CHAPTER 47: FRESHER BALL

Chapter 47– Fresher Ball

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(Michael POV)

The Fresher Party Hall Entrance loomed before me like something carved straight out of legend.

Two towering doors, engraved with silver runes, stretched nearly ten meters high. Dragonbone pillars flanked the entrance, etched with wards that pulsed faintly with golden light. Above, an enchanted crest shimmered—the symbol of Arcade Academy, two swords crossing beneath the World Tree.

I stood at the threshold, straightening the cuffs of my midnight-black suit. The air around me carried faint traces of perfume, carriage smoke, and mana—the unmistakable scent of a noble gathering. Even from here, I could hear the faint swell of violins and laughter leaking past the wards that kept the hall insulated.

Students had already gone in, one pair after another, eager to bask in the glow of nobility, power, and connections. The chatter inside rose and fell in waves. The spotlight of their gazes would shift every few minutes as a new name was announced.

Me? I was late on purpose.

Arriving last wasn’t just fashion—it was strategy. Attention burned hottest when it came at the end, when anticipation had already ripened.

Or maybe I was just stalling, staring at the doors and remembering what lay ahead.

Because I knew something none of them did.

This ball wasn’t just a party. It was the calm before a storm.

"Michael ?"

A soft voice cut through my thoughts.

I turned and froze.

Maria Frostheart was walking toward me.

Even under the starlit glow of Arcadia’s enchanted sky, she seemed luminous. Her gown was a flowing masterpiece of icy blue silk threaded with silver, its design delicate yet sharp like frost patterns drawn on glass. Her silver hair was braided into a regal cascade, each strand catching light, shimmering like snow under moonlight. A faint, crystalline aura lingered around her skin, unintentional yet impossible to ignore.

If the hall behind those doors was a stage, Maria Frostheart was a queen prepared to step upon it.

I realized I was staring. Too long.

Her lips curved, faintly amused. "You’re late."

I exhaled slowly. "You noticed."

"Hard not to. Everyone’s already inside." Her gaze flicked toward the hall, then back to me. Her eyes, pale as glacial lakes, studied my suit briefly. "You dressed better than I expected."

I raised a brow. "Was I supposed to come in my training clothes?"

She smirked, just barely. "That would’ve been... memorable."

I almost laughed. Almost. Instead, I adjusted my collar and replied, "Memorable isn’t always good."

"True." She tilted her head, her silver earrings catching starlight. "But being last? That was intentional, wasn’t it?"

I hesitated. Then, bluntly: "Yes. Last makes the loudest noise."

Her expression softened, intrigued. "Noise?"

"Whispers. Gazes. Speculation. Let them look. Attention can be useful if you know how to wield it."

She blinked at me, and for a brief moment her composed mask cracked an expression of genuine surprise before melting back into her calm.

"...You think like that? Even here, at something as trivial as a dance?"

I shrugged. "This isn’t trivial."

Her lips parted, then closed. She studied me a moment longer, as though weighing something unseen. Then, quietly, she said:

"Then... allow me to walk with you."

Her hand, pale and cool, slid into the crook of my arm without hesitation. As natural as if it had always belonged there.

I blinked, looking at her. "Just like that?"

"You said attention can be useful." She tilted her chin slightly. "Then you’ll need a partner worthy of matching you. Don’t you agree?"

...She wasn’t wrong.

I inhaled, exhaled, letting the moment settle. Then I nodded once, curt. "Fine."

Maria’s faint smile widened just enough to glimmer. "Good answer."

We turned together, facing the towering silver doors.

Beyond them, music swelled, laughter rang, and a thousand eyes waited.

The doors began to open, enchanted hinges creaking with slow grandeur.

Light spilled out in waves golden, warm, dazzling.

And with Maria at my side, we stepped forward.

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The doors of the Supreme Hall opened with a slow, echoing creak, as if the building itself was announcing our arrival.

Light spilled outward, dazzling and golden.

The ballroom stretched before us like a painting out of a dream. Chandeliers hung high above, enchanted crystal casting rainbow prisms across polished floors inscribed with glowing runes.

Every wall shimmered faintly with protective wards and enchanted murals, scenes of Arcadia’s founding history woven into artistry.

