CHAPTER 214: THE SERPENT’S SMILE [1]

"So, Mr. Valemont, you liked the tea?"

Clink.

The porcelain cup clinked softly as Cedric set it down, steam still rising from the bitter tea.

He didn’t like it. Not even a little. It was far too strong for his taste. But he smiled anyway. A polite, practiced curve of the lips.

"Yes, Miss Valentine. It’s... refreshing," he said.

Across from him, Lady Elara Valentine tilted her head slightly, amusement dancing in her brown eyes.

She looked every bit the noble daughter you’d expect. Beautiful, poised, and dressed in a deep emerald gown that probably cost more than most people made in a year.

Her hair fell over her shoulders in soft waves, and her smile never faltered. She was charming. Elegant. Graceful.

And Cedric hated every second of this.

’Fuck you, Kyle.’

This was the eleventh time—eleven times—he had to sit in one of these godforsaken meetings, pretending to be someone else.

He wasn’t Cedric right now. He was "Kyle Valemont."

The disguise was thanks to a face-altering artifact. White hair, sharp blue eyes, and that calm, unreadable face that Kyle always wore.

The disguise wasn’t perfect.

A Gold-rank mage or someone with deep mana perception could see through it.

But in a place like this? No one here would be able to tell the difference.

The cafe was quiet and tucked away, far from Solvayne Academy. The kind of place where the music was soft, and the servers knew when to stay silent.

But none of that made this any easier.

He was tired. Tired of sipping tea he didn’t like. Tired of answering questions he didn’t care about. Tired of playing pretend for a guy who always found a way to avoid things like this.

’This is the last one,’ he told himself. ’It better be the last one.’

Kyle had promised he’d handle the next one himself. The twelfth.

Cedric didn’t believe him for a second.

He was going to punch him the moment he got back.

"So, Mr. Kyle," Elara said, her voice light, "do you have any hobbies?"

Cedric blinked.

Hobbies?

He had a few. Mostly things that left him sore, bruised, or out of mana. Training. Sparring. Spellwork.

But that wasn’t what Kyle would say.

"Swordsmanship," he said after a short pause. Kyle did use a sword. "And... reading."

’Reading? Seriously?’

Still, it worked. Kyle did read sometimes.

Elara seemed pleased. She leaned forward just a little. "Oh? What kind of books do you enjoy?"

Cedric froze for a second.

’Shit.’

All he could think was.

"Uh... historical texts. Strategy."

’Close enough’

Elara nodded, visibly impressed.

"That’s quite scholarly of you. I wouldn’t have expected that from someone with your... reputation."

’Reputation?’

Right. Kyle had a reputation now. After the Black Gate incident, and whatever else he’d gotten dragged into, people had started talking.

"Reputations can be misleading," Cedric said smoothly, repeating something he’d once heard Kyle say.

Elara laughed. A light, elegant sound. It didn’t feel mocking, more amused than anything.

’If only she knew.’

He took another sip of the lukewarm tea and forced himself not to grimace. It was awful.

This was his tenth meeting. Ten different noble girls. And every single time. The topic always circled back to Kyle.

He just didn’t get it.

Sure, Kyle was strong. He had that mysterious aura, the snowy white hair, the cold blue eyes.

The whole "silent prodigy" thing worked for him.

But Cedric was the one with the Valteri name. The Ducal House. The one raised with court etiquette, trained to represent nobility.

And yet, in every single meeting, the girls acted the same—polite, but distant. Uninterested.

With Kyle?

They couldn’t stop smiling. Couldn’t stop staring.

’What the hell does he have that I don’t?’

’Is it because of his face?’

"You’re quieter than I expected," Elara said, stirring her tea gently.

"The rumors made you seem more... intense."

Cedric blinked.

’Intense?’ Kyle was the most relaxed person he knew, until he wasn’t.

"Rumors exaggerate," he replied calmly.

Elara tilted her head, eyes narrowing just a little. "Or maybe you’re just good at hiding it."

