Christmas Banquet [2]
Crystal chandeliers hung from the high, vaulted ceiling, each one dripping with hundreds of glittering prisms that cast a cool, silver light over the room.
The walls were adorned with sleek, silver panels, etched with delicate patterns that seemed to come alive in the flickering candlelight.
Large, ornately framed mirrors hung between the panels, reflecting the grandeur of the space and making it seem even larger.
The floor was a gleaming expanse of polished marble, inlaid with swirling patterns of onyx and silver.
Everywhere you looked, there were fresh flowers – roses, lilies, and orchids in every imaginable color – arranged in tall, vases that stood on pedestals of carved mahogany.
Long banquet tables, draped in heavy white linen, were laden with silver platters of the finest foods.
At the center of each table, candelabras of polished silver held thick, white candles that burned steadily, their flames dancing in the air.
The guests themselves were a dazzling sight, each one dressed in the height of fashion.
Men in tailored tuxedos and women in glittering gowns moved gracefully around the room, their laughter and conversation a pleasant hum that filled the space.
Waiters in crisp, white uniforms moved seamlessly among the guests, carrying trays of champagne and canapés.
At one end of the ballroom, a grand piano stood, its black lacquered surface reflecting the room's light.
A pianist played softly, the music dancing through the conversations and adding elegance to the atmosphere.
Amidst the crowd, a young woman captivated nearly everyone's attention.
Her silver hair cascaded down her back in soft waves, catching the light from the chandeliers and shimmering like a waterfall of molten metal.
She wore a dress that matched the room's cool elegance, a flowing gown of shimmering silver that clung to her figure and flared out gently as it reached the floor.
Her eyes were a striking shade of grey, clear and piercing, framed by long, dark lashes that fluttered with every blink.
Her lips, tinted with a hint of red, curled into a delicate smile that sent shivers through the hearts of every young man in the room.
Not a single person in the room was unaware of her identity.
She was the Princess of the great Frost Clan.
Celestina Frost.
And soon-to-be elder sister.
"Congratulations, Celestina. I'm certain you'll make a wonderful elder sister."
"Thank you," Celestina replied, her voice like the chiming of a silver bell, resonant and enchanting.
"Though I must admit, I'm hoping for a little sister rather than a brother."
Celestina's smile remained gentle as she spoke.
If Azriel were to hear this, he might question his grasp on reality even more than he already did.
After all...
There had been no mention in the book of Celestina's mother being pregnant.
Which meant that Azriel's survival had somehow added another member to the Frost Clan.
How exactly had that happened?
Perhaps it would be best if he never asked Ragnar.
"Right? Having a little brother will honestly just make you worry all the time. I can't count the number of times Azriel almost drove me crazy."
Hearing Jasmine's words, Celestina's smile froze.
'Azriel...?'
Why would she suddenly say his name?
It wasn't just Celestina who looked at Jasmine in shock; Caleus Nebula, the Prince of the Nebula Clan, who was the same age as the Princess of the Crimson Clan, shared the same astonished expression.
His amethyst hair shimmered under the chandelier light, matching his striking violet eyes that held the depth of galaxies.
Both knew about Azriel being dead.
Every single member of the four great clans knew of it.
What caught them off guard was that Jasmine normally never spoke of him since his death.
Ever.
Celestina respected Jasmine immensely. The Princess of the Frost Clan aspired to be a pillar of humanity, a hero, and saw the Crimson Princess as a rival she needed to surpass.
Who wouldn't think like that?
Jasmine Crimson, who would likely be the strongest second-year student just as she had been in her first year, had already set her sights on becoming the student council president and was destined to be the next head of the Crimson Clan.
She was an obstacle that, in Celestina's eyes, needed to be overcome.
But she still considered Jasmine a friend.
Given their high statuses, there weren't many people Celestina could interact with without worry.
Jasmine was someone she admired and regarded as a friend, unlike her little brother, whom she never knew how to talk to.
Azriel always seemed lost in his own world.
She wanted to ask why Jasmine had mentioned Azriel, but she felt it would be inappropriate.
Maybe it was just a slip of the tongue?