Tables draped in velvet brimmed with delicacies roasted wyvern, enchanted wines, fruits from the elven forests, honey cakes from dwarven halls.

Music swelled violins, harps, a faint undertone of drums—filling the hall with a warmth that was almost intoxicating.

And then the eyes came.

Hundreds of them.

Every student turned, every whisper stilled for a heartbeat as Maria and I entered.

Her hand rested lightly on my arm, posture flawless, head tilted with quiet confidence. She didn’t smile widely—she didn’t need to. Her presence alone was enough to silence the hall.

And me? Dressed in a black suit edged with silver, hair brushed back neatly, my movements deliberate—I wasn’t dazzling like Leon, nor flamboyant like Aiden. But I was calm. Controlled. I met their stares and didn’t flinch.

The silence broke into whispers.

"Is that...?"

"Michael Willson... with Maria Frostheart?"

"The Rank 1?!"

"They came together—look at them!"

The noise swelled like waves crashing, rising as we walked further in.

To them, it must’ve looked calculated. Like we had planned this entrance. King and queen. Last to arrive, stealing the stage from everyone else.

Maria leaned slightly closer, her voice a cool whisper only I could hear.

"...You were right. Arriving last makes the loudest noise."

I glanced sideways at her. The faint smirk on her lips told me she was enjoying this more than she let on.

Of course she was.

Nobles lived for this kind of spectacle.

Still... I didn’t hate it.

---

The crowd parted naturally, as though an unseen current pulled them aside.

Eyes trailed us, lingering too long, scanning, comparing. I heard the names of my competitors muttered in hushed tones.

"Leon Lionheart... Selena Veylan..."

"Elara Moonshade with Aiden Stormfang."

"Chris Blackthorn and Lyra Braveheart."

Each pair had entered before us, each had drawn attention. But now? Their radiance dimmed, eclipsed.

And they noticed.

I caught Leon’s gaze from across the room. He was standing near a table piled with food, Selena at his side, elegant as always.

His smile faltered for half a second before he masked it with a laugh, saying something too loudly, as though nothing was wrong.

Selena, however, wasn’t so easily fooled. Her sharp eyes flicked between Maria and me, narrowing ever so slightly.

Aiden Stormfang, tall and broad, leaned back in mild surprise as Elara beside him blinked, her delicate features betraying the briefest flicker of curiosity.

Chris Blackthorn, perpetually laid-back, whistled low, earning a frown from Lyra Braveheart.

And Maria? She didn’t even look at them. Her chin remained lifted, her calm expression unshaken. She didn’t need to acknowledge their reactions—her very presence was already enough of an answer.

---

We passed into the center of the ballroom. The attendant by the door cleared his throat, his voice magically amplified to announce our names.

"Michael Willson—Rank 1 of the First Year. Accompanied by Lady Maria Frostheart, heir of House Frostheart."

The words rang like a proclamation.

Whispers rippled instantly.

"Rank 1 and Frostheart—together?"

"Unbelievable..."

"What does this mean for the factions?"

I exhaled slowly, letting it wash over me. Attention. Pressure. Suspicion. It was all fuel, all leverage. And at my side, Maria moved as though she were carved from nobility itself, her gaze fixed forward, untouched by the storm of murmurs.

This was dangerous.

This was reckless.

This was perfect.

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(Leon POV)

I bit into a roasted skewer of wyvern meat a little harder than I intended.

Heh. Typical Michael. The guy doesn’t just enter a room—he steals it.

The moment the grand doors creaked open, I felt the shift.

It wasn’t just the sound of hinges or the orchestra pausing. No—it was the silence that followed. The kind of silence that told you something had changed.

And then I saw them.

Michael Willson.

Maria Frostheart.

Together.

I nearly dropped the goblet in my hand, crimson wine sloshing dangerously close to the rim.

...No. No, no, no. That couldn’t be right. That couldn’t be real.

But it was.

He walked beside her with his usual infuriating calm, dressed in that sleek suit as though it had been crafted for him alone. And Maria, with silver hair flowing like moonlight, the faintest of smiles on her lips. They weren’t just walking into the ball. They were claiming it.

The hall, filled with hundreds of voices just moments ago, fell utterly quiet.

It was like every candle flame, every enchanted rune in the ballroom, bent toward them.

