CHAPTER 63: CHAPTER 63: THE BALL(7)

The ballroom quieted as the Master of Ceremonies stepped forward, staff in hand.

The chandeliers dimmed just slightly, allowing the glow of the golden platform to draw all attention to the front of the great hall. Musicians lowered their bows, and the air settled into anticipation.

Min-jae lifted his chin, his expression smooth, gaze forward, posture composed. Even with nerves curling soft and careful in his stomach, he would not show it.

He refused to let anything, past, present, or imagined future..shake him now.

Meical watched him for a moment, intending to say something reassuring, but Min-jae stepped forward before he could..ignoring him.

He didn’t need reassurance.

He was Kim Min-jae and he wasn’t going to let anyone crush him.

The Master of Ceremonies raised his voice, deep and commanding:

"Announcing His Majesty, King Radomir Volkovich Dragomirov, Sovereign of Aldoria!"

The doors opened in shimmering fanfare.

The king entered wearing no mask, only a crown of cold-cut garnets and silver. His presence was quiet but absolute.

A respectful hush washed through the hall.

Then—

The Master of Ceremonies spread his arm toward the line of masked women, each standing poised at the base of the dais.

Their gowns glittered differently beneath the light, embroidered silk, beaded veils, feathered trains, structured sleeves, rivers of chiffon.

Every one of them, a walking lineage.

"By ancient tradition.." the Master of Ceremonies declared.

"the face of a bride is not displayed until her name is honored aloud. Let each reveal herself to the court with dignity befitting her house."

The hall fell into reverent silence.

"Princess Kalyani Devi of the Royal House of Rajanya, from the Kingdom of Vasantnagar."

Kalyani stepped forward.

She lifted her hands gracefully and removed her golden mask revealing her warm, amber eyes. She lowered into a Namaskara, her palms pressed, head bowed. Jasmine blossoms in her hair released a faint floral scent into the air.

Moving the the next person, the master of ceremonies continued.

"Princess Laleh Aramzad of the House of Aramzad, Kingdom of Sarashan."

Swathed in deep wine silk, Laleh removed her mask with slowly, revealing strong brows and a gaze like dusk behind a veil of thought.

She bowed with one hand over her heart, the other extended slightly forward. Then she moved to the corner, while Gilbert, the master of ceremonies continued.

"Grand Duchess Yelena Mikhailovna Sokolova of the Winter Court of Velgrad. A woman praised for her military excellence. In the midst of men, she’s a proud commander.."

Yelena stepped with the calm of someone who ruled snowstorms. Her mask came away like ice melting from stone, revealing a face sculpted in cold beauty. She gave a short, sharp bow, one used by military officials.

Min-jae stroked his chin, she would make a fine ally, even in the novel Kaizar always lacked military backup.

"Princess Amaru Yana Qori of the Clan Yana Qori, Kingdom of Queyllarí." Gilbert called out.

Her mask, feathered and bright, was removed with the same proud tilt of chin.

She pressed her palm to her forehead, then chest, a warrior’s greeting of respect, not submission. The silver condor feathers in her hair shimmering.

"Lady Eleanor Ashworth of House Ashworth, Kingdom of Lynthaven."

She removed her lace mask shyly, cheeks touched by natural blush, and dipped into a deep, soft curtsy, delicate as a falling petal.

"Lady Syris Whitfield of House Whitfield, Dominion of Cressmont."

Her mask came off with a practiced motion. A perfect smile. A curtsy calculated to exact degrees of charm.

"And finally, Princess Adesewa Aremu of House Aremu, The Olorun Empire."

Her mask was carved bone and gold beads; when she lifted it away, she revealed bright, intelligent eyes. She gave a slow, commanding bow, chin still high.

The music swelled, a gentle tide of sound that filled the hall. The brides’ unveiled faces brought a weighty anticipation, a sense of being sized up and measured.

The Master of Ceremonies raised his staff, and the room fell silent. "The bride candidates will now mingle, under the watchful eyes of the court. Speak, greet, and show us your virtues." A polite way of saying: perform, and be chosen.

Min-jae scanned the ballroom, a sea of nobles in elegant motion. Silks rustled, fans fluttered, and perfume hung heavy in the air. Eyes watched, their gazes like fingers on skin.

Meical’s voice was a low whisper, his breath warm against Min-jae’s ear. "Stay close. You don’t need to impress anyone."

His hand brushed Min-jae’s waist, a fleeting touch that sent a shiver through Min-jae’s veins.

Min-jae nodded, his heart beating faster.

He’d read about these events, watched them unfold in the novels he’d devoured. But to be here, in the midst of it, was a different story altogether.

The silk and pearl encasing him felt like armor, but he knew it was just a fragile shell.

Radomir’s black hair was bound back by a thin silver clasp, and his military-cut coat shimmered with metallic thread. His presence was a study in contrasts - neither cold nor warm.

He greeted nobles with a faint, polite smile, his eyes sharp and assessing. Until they landed on Min-jae.

His gaze stopped, and his brow furrowed in curiosity. Who was this tall figure in deep red silk, with poised posture and refined features? Not the prettiest person in the room, but the most composed.

Radomir was drawn to her quiet confidence, his attention narrowing to a single point.

Meanwhile, Min-jae struggled to breathe normally, feeling like a decorative statue. He also tried to ignore how bad his ribs hurt.

Meical turned to speak to a visiting Marquis, his hand lingering on Min-jae’s back.

"I’ll be only a moment.." he said, before being swept away by duty and diplomacy.

Min-jae nodded, confident he could handle standing and looking pretty for two minutes.

Probably. But Radomir had began crossing the ballroom, his strides long and purposeful.

Min-jae saw him coming, their eyes meeting briefly across the crowd. Min-jae’s instincts screamed "nope."

Without hesitation, he stepped away, moving with a fluidity that allowed him to slip between the crowd and break eye contact.