Lysander. Your breakfast is prepared."
He took the goblet without a word, inspecting it with the precision of a connoisseur. The glass caught the light just right, the liquid inside shimmering like liquid diamonds. He drank slowly, savoring the taste as if it were a reflection of his own superiority.
As he placed the goblet back onto the tray, he noticed Elara's eyes were lingering on him for just a fraction of a second longer than was appropriate. She quickly looked down, but something in her gaze seemed different. There was a shadow in her eyes, something Lysander couldn't quite place. He raised an eyebrow, but said nothing. She was just a servant, after all.
"Is there anything else, Elara?" Lysander asked, his tone almost disinterested as he leaned against the marble counter.
Elara hesitated, her hands trembling slightly as she handed him a small, intricately designed envelope. "There is an invitation for you, Master Lysander. It arrived this morning."
Lysander took the envelope with a lazy flick of his fingers, his curiosity piqued. Invitations were rare especially ones that arrived so early. He opened it without ceremony, and his eyes skimmed over the elegant script inside. The words were written in gold ink, almost glowing as they caught the light:
"You are cordially invited to a secret gathering of Aurelian's most esteemed individuals. A chance to witness a new world, one beyond beauty. The ball will be held tonight, under the veil of darkness, at the Silver Crescent. Do not bring your vanity, for it may be your downfall."
Lysander chuckled softly to himself. "A secret gathering? How intriguing." He tossed the invitation aside casually, though something about the words lingered in his mind. Do not bring your vanity. A smile tugged at the corner of his lips, but he quickly smothered it. No one would dare challenge him. He was Lysander Valeris—perfection embodied.