The First Puppet ( V )
Chapter 14: The First Puppet ( V )
Step Four: The Final Hook – Offering a Hand… for a Price
The halls of House Aurelian stretched endlessly in dim candlelight, the last remnants of noble laughter fading into the distance.
But here, in this quiet corridor, there was nothing left of Cedric Vaelmont but a hollow man.
His coat, once tailored to perfection, hung loosely on his shoulders, wrinkled from tension. His breath came in short, uneven bursts, like a man teetering on the edge of a precipice.
The echoes of laughter, of whispered humiliation, of Cedric's disgrace still lingered in the air.
But now?
Now there was only silence.
For Cedric Vaelmont, the air was suffocating.
The night had crushed him.
His debts—laid bare.
His allies—vanished.
Holstein? Still standing.
Everything he had built, everything he had gambled his reputation on—gone.
Cedric stood alone, his coat disheveled, his breath unsteady. He had stormed out of the ballroom, hands shaking, pride shattered into dust.
And then—
A slow, measured voice.
"A difficult evening, I imagine."
The voice was soft, smooth, unhurried.
Cold.
Cedric turned sharply, instincts screaming at him, pulse spiking—
There, standing just beyond the reach of the lanterns, untouched by the wreckage of the night—Noctis.
Dark silk. Unruffled posture. The air of a man in absolute control.
A stark contrast to Cedric's ruin.
Cedric turned sharply, eyes wild.
Noctis stood just beyond the light of the corridor, calm, collected—untouched by the chaos of the night.
"You—" Cedric's voice cracked with anger, with something far more dangerous—desperation.
Noctis tilted his head, as if examining something pathetic.
"Everything," Cedric hissed, stepping forward, his hands clenched. "Everything fell apart. My debts, the merchants, Holstein—"
Noctis stepped closer.
"And do you think this is the end?"
Noctis did not react.
There was no sympathy.
Only observation.
Then, he took a single step closer.
And Cedric—who had spent the last week basking in his illusion of victory—stepped back.
Cedric faltered.
The words sank in. A realization. A deeper fear.
This was not the end.
This was only the beginning.
Noctis's voice was smooth, almost amused.
But something shifted.
Cedric's breath hitched.
The air… changed.
For a moment—just a moment—his vision blurred. The edges of the corridor seemed to twist, warp—like a mirage.
His thoughts—his own thoughts—became distant. Fuzzy.
Something cold slithered down his spine.
Noctis took another step forward.
"This was merely the first move, Lord Vaelmont. The real game? It's only just begun."
The way he said it—detached, calm, inevitable.
As if Cedric's downfall had never been in question.
As if it had been planned from the very start.
And it had.
Cedric swallowed.
He had nothing left.
He was cornered.
The words sank deep. Too deep.
Not the end.
Not even close.
A pressure—invisible, suffocating—pressed against Cedric's skull.
And for the first time that night—
Panic truly set in.
"What—what are you—" Cedric's voice faltered.
Noctis watched, impassive.
And in this world—the world of nobles, power, and shifting alliances—a cornered man did not survive.
Noctis watched him, offering the one thing Cedric had left to grasp.
"You need allies. Real ones."
His tone was casual. But Cedric—Cedric felt it.
Felt the presence.
Something unseen pressed down.
Cedric stiffened, his pulse hammering in his ears.
His mind blurred—just for a moment—his thoughts scattered.
It felt like something was… shifting. Twisting.
He blinked rapidly, his breath hitching—
And then he realized.
Noctis.
It was coming from Noctis.
Something in the air around him—subtle, suffocating. A presence he could feel but not name.
Like shadows curling around the edges of his mind.
Like the world itself bending, shifting—warping.
And Noctis?
Noctis just smiled.
An unseen weight, pressing into his thoughts, twisting around his certainty.
Like fingers threading through the edges of his mind.
Not forceful. Not obvious.
Subtle. Gentle. Unyielding.
Noctis wasn't controlling him.
Not outright.
No—this was worse.
He was… guiding him.
Steering his thoughts. Shifting his instincts.
His doubt.
His fear.
His very sense of reality.
Cedric's heartbeat pounded against his ribs.
He clenched his fists, trying to push back. Trying to fight it.
But the more he resisted—
The more his mind slipped.
One thought. A single whisper.
"Noctis is right."
It wasn't his voice.
It wasn't his own.
But it felt like his own.
"And you expect me to believe you would help me now?" Cedric forced out, trying to hold onto something, anything.
Noctis exhaled softly. His as smile as cold as the night. Eyes flickering green as it stared right through him.
"Believe me or don't."
Another step.
Another shift.
The world tilted.
Cedric's breath came faster, his pulse erratic.
His thoughts—his **own thoughts—**felt like they weren't entirely his.
As if something had… rewritten them.
Softly. Carefully.
Like a hand tracing words onto parchment.
Cedric swallowed.
He had no allies left.
No power. No wealth.
His pride tried to claw at his throat—tried to reject this.
But then—
A whisper.
Soft. Gentle. Inevitable.
"Without me… you won't survive what comes next."
And just like that—
His doubt cracked.
He was already broken.
Noctis had only needed to give him the final push.
Cedric's shoulders sagged. His breath came in sharp, uneven bursts.
The panic—it wouldn't leave.
But it didn't matter anymore