Daniel

There was a theory Daniel had once heard—half joke, half metaphysical assertion—that the universe didn't punish arrogance.

It punished momentum.

And apparently, he had accumulated too much of it.

Because for one brief, shining moment, everything had actually been going… well.

Shen Minhua was brilliant.

Terrifying, yes. But brilliant.

Their conversation had flowed like good wine over a forged table—steady, balanced, with just enough edge to keep it interesting. She hadn’t flattered. She hadn’t condescended. She spoke the language of mana-tech with fluency and subtle emphasis, citing Ethan's unpublished work like it had been her thesis defense.

And she was gorgeous.

Objectively.

He hadn’t intended to notice. Really.

But then there she was—Shen Minhua, standing in front of him in a gown threaded with runic micro-lattices, confidence stitched into every line of her posture.

And Daniel, at the end of the day, was still a man.

He hadn’t lingered.

Just a glance. One glance.

The kind that short-circuited rational thought for a moment and dumped him backward in memory—back to undergrad when he was still on earth. Back when he’d first transferred into the engineering program at Cal Tech. He’d been seventeen, awkward, too smart and too uncertain, and there was this one girl in his advanced materials course—half Iranian, maybe Israeli, he couldn’t remember exactly—who looked like she belonged on a Vogue cover, not in a nanotech lab. She had this habit of chewing on her pen when she was thinking and speaking in perfect, breathless logic that made him forget how to form full sentences.

It had taken him three months to say anything that wasn’t a stutter around her.

Shen wasn’t the same. Not exactly. But she carried that same weight. The kind of presence that didn’t require ornamentation. The kind of beauty that made you forget, briefly, that you were a person with thoughts.

She used it to her advantage too. She could probably give Marissa a run for her money in the pure body department. And Marissa had once declared herself the undisputed champion of “distracting necklines.”

Daniel had behaved himself. Mostly.

And she hadn’t seemed to mind.

Then the convesation took over and Daniel was entranced. The idea of a closed-door symposium—actual academic discourse without the stuff keeping Imperial Scholars’ breath on his collar—was enough to make Ethan almost lose it right there. For a few seconds, he had allowed himself to imagine what it would be like to just… talk about theory. Not war. Not demons. Not survival.

Just glyphs. Logic. Vision.

And then—naturally—everything shattered. It started with the shift in ambient mana.

Most people wouldn’t have noticed. But Daniel did and it seemed to becoming easier.

The weight of the ballroom didn’t increase.

It refined.

Like the resonance of the air had been tuned a half-degree tighter. Like something perfectly balanced had entered the equation. The background murmur dropped, not in volume but in confidence—conversations pausing, not from fear, but recognition.

Daniel’s breath caught and then came the voice. The voice was nice, clear and amplified by an unseen glyph that echoed across the Imperial Gala. The voice wasn't shouted but proclaimed.

The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

That should have been his first hint that things were about to change.

“By decree of the Ascendant Throne and witness of the Nine Noble Pillars of the Empire, Her Highness, Princess Sophie Virelyn, daughter of Heaven’s Line and Keeper of the Concord Flame, enters.”

The following could have given a Taylor Swift concert a run for its' money. Magic was really cool. Every light recalibrated, imaging made of pure mana appeared and dance across over the heads of the raptured crowd. The chandelier’s sent out beams of light highly resembling lasers out in every direction as they danced across the mirrored floor like ripples across water.

He turned with all the other eyes in that room, and saw her.

Everything suddenly went still. Princess Sophie Virelyn descended a massive ornate staircase in silence. She was veiled—double-layered silk cascading from a crescent clasp, obscuring everything but her eyes.

But those eyes…

Golden. Not like generic yellow. Actual gold the shade of a bullion or the sun overhead. A color that belonged to the gods or ancient flame.

She moved like she didn’t need the room to acknowledge her. Like acknowledgment would be an insult. Her gown was a study in quiet power—deep violet robes scribed with what looked like celestial grammar, the kind of notation that didn’t belong on fabric but on star-forged stone.

And the mana responded to her.

It flowed differently. Curved around her like water around glass.