And worse than the silence? The whispers that came after.

"...Rank 1 with Frostheart?"

"They came together—look at them!"

"Unbelievable..."

Each word was like a dagger pricking my pride.

I clenched my jaw so tightly it ached.

Beside me, Selena’s sharp intake of breath confirmed it wasn’t just my imagination. Her fan snapped open with a flick, covering her expression, but I caught the way her eyes narrowed calculating, sharp.

Even Elara froze mid-sentence, her delicate elven fingers brushing the stem of her glass. Her gaze fixed on Maria, her lips parting in something between awe and disbelief.

Aiden let out a low whistle, his wolf-like ears twitching with amusement.

"Well, damn. Now that’s a pair to stir the nobles. You can taste the salt in the air already."

I ignored him. My knuckles tightened around the goblet until the silver stem bit into my palm.

"...What the hell," I muttered under my breath.

Selena’s brows furrowed, her voice even, but edged.

"So she chose him."

"No."

The word slipped out harsher than I intended. Elara, of all people, was the one to shake her head, her voice soft but certain.

"She didn’t choose. She’s making a point."

I turned to her, but her eyes never left Maria. That faint smile, that unshakable grace it wasn’t affection she radiated. It was defiance.

Yes. A point.

Maria Frostheart wasn’t the type to flaunt just anyone. She didn’t move without purpose. If she walked in with Michael, it wasn’t chance. It was deliberate.

And the worst part?

He looked like he belonged.

The bastard stood there as though the stares, the whispers, the envy, all of it was nothing. He didn’t shrink. He didn’t stumble.

He carried himself with the same maddening calm he’d shown in every fight, every challenge, every moment since the entrance exams.

Selena’s voice sliced through the tension.

"Leon. Calm yourself. It’s just an entrance."

Just an entrance?

I almost laughed. Bitter, sharp.

No it wasn’t just an entrance. I saw the way nobles shifted uncomfortably. The way whispers rippled outward, their meaning clear. Tonight wasn’t about me. Or Selena. Or even Elara, or Aiden, or the other first-years.

It was about him.

Michael. Always Michael.

Even when I thought I’d left him behind, even when I convinced myself his victory at the exams was a fluke—he found a way to rise. To steal the stage, to drag the spotlight back to himself.

My chest tightened, an ugly mix of frustration and something I refused to name.

I forced my grip to loosen before the goblet cracked in my hand.

Selena’s eyes slid toward me, sharp and probing.

"...You’re glaring."

"Am I?" I muttered, forcing a smile. It felt wrong on my face, but it was better than showing her the storm underneath.

Across the hall, Michael turned his head slightly—just enough for his gaze to meet mine. Calm. Steady. The faintest curve at the corner of his mouth, like he knew exactly what I was thinking.

And then he looked away.

As if I didn’t matter.

My heart thudded in my chest.

Selena fanned herself delicately, her voice soft enough for only our group to hear.

"Interesting... So tonight’s game just changed."

I said nothing. Because deep down, I knew she was right.

---

(Michael POV)

We reached the center of the hall. Students had already begun moving again, conversations resuming in louder tones, though every so often I caught the subtle glances thrown our way.

Maria finally turned her head, her silver hair brushing against my shoulder as she whispered.

"...Are you uncomfortable?"

I shook my head. "No. I knew what this would be."

She studied me for a moment, then let out the faintest hum of approval.

The orchestra swelled, violins rising to a new tempo. Attendants ushered the first pairs onto the dance floor. Leon and Selena, naturally, moved first. Elara and Aiden followed. Chris dragged Lyra reluctantly, earning a sharp jab in his side.

Maria shifted slightly. "...Shall we?"

I blinked at her. "Dance?"

Her lips curved faintly. "That is what one does at a ball, isn’t it?"

I exhaled slowly, then offered my hand. "Fine. But if I step on your toes "

"I’ll freeze them off," she murmured, smirk deepening as her hand slid into mine.

And so, under chandeliers of rainbow light and amidst whispers of envy and speculation, Maria Frostheart and I stepped onto the dance floor.

The music rose.

The floor gleamed.

The night had only just begun.

And If you are wondering How I came Here It long story happen after Maira asked me to be her partner.

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Next Chapter: Will One Day Before The Fresher Ball