CHAPTER 516: ’MONICA SERENESON.’

Florian didn’t care about the king of Serenson. Not really.

Yes, King Marius carried himself with the kind of dignity yet he also seemed humble—the broad shoulders. But Florian’s gaze slid past him almost instantly.

He couldn’t deny, however, that Athena bore her father’s features. The line of his jaw, the soft clarity in his gaze—it was there in her, softened by her youth, but unmistakable.

Still, that was... irrelevant.

There was also Hendrix. Of course, Florian already knew Hendrix.

He was very familiar with Hendrix.

The crowd’s hushed murmurs swelled when he entered, and Florian caught the way Heinz’s grip on his arm tightened, firm enough to ground him.

A reaction. Florian’s chest tensed, catching the subtle shift of power in that small gesture.

It was obvious Heinz was the one who was affected by Hendrix’s presence the most, but he did try to conceal it.

But no. Even that wasn’t what seized Florian’s attention.

It was Monica Serenson.

The moment her figure glided into the light, Florian’s breath stalled. The nobles around him seemed to lean forward unconsciously, as if drawn in by something they couldn’t name.

She didn’t just enter the room—she commanded it. The sweep of her gown, the deliberate grace of her steps, the faint tilt of her chin—it was all effortless, the kind of elegance born of both bloodline and ambition.

She was one of the few names that had bled into Concordia’s darkest histories. The woman whispered about through the halls of the Diamond Palace. The shadow in the halls of the old palace—the obsession of the previous king.

The same woman Heinz loathed with a hatred so deep it was almost legend.

Florian’s pulse thudded.

’She...’

She looked different from what he expected.

Her eyes—bright pink, unmistakably the same as Athena’s—shone beneath the chandeliers.

But her hair... oh, her hair was a sheet of midnight black, a silken fall that framed her face like polished obsidian. It lent her an intensity, a striking edge that set her apart from her niece.

If Hendrix looked like anyone, it was her. The same sharp cheekbones, the same commanding presence—though hers was wrapped in poise, while his was sheathed like a blade.

Monica Serenson was beautiful. Gorgeous, in the way that demanded silence.

Her elegance was not dulled by time; if anything, it was sharpened, refined. Even in her maturity, she outshone the jeweled gowns and painted faces of the younger nobility with ease.

And Florian couldn’t help but think—if her eyes had been a shade darker, she could have been mistaken for an Obsidian herself.

’No wonder King Henry was obsessed with her.’

The thought slipped unbidden through Florian’s mind as he watched the Sereneson family come to a halt before him and Heinz at the foot of the staircase.

The air shifted. A ripple passed through the crowd like a breeze through tall grass, whispers swelling as nobles leaned toward one another, their fans half-hiding parted lips and scandal-bright eyes.

"She actually showed herself here...?"

"Did His Majesty truly invite her?"

"To think she would still come here after... everything."

"Prince Hendrix I could understand... but her?"

Every word brushed against Florian’s ears like daggers, sharp and eager. He was certain Monica heard them as well, yet her poise didn’t falter.

Her gaze rose steadily, and when her bright pink eyes found his, she smiled—warm, almost disarmingly so, as though none of the venom around them could touch her.

Marius Serenson, her elder brother and the King of Tranquilis, was the first to move. He stepped forward and bowed his head low, his sapphire robes pooling like water against the marble.

Monica and Hendrix followed seamlessly, bowing with practiced grace, the hall falling into a tense silence at the gesture.

"King Heinz," Marius began, his voice carefully measured, though Florian caught the faint tremor beneath the words, "I am truly honored to be invited here. To reunite with my dear sister, my dear nephew and, of course..."

He turned his head, his gaze softening as it landed on Athena within the crowd. "...my one and only daughter. It is truly a night to be remembered, and all thanks to you and His Highness, Prince Florian."

’His voice is shaking.’

Florian’s eyes narrowed slightly, though he was not surprised.

’He knows. He knows Heinz is the one ensuring Tranquilis suffers. He’s bowing to the very man tearing his kingdom apart.’

Heinz gave no illusion of courtesy in return. "It is a delight to have you all here as well," he said flatly, his tone plain, unpolished—so very clear in its disdain.

He didn’t bother pretending, didn’t even attempt to soften the blade of his dislike.

And Florian hated it. The coldness, the sharp dismissal—it grated against him, an insult laid bare before all.

So, he smiled.