’Oh no.’

He knew that look. That tone. He’d seen it ten times now.

The moment they started getting interested. Not in him, but in Kyle.

’This is why I hate these meetings.’

He needed to shut it down fast.

"Miss Valentine," he began, tone polite but clear.

"I appreciate the invitation, but I should be honest. I’m not looking for marriage. Not now. Maybe not ever."

That was the line Kyle had told him to use.

— "Reject them. Politely."

To his surprise. Elara didn’t even flinch.

"That’s fine," she said simply.

Cedric blinked. "It’s not you, it’s—wait, what?"

She smirked. "I said, that’s fine. I’m not looking for marriage either."

He stared at her.

’Then why are we here?’

Elara chuckled as if she’d read his thoughts.

"My father insisted. Said I should at least meet the famous Kyle Valemont." She shrugged casually.

"But I’ve got my own plans. Academy. Maybe the military. No time for husbands."

Cedric nearly sighed in relief.

"Oh. Good."

She raised an eyebrow. "Good?"

"I mean—uh, respectable."

Her laugh was louder this time, more genuine.

"You’re terrible at this, you know that?"

’Yes, I know’ he sighed inwardly.

————

Luna Starfrost stepped past the stone gates of the academy, the cold snap of afternoon wind brushing against her cloak.

Her boots crunched over the dry leaves scattered across the cobbled path. Her mind set on one simple goal. Gathering moonbloom herbs for her next alchemy assignment.

Of course, the errand hadn’t been hers to begin with.

Kyle and Reo had dumped it on her, as always.

’Idiots.’

She exhaled through her nose, tightening the strap of her herb pouch.

Lately, they’d barely even spoken. Kyle had practically taken up residence in the training halls, either honing his blade or passed out from exhaustion.

Reo wasn’t much better. Ever since that disaster of a virtual spar last week. He’d been throwing himself into spearsmanship drills like a man possessed.

She understood the feeling.

Kyle hadn’t even broken a sweat in that match. He’d dismantled the two of them so easily it had left a pit in her stomach. A cold one.

The kind that didn’t go away with time.

She’d started training harder, too.

There was no choice.

Cedric. Kyle. Eleanora. Cassian. Serena.

The top five.

They weren’t just students anymore. They were something else. Their names hovered over the rest of the academy like a banner.

Everyone had started calling them the "Big Five."

And Luna refused to fall behind.

She tucked the last of the silvery moonbloom sprigs into her pouch, the scent of crushed petals lingering on her fingers. Straightening, she stretched her arms overhead and glanced toward the sky.

The sun was low. Shadows crept across the path.

Growl

Her stomach gave a soft growl.

She blinked, and finding herself alone, she let out a short breath.

’No one noticed’

She hadn’t eaten since morning. Too busy chasing after herbs. Too busy trying not to fall behind.

’Should probably eat before heading back.’

Up ahead, just beyond the crooked edge of the street. A soft golden glow spilled out from a storefront.

The warm scent of baked bread and spiced tea drifted on the air, teasing her senses.

A café.

Tucked between an apothecary and a bookstore. It looked like something from a noblewoman’s lazy afternoon. Polished wood, glass windows aglow, soft lighting painting the inside gold.

The kind of place where people sipped tea with raised pinkies and spoke about politics they didn’t understand.

She wrinkled her nose.

’Not really my scene.’

But she was hungry.

As she stepped closer, something in the window caught her attention.

A flash of white.

She stopped.

Her eyes narrowed as they locked onto the familiar shape of snowy-white hair, catching the café light just so.

’Kyle.’

There, tucked away in the corner of the quiet little café, sat a boy she knew all too well.

A noble girl in an emerald-green dress sat across from him. Refined, delicate. Her laughter rang softly as she gestured with gloved hands, every movement graceful and measured.

Luna’s eyes narrowed.

’What in the world...?’

Kyle hated places like this. She still remembered the last time she’d forced him into one.

