Storm, turbulent waves

The girl’s voice, amplified by the podium’s magic, echoed through the hall—bouncing off the walls, reverberating clearly into every ear.

“What are you doing—?!” Lakazet, standing closest to Syldra, clutched her ear. The sudden blast nearly knocked her off balance. She grabbed the edge of the podium, glaring down at the red-haired girl half a head shorter than her.

“Sister Lakazet,” Syldra said softly, stepping back with a faint smile. “I’ve come to announce the engagement… in your place.”

…… What?

What is this girl talking about?!

Lakazet stared in shock as Syldra glanced across the hall, ignored her completely, and pressed a button on the podium.

A spotlight descended from above, illuminating the fiery cascade of her red hair.

“I am Syldra of House Lentiya—the daughter of the Duke of Lentiya, representing the Duchy of Lentiya under the Aetelarma Empire!”

She declared her identity loudly, ensuring all present knew: the speaker on the podium was an official representative of one of Aetelarma’s most prestigious houses!

Every motion in the hall froze.

Children gazed up with wide-eyed curiosity. Adults turned dark, hostile stares toward the Lentiya heiress.

Silence fell, thick with murmurs. An invisible pressure—like a storm cloud descending—settled over Syldra’s chest.

She couldn’t hear their whispers, nor were they close. But across the crimson dance floor, their emotions reached her with perfect clarity:
Curiosity—indifferent to who she was, caring only for how this would unfold.
Hostility—rooted solely in her identity, hating her simply because she was of House Lentiya.

Syldra felt her throat tighten.

…… Don’t be ridiculous, Ludwig. Healing Hero.

Is this truly more terrifying than the world’s destruction?

——Speak. Before they react. Before they stop you. Announce it first.

“Please, honored representatives, allow me—”

“Lady Lentiya.”

As Syldra drew breath to speak, a cold, commanding voice cut through the air—sharp, heavy with authority—from just below and beside her.

The Duke of Wylding had interrupted her without hesitation.

“May I ask what business you have?” The tall, gaunt man fixed her with a glare brimming with undisguised hostility. “If House Lentiya has matters to discuss with House Wylding, you may contact a staff member to relay your message.”

“I will meet with you personally—after the banquet concludes.”

He wore the same polite smile he’d shown while greeting guests earlier. Yet in the shadowed center of the dance floor, his expression looked nothing short of sinister.

“My deepest apologies, Duke of Wylding,” Syldra replied, unflinching under his gaze.

Is you, Duke of Wylding, more frightening than the Demon King?

She told herself this—and fear vanished.

“But I possess knowledge of a joyous imperial event—one soon to be revealed to the world.”

Here, she turned her head—glancing at Lakazet to her left.

The golden-haired girl stood frozen, hands fidgeting, utterly out of place under the spotlight, her composure shattered.

Syldra gave her a gentle smile.

“I simply could not wait to share this happiness with all esteemed representatives of the noble ducal houses of the Aetelarma Empire.”

“And of course,” she continued, voice rising, “to our non-Aetelarma guests—friends and allies of Wylding who came in goodwill to celebrate its 80th anniversary—I believe you, too, deserve to share in this joy!”

Under the Duke’s icy stare, Syldra spoke smoothly, flawlessly—each sentence polished, each pause deliberate—while repeatedly glancing toward Lakazet.

“Just now, seeing Your Grace toasting with the guests, I thought—what better moment than this, when joy multiplies upon joy, to make the announcement?”

“Trusting that all of you would rejoice with me, I took the liberty—on behalf of House Lentiya—to borrow this podium…”

…… Does she want to announce my engagement to Samael for me? Why?

But… if it leads to the engagement being formalized, does anything else matter?

Lakazet stood frozen, hands clasped tightly before her.

From the moment Syldra seized the podium—shouting, activating the light—everything had spiraled beyond her control.

She hadn’t had time to descend. Now, trapped in the spotlight, she remained onstage—exposed, scrutinized alongside the red-haired intruder.

She never imagined things would go like this.

When her father appeared, she’d looked to him like a drowning girl seeking rescue.

Yet his gaze—cold, accusing—cut her deeper than any blade.

What are you doing? Why did you let her take your place?

His disappointment struck her like thunder. She stood there, numb—like a puppet with severed strings, abandoned on stage.

Only when Syldra kept speaking—and glancing at her—did she realize she should stop her.

But the words flowed too perfectly—graceful, dignified, unassailable. There was no opening to interrupt.

…… As long as the engagement is announced publicly… who delivers the news doesn’t matter. Let her do it.

Lakazet’s mind churned with confusion and dread.

Below, the Duke of Wylding also found himself unable to intervene.

After all, Syldra wasn’t attacking—she was merely “sharing joy,” much like his own welcome speech.

And House Lentiya’s status within Aetelarma surpassed even his own—a quiet, universally acknowledged truth.

Even at imperial banquets hosted by the Emperor himself, the Duke of Lentiya was granted private audience.

Thus, in this delicate balance of power, a Lentiya representative addressing fellow nobles at a Wylding-hosted event was… acceptable.

So everyone, silently, allowed it.

No one expected what came next.

“The joyful news I wish to share with you all is—”

“—That Lady Syldra of House Lentiya shall be betrothed to Lord Samael, heir of the Duke of Camille from the Duchy of Camille!”

Silence.

The murmuring hall fell into absolute stillness.

Then—like thunder breaking the sky—chaos erupted.