The dining hall of House Thorne gleamed beneath the soft glow of chandeliers. Gold-trimmed curtains framed tall windows, and the long table stretched across the room like a polished mirror of authority. The faint scent of roasted herbs and mana-infused candles filled the air.

Noel entered first, hands tucked into his pockets, followed closely by the four girls. All conversation stopped. Albrecht sat at the head of the table, posture straight as an iron blade, while the rest of the family—Serina, Mirelle, Kael, Damon, and Sylvette—turned to face them.

For a heartbeat, no one spoke. Then Elyra stepped forward with calm elegance. "Elyra von Estermont," she said smoothly, bowing her head slightly. "It's an honor to be received."

Elena followed with her usual grace, ears twitching faintly. "Elena von Lestaria, pleasure to meet you all."

Charlotte smiled warmly. "Charlotte, from the Holy Capital. Thank you for having us."

Selene kept her tone even. "Selene von Iskandar."

A brief silence followed their introductions. Serina blinked, visibly impressed, while Mirelle's gaze sharpened—half disbelief, half irritation.

"These are… your companions?" Mirelle asked slowly, turning her eyes toward Noel.

"Yeah," Noel said, voice flat.

Serina recovered first, smiling politely. "They're quite the distinguished company."

But Mirelle leaned forward slightly, her tone laced with poison. "I can't help but wonder—why turn down the proposals made to our sons, Kael and Damon, when they were offered? It would've been a much more… appropriate match."

Elyra exchanged glances with the others before answering coolly, "Because our families allow us to choose who we stand beside."

Charlotte's smile didn't falter. "And we chose Noel."

Sylvette smirked, leaning back in her chair. "See, Father? Even they get to choose. Maybe I should too."

Every head turned toward Albrecht. For once, his expression softened—not much, but enough to draw a collective breath from the table.

"You're right," he said simply. "You should choose for yourself."

Serina looked pleasantly surprised. Mirelle froze, the muscles in her jaw tightening.

Noel glanced toward his father, uneasy. 'What's gotten into him…?'

For a few seconds, no one moved. The words from Albrecht still lingered in the air, heavier than the silence that followed.

Even Sylvette blinked, surprised by her father's agreement.

Serina chuckled lightly, resting her hand on her daughter's shoulder. "You hear that? Seems like your father's grown softer after all these years."

Mirelle scoffed quietly, her voice sharp and dripping with restrained anger. "Softness is not what makes a leader. Freedom of choice sounds convenient when you've never faced the burden of duty."

The tension was instant. The faint clinking of silverware was the only sound until Albrecht finally set down his cup. "Enough, Mirelle," he said evenly, not raising his voice—but the weight behind it was unshakable. "Do not turn dinner into a scene."

Mirelle's lips pressed together, her eyes narrowing, but she said nothing more.

Across the table, Noel felt Elyra's fingers brush his hand under the table—a subtle gesture, quiet reassurance. He didn't look at her, but the contact grounded him.

Elena leaned slightly closer, her voice soft but curious. "Your father seems… different, doesn't he?"

Noel glanced toward Albrecht, who was calmly slicing into his food, his movements methodical as always—but there was something off about him. His tone, his words, even the faint curve of his expression—it was unlike the cold, distant man Noel had known all his life.

"Yeah," Noel murmured. "It's strange. He's… almost human tonight."

Charlotte covered her mouth to stifle a small laugh. "Almost?"

Noel shrugged faintly. "Let's not push our luck."

Selene's eyes flicked toward Albrecht, her tone measured but curious. "He was different during the Hunt too. Colder then, but focused. Maybe something's changed."

Noel hummed quietly, not answering. 'Changed, huh? Maybe. But it's not like I trust it.'

The calm didn't last long. Mirelle set down her fork with a sharp clink that echoed down the table. Her lips curved into a thin smile that didn't reach her eyes.

"So," she began, her voice slow and biting, "all of you came here… for him?" She gestured slightly toward Noel. "I have to wonder—why him?"

The words hung in the air like a blade. Serina shifted uncomfortably, while Kael and Damon lowered their gazes, trying to look invisible.

Elyra didn't hesitate. "Because Noel is Noel," she said simply, her tone steady, her gaze unwavering. "He doesn't pretend to be someone else."

Charlotte added softly, "He listens. Even when he doesn't say much, he understands what people need."

Elena leaned forward, eyes bright. "He doesn't chase power or glory—he does what needs to be done."

Selene was the last to speak, her voice quiet but certain. "He's… the only one who's ever looked at me without fear or pity."

The table fell silent again. Albrecht's knife stopped mid-air, and for a moment, even the flickering light of the candles seemed still. His gaze moved from one girl to the next, then finally settled on his son.

Noel met his eyes, unflinching. The old man's stare was sharp, measuring, but there was something else buried beneath it—something like reluctant respect.

"I see," Albrecht finally said, leaning back in his chair. "Then it seems my son has done something I never could."

Serina blinked. "And what would that be?"

Albrecht's lips curved faintly. "Earn loyalty without demanding it."

The statement left the room breathless. Even Mirelle couldn't think of a reply.

Noel didn't answer either. He just exhaled slowly. 'You're full of surprises tonight, old man.'

Sylvette broke the quiet first, tapping her spoon lightly against the table as if cutting the tension in half. "Well," she said with an exaggerated sigh, "since everyone's decided to stare holes through Noel, maybe we can talk about something else? Like—are there any handsome guys at the academy still looking for a girlfriend?"

"Sylvette!" Serina gasped, half-scolding, half-laughing as she touched her daughter's arm.

"What?" Sylvette replied innocently, grinning. "Father already said I can choose who I want. I might as well start looking."

That actually drew a small chuckle from Albrecht. "She has a point," he said dryly, sipping his wine. "Though I'd prefer if your standards were… higher."

Serina burst out laughing; even Kael and Damon cracked faint smiles.

For a few minutes, the hall was filled with something rare—warmth.

Only Mirelle sat still, her fingers tightening around her glass.

Her smile was stretched thin when she finally spoke. "Excuse me. The air here feels… heavy."

Without waiting for permission, she stood and glided toward the door, every movement graceful and restrained.

The moment she disappeared through the archway, Noir's voice brushed against Noel's mind like a whisper of shadow.

'Dad… should I follow her?'

Noel didn't move, only reached for his cup to hide the tension in his jaw.

'Yes,' he answered silently. 'Just in case.'

Noir's presence slipped from the edge of his shadow and vanished into the corridor.

Back at the table, Albrecht raised his glass slightly. "A toast, then. To guests who have brought unexpected peace to House Thorne—for tonight, at least."

Glasses lifted, smiles followed.

And yet, as the candlelight flickered across the long hall, Noel's thoughts wandered far from the table.

He felt it again—the same unease that had haunted him all week.

'This calm won't last…'

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