Two attendants followed at a respectful distance. One from the Royal Archive. The other from the Observatorium. Both carried scrolls. Neither made a sound.

Sophie did not glance at the Crown Prince.

She didn’t so much as acknowledge the Tower delegation.

She walked, calm and precise, straight toward him.

Daniel felt Ethan stir faintly in the back of his consciousness.“…What’s happening?”

“I don’t know,” Daniel muttered mentally. “But I think we’re about to be the main character again.”

Sophie reached him. She paused and watched him for long moment. If he didn't know better he would have thought she was smiling under the veil. After what felt like a lifetime but couldn't been more than ten seconds, with voice low and even, she said, “You’re shorter than I imagined.”

Daniel blinked. Ok that he was not expecting.“Excuse me?”

She tilted her head. “Your work suggested arrogance. Most arrogant men are taller.”

Daniel raised an eyebrow. “That’s one way to start a conversation.”

“I was told your feedback cascade model was dangerously unstable,” she said. “I disagreed. I thought it was elegant.”

“…Thank you?”

“I’m still evaluating the rest of your assumptions,” she continued. “But I’d like to ask you a few questions.”

He hesitated. “Now?”

Sophie nodded once. “Unless you have a better time. While we talk—would you dance with me?”

Daniel’s brain short-circuited.

He barely managed, “I—what?”

“Dance,” she said again, as if that was a perfectly reasonable thing to say in front of half the court.

“I—yes?” he said, almost asking himself. He righted himself.

Get your shit together Daniel. Was that Ethan talking or his own inner thoughts. He didin't know anymore.

Daniel stood straighter and then bowed. "I would be honored to dance with you Princess."

She offered him her hand.

The music shifted—on cue. Like the world had been waiting.

Daniel stepped forward and took the Princess' hand. But before he could take a step chaos answered.

A voice cut through the gathered hush. “You will not.”

Daniel turned as the crowd rippled.

Dathan of House Leren stepped forward from the royal wing, face red, voice tight with fury only barely masked by etiquette. He wore a duel-embroidered sash over formal robes and the look of a man who had been waiting for an excuse.

“You would take her hand?” Dathan said, tone sharp enough to carry. “Before the court? With no rite? No sanction? You, an orphaned functionary of a provincial line?”

Daniel froze.

Oh boy, Ethan whispered.

“I only took what was offered” Daniel said evenly.

“You stood there and accepted a favor beyond your station,” Dathan snapped. “Do you think the Empress’s silence is approval? That she would indulge presumption in place of order?

The crowd stiffened. The Empress, with her model face, didn’t move. She simply watched. He couldn't tell if she was bored or amused. Maybe both?

Daniel tried REALLY hard not to laugh. He was only partially successful. What came out was a sort of giggling. The kind where you end up snorting while trying to keep it in.

Dathan raised his right hand, gloved in silk and mana-thread. The mark on the glove glowed across the wrist as he flashed his the back of the same hand like he was trying to show off a fancy watch.

"A duel challenge mark," Ethan whispered trying not to distract Daniel

Daniel spoke inwardly. "They have a mark and gloves specifically for duels that he just happen to be wearing?? You have to be kidding me? Who does that?"

"Welcome to the Empire."

Dathan stood tall, proud and stupid. “I challenge you, Ethan Zhou. For conduct. For honor. For presumption.”

Daniel opened his mouth. Then closed it.

Then opened it again.

“Are you serious?” he asked.

Dathan stepped closer. “You’ve insulted her. You’ve insulted me. And now you insult the rite?”

“I just said yes to a dance.”

“You say it like that wasn’t treason.”

Sophie said nothing and he did not know her. But something told Daniel that she was just as confused as he was. But she didn’t flinch. Didn’t stop him. She simply watched not her fiancé' but Daniel.

"WTF Princess I have nothing to do with this?"

"Hey Daniel you remember that whole seduction thing we talked about--"

"Ethan shut up!"

A court official stepped forward, already unspooling a scroll. The duel challenge was being registered.

Daniel watched it happen in real-time, standing on the mirrored floor of the most important ballroom in the Empire.

He exhaled slowly.

“Well,” he murmured.

“Here we go again.”