Chapitre 434: Prelude to Fall Ball I
The late afternoon sun filtered through the windows of the common room, casting long, golden streaks across the polished floor. Seol-ah Moyong sat by the far wall, her onyx-black hair cascading over her shoulders as she leafed through a tattered training manual. Her golden eyes scanned the text with quiet intensity, the world around her forgotten—until an excited voice broke through her concentration.
"Seol-ah!" Ava's cheerful tone rang out as she practically bounded into view, her short curls bouncing with each step.
Seol-ah didn't bother looking up, her fingers continuing to flip the pages with precise, deliberate movements. "What is it, Ava?"
Ava plopped down beside her, an impish grin lighting up her face. "Have you thought about who you're taking to the Ball?"
Seol-ah's fingers paused mid-turn. She blinked once, then resumed her reading. "I'm not going."
Ava gasped dramatically, clutching an imaginary necklace. "Not going? To the Fall Ball? Seol-ah, you must go!"
"The Fall Ball," Seol-ah muttered, the words weighted with disinterest. She snapped the manual shut with a faint thud. "A glorified show of social climbing. Everyone vying to impress the Five Great Families of the East. No thanks."
"But it'll be fun!" Ava protested, her face bright and hopeful. "There'll be music, food, and dancing. Plus, no one's going to pay attention to us anyway. Not with the Seven Celebrities stealing the spotlight."
Seol-ah inclined her head slightly, acknowledging the point. It was true. All but Rank 1 of Class 5-A—and the three of them, the "newcomers"—hailed from the Seven Superpowers of the world. Their towering legacies overshadowed anything Seol-ah could hope to offer in a room of power-hungry nobles.
"Exactly why I won't go," Seol-ah said, her voice cool and matter-of-fact. "You want to enjoy yourself? Go. But don't drag me into it."
Ava crossed her arms and pouted, her tone turning plaintive. "You need to come! And besides, think of how boring it'll be without you."
"Then you'll survive one boring evening," Seol-ah replied dryly.
A sudden voice joined the fray, smooth and teasing. "She's right, Ava. You've got to stop dragging poor Seol-ah into your wild schemes."
Seol-ah glanced up to see Aria Gu, her striking red hair tied into a high ponytail that shimmered like flames in the sunlight. The corners of Aria's lips were curled into a sly smile.
"Aria," Seol-ah greeted her with a slight nod.
Aria wasted no time. "Tell me, Seol-ah," she began, her tone as casual as a cat stretching in the sun, "are you really planning to skip? What about that 'perfect prince of the North' everyone whispers about? A lot of students see you two sparring together."
Seol-ah frowned slightly, her golden eyes narrowing. "Lucifer? He's a rival in swordsmanship, not a—"
"Ah, so you do think he's perfect," Aria interrupted, her grin widening.
Seol-ah sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. "Our relationship is entirely about training and tactics. Nothing else."
"Battle junkie," Aria muttered under her breath, tossing her crimson hair over her shoulder. She leaned in conspiratorially. "But listen, if you're so against the idea, why not use the Ball to shake things up? Get a date, make a splash, and who knows—maybe you'll even surprise yourself."
"I'd rather not," Seol-ah replied curtly. Her tone was firm, but Aria's words had planted a seed of irritation that Seol-ah couldn't quite shake.
"Never say never," Ava chimed in, her pout transforming back into a grin. "And this year, even Arthur Nightingale is attending after three. With three dates again."
Seol-ah's brow furrowed. "Three?"
"All three princesses," Aria added, her eyes gleaming with amusement. "Cecilia, Rachel, and Seraphina. The man's a legend. I mean, who else could manage to pull that off?"
"It's not exactly admirable," Seol-ah said sharply. Yet even as she said it, her mind lingered on the name. Arthur Nightingale. The Rank 1 of Class 5-A. The one who had reshaped Mythos Academy's hierarchy simply by existing.
"Admire or don't," Aria said with a shrug, "but at least he's making life interesting. You could stand to do the same."
Seol-ah didn't respond. She rose from her seat, manual in hand, and cast a glance at the pair of them. "If the Fall Ball is so important to you, then go and enjoy it. But leave me out of it."
And with that, she turned on her heel and walked away, her footsteps echoing faintly in the quiet hallway. Ava sighed dramatically, while Aria smirked, a spark of mischief still alight in her eyes.
"She'll come around," Aria said confidently, her tone playful and smug. "They always do."
Seol-ah Moyong, however, had no intention of "coming around." Her golden eyes narrowed as she strolled through the polished hallways of Mythos Academy, the faint echoes of her footsteps following her like a persistent reminder of her thoughts. Aria and Ava's chatter was long behind her, but their words lingered.
'Lucifer...'
His name surfaced in her mind, unbidden yet insistent. She frowned slightly, her gaze unfocused as she turned a corner. Lucifer Windward wasn't an unreasonable option, politically or strategically. In fact, he might even be ideal. The Windward family ruled half of the Northern continent, their influence and resources far eclipsing her own Moyong family's reach. She was no heir, after all—her younger brother held that title, leaving her free to marry into a more powerful house without any inheritance entanglements.
And then there was Lucifer himself.
An unparalleled prodigy, once untouchable in his generation. His epithet, Sword God, wasn't given lightly. For years, he stood alone, a mountain too steep for anyone to climb. Though others—Arthur Nightingale chief among them—had since narrowed the distance, Lucifer remained a force to be reckoned with.
Politically? Perfect. Strategically? Impeccable.
Seol-ah groaned inwardly. Personally? She cringed at the thought.
Wife. The word felt alien, heavy, like a weight pressing against her chest. She shivered, almost physically recoiling from the idea as her pace quickened. The notion of marriage—of alliances formed through handshakes and smiles while chains bound her future—was suffocating. Even if it was logical, even if it was advantageous, it wasn't her.
The image of her father flashed in her mind. His voice, sharp and commanding, yet tinged with pride, echoed from a memory long past. The day she leveled the family's treasured sword art from Grade 5 to Grade 6, he had offered her the seat of the successor.
She'd turned it down without hesitation.
It wasn't because she didn't love her family. She did. Deeply. Her father, despite his stoic exterior, was one of the few people she genuinely admired. She wanted to make him proud, to earn his respect not through titles or responsibilities, but through the path she chose for herself.
But that stuff—the politics, the alliances, the suffocating expectations—it wasn't her. No, it would be more apt to say she hated it.
Her hand brushed the hilt of her sword instinctively, its familiar weight grounding her thoughts. What did she want? To fight. To explore. To test her limits against the strongest this world had to offer. The thrill of a duel, the taste of victory, the sting of a loss—they were real, tangible. They made her feel alive in a way that no political maneuvering or calculated marriage ever could.
As she stepped outside, the crisp evening air brushed against her skin. The academy grounds were quiet, bathed in the soft glow of streetlamps and moonlight. She tilted her head back, staring at the stars scattered across the dark canvas of the sky.
'To live,' she thought simply. 'That's what I want.'
She didn't need to be anyone's wife. Not Lucifer's, not anyone's. She didn't need a title or a legacy carved from someone else's expectations. The world was vast, filled with untold challenges and opportunities. That was enough.
Her lips quirked into a faint smile as she turned her gaze back toward the academy. Let Aria and Ava tease her. Let the others whisper about her prospects. She didn't care.
She would carve her own path, unbound and unapologetically free.
État de l’alimentation hebdomadaire
-- Classement
Power Stone 
-- Power
stone