Lifting his chin slightly, Florian let his voice ring clear, smooth enough to ripple through the hall. "It is truly wonderful to meet you. Athena is a great friend of mine, and to meet her family at last is nothing short of an honor as well."

The effect was immediate. Monica’s smile deepened, her eyes glimmering with something unreadable—pride, amusement, perhaps even approval.

"I have heard many good things about you, Prince Florian," she said, dipping once more into a graceful curtsy, her gown whispering against the marble floor. "And now that I meet you... I can tell every word spoken of you is true."

Florian’s lips curved politely, though a flush prickled faintly at the back of his neck.

’Ah. Right, Hendrix did say he told Monica about me.’

Awkward, but there was no way to refuse the compliment. He smiled regardless, his eyes shifting almost involuntarily toward Hendrix.

The prince was staring at him. His dark cloak framed him in shadow, but his gaze—sharp, steady—was fixed entirely on Florian.

"Might I say," Hendrix began, his voice low but carrying across the silence, "you look very lovely tonight, Prince Florian—"

But he didn’t finish.

Heinz’s voice cut through like steel unsheathing, a single edge striking the tension apart.

"What gift have you brought for Florian?" he demanded, his eyes landing on Marius, ignoring both Monica’s smile and Hendrix’s words as though they were beneath him.

"O–Oh, of course." Marius recovered quickly, lifting a hand to gesture behind him. From the shadows of the open doors, armored figures stepped forward.

Florian blinked in surprise. He hadn’t even noticed they had knights with them.

At first glance, they looked like knights—helms polished, spears at their sides—but the longer he stared, the more wrong they seemed.

Their armor wasn’t reinforced, their pauldrons sat loosely, and their clothing beneath looked dangerously thin. As though they’d been dressed to look the part, rather than survive a battlefield.

’Are they even knights? Or just men forced into armor?’

The thought unsettled him, but before he could dwell on it, Marius’s voice filled the hall once more.

"We are not sure if it is well-known, but our kingdom symbolizes harmony," he began, voice steadier this time. "Not only that, but we are famed for our handmade crafts and goods."

’Really? Is that why...’

Florian’s gaze lowered, brushing the earrings dangling from his ears—the handmade earrings Hendrix had once given him.

His heart gave a small start. He turned his head, catching Hendrix’s eyes across the space. The prince was smiling faintly, knowingly.

And that smile confirmed it.

The words barely registered before one of the so-called knights stepped forward, carrying a small chest.

No—at first glance, it looked golden, but as it caught the light, Florian realized it was copper, burnished with a subtle gleam.

The knight dropped to one knee before him, presenting it with reverence, then slowly lifted the lid.

Florian’s breath caught.

Inside lay one of the most exquisite pieces he had ever seen. A necklace—fine gold, delicate yet strong, each link glimmering.

Set within it were dozens of white crystals that shimmered faintly with their own inner light, like frozen starlight, all leading to a single large gem at the center. It pulsed faintly in the glow of the chandeliers, alive, radiant.

Florian’s eyes widened. His chest swelled, hands lifting without thinking, as though drawn to it.

"I made this especially for you, Your Highness," Marius said, his voice carrying a strange mix of pride and desperation.

"You... made this yourself, King Marius?" Florian asked, stunned, almost disbelieving.

Marius nodded firmly. "It is crafted of Concordia’s gold, set with our kingdom’s very own Harmony Crystal. The Harmony Crystal is said to symbolize balance, peace, and fortune. It brings good luck to those who wear it. This necklace... is my way of bringing together the gold of Concordia and the Harmony of—"

But he never finished.

A sharp snap broke the air as Heinz’s hand shot forward. The king shut the box with a decisive slam before Florian’s fingers could even brush the necklace. The sound echoed like a whipcrack in the hushed hall.

Florian froze, stunned, staring as Heinz took the chest without so much as a glance at its contents.

And then, with infuriating nonchalance, Heinz handed it off to a nearby servant as though it were nothing more than a trinket, not the priceless treasure it clearly was.

"It’s time for the next kingdom," Heinz announced, his tone curt, commanding, final.

Gasps stirred in the crowd, whispers breaking out again like wildfire, scandal dripping in every voice.

’What?’

Florian’s head snapped toward him, eyes wide. His throat locked, words catching, but his expression spoke for him—his gaze boring into Heinz with disbelief.

’What the fuck was that?’