He’d grumbled nonstop, complained about the smell, gulped down his drink like it was poison, and nearly tripped over a chair trying to leave.

But now?

He was sitting calmly, sipping tea like he belonged.

No scowl. No sarcasm. No storm-cloud aura of irritation.

Just... sipping tea.

Luna didn’t step in.

Instead, she lingered outside, leaning back into the shadow of a storefront awning.

Watching...

The noble girl leaned in slightly, voice animated, hands fluttering midair like doves. It was the kind of conversation Kyle would usually roll his eyes at.

But this Kyle?

He was nodding. Listening.

A little too intently.

Luna’s brows crept lower, suspicion gnawing at her.

Five minutes passed.

Then it clicked.

The way he held his teacup—delicate, careful.

The way he smiled. Tight-lipped, strained. It didn’t reach his eyes. Not like Kyle’s usual lazy, lopsided grins that carried a smirk behind them.

And the tea.

Her gaze darted toward the pot on the table.

’Herbal.’

Kyle hated herbal tea. Said it tasted like warm grass. He only drank sweet tea—disgustingly sweet.

Her breath hitched.

’That’s not him.’

The thought struck like a slap. Unwelcome, but undeniable.

An imposter?

A spy?

Someone trying to smear his name?

She didn’t know.

She should call for backup. Reo. Anyone.

But that hesitation... it might be all the imposter needed.

She made her choice.

Spinning on her heel, she pushed the café door open. It slammed against the wall with a sharp bang that echoed like thunder in the quiet space.

Every head turned.

Frost bloomed across the floor with each step she took, weaving spiderweb patterns beneath her boots.

And then, their eyes met.

The boy across from the noble girl. The one wearing Kyle’s face, looked up.

For just a heartbeat, he froze.

And in that frozen moment, she saw it.

Panic.

Raw and real.

Got you.

"Kyle," she said, her voice colder than winter air. "We need to talk."

The boy in front of her stiffened. His mouth parted, words hesitating at the tip of his tongue before retreating in silence.

She didn’t want to make a scene in the café if her suspicion was wrong.

Beside him, the noble girl, glanced between them with a brow arched in curiosity.

"A friend of yours?"

The man swallowed.

"Uh—"

"Now." Luna didn’t raise her voice. She didn’t need to.

The silence that followed felt heavier than the dagger she carried beneath her coat.

He flinched, visibly.

And then, with a sigh that carried the weight of impending judgment. He slumped in his chair, gaze cast downward.

’...I’m dead.’

————

Outside.

The alley was cold and quiet. Mercifully empty. Luna didn’t wait.

The moment they were alone, she slammed him against the wall.

Stone met spine with a dull thud, and an ice dagger shimmered into existence at her fingertips, pressing against the soft hollow of his throat.

Her eyes narrowed.

"Who are you?"

The illusion wavered. Flickered.

And for a fleeting heartbeat, she saw through the lie.

Blue eyes—wide, panicked, unmistakably familiar, stared back at her.

"W-Wait, Luna—it’s me—!"

That voice.

That hesitation.

Her hand trembled.

"...Cedric?"

He winced.

"Hey, Luna."

There was a beat of silence between them.

"..."

"WHAT IN THE ACTUAL HELL ARE YOU DOING?!"

—

Five Minutes Later.

Luna was doubled over. Her laughter echoing off the alley walls like chimes in a storm. Her arms wrapped around her stomach, shoulders shaking uncontrollably.

"So—haha—Kyle tricked you into attending his marriage meetings?!"

Cedric’s face was a brilliant shade of crimson. "Shut up."

"You—pfft—you sat through eleven of them?!"

"I hate him." Cedric rubbed his neck. The memory of her ice blade still lingering in the ache of his skin.

"I hate him so much."

Luna wiped at the tears streaking down her cheeks, breathless.

"Oh, this is gold."

Cedric groaned, burying his face in his palms.

"If you tell anyone—"

"Oh, I’m telling everyone."

"Luna—"

"I’ll start with Cassian."

He groaned louder.

——————