Caelus and Celestina exchanged a fleeting glance, and in that brief moment of understanding, they silently agreed to let it pass.
"Speaking of the devil, where the hell is he...? He's already half an hour late. If he shows up now, it will become quite troublesome..."
Both Celestina and Caelus grew even more puzzled by Jasmine's mumbling.
'...has she finally lost it?'
"Jasmine, are you feeling alright?"
Caelus asked with concern, causing Jasmine to snap out of her daze and look at him with wide eyes.
"Ah, yes, I'm fine. Sorry about that,"
Jasmine replied, though Caelus remained unconvinced.
"Are you sure? If you're feeling unwell, perhaps we should—"
Suddenly, his words trailed off as he noticed something unusual.
It wasn't just him—everyone in the ballroom had fallen silent.
The music had abruptly stopped, and the chatter had ceased as if the sound had been abruptly cut off.
'What's happening...?'
Celestina, though not overly worried, found the sudden silence strange.
'A special event, perhaps?' she wondered.
Step—!
A single, thunderous step echoed through the ballroom, drawing everyone's attention to the entrance.
Heads snapped towards the entrance, their gasps echoing off the walls.
What they saw…
"!?"
Left them trembling.
'H-how…!?'
Celestina could hardly believe her eyes.
No one did.
Standing there was the prince who was thought to have died—the one who had fallen in battle against the Void.
He stood tall and commanding, his posture impeccable and resolute, radiating an aura of confidence and strength that seemed almost otherworldly.
Every gaze in the room was locked on him, their faces a mix of astonishment and bewilderment.
Step—!
Each step he took resonated through the space like distant thunder, rendering the crowd spellbound and motionless.
He wore a black tuxedo that melded seamlessly with his dark hair, enhancing the striking contrast of his crimson-red eyes.
Those eyes were like pools of liquid fire, burning with an intensity that was both mesmerizing and disquieting.
Behind him, another figure in a pristine white tuxedo stood slightly in the background, his presence barely noticed.
Yet, his silver hair and matching crimson-red eyes oddly hinted at a striking resemblance to the crimson prince.
The subtle sheen of his silver locks caught the light, adding an otherworldly quality to his appearance.
Yet, it was the prince in black who held the room's undivided attention.
Step—!
.
.
Step—!
.
.
Step—!
.
.
Step—!
.
.
Step—!
.
.
Celestina recalled Jasmine's earlier words.
.
.
Step—!
.
.
He continued to walk calmly through the crowd, their disbelief evident in every eye.
.
.
Step—!
.
.
Until...
.
.
Step—!
.
.
He finally stopped.
.
.
Standing in the center of the ballroom.
His crimson eyes, so intense they were almost unrecognizable, swept over the assembled guests.
Suddenly, his gaze locked with hers.
Ba... Thump!
Celestina's heart skipped a beat as their eyes met for a fleeting moment.
He was the first to break the connection, turning his gaze to his sister, who regarded him with narrowed eyes.
Azriel's lips curved into a soft, knowing smile.
Ba... Thump!
Celestina felt her heart skip a beat once more, this time with the impact of his smile.
And she wasn't alone.
More than half of the guests felt their hearts quicken at that smile.
"All of you are looking at me like I'm some sort of ghost—"
His voice was soft, yet it effortlessly carried across the room.
"—Why? Today is Christmas, after all... the day of miracles."
With that, he moved towards a nearby waiter, who visibly paled upon his approach.
Azriel casually took a glass of red wine from the tray, as if nothing unusual had happened.
"I'm sure you have many questions about me. Where have I been all this time? Did I die? Was I disowned? Did I run away?"
He addressed each of the rumors that had been circulating about him with a calm smile.
"The truth is, I wasn't dead, disowned, or fleeing. Instead, I..."
The crowd leaned in, hanging on his every word, until he abruptly turned his gaze toward someone.
Celestina, along with everyone else, followed his stare and saw him looking at his father.
Joaquin Crimson, flanked by Ragnar on his left and Aeliana, his wife, on his right, watched with approving smiles.
Joaquin gave a nod of acknowledgment.
"For the past two years, I was in the Void Realm."
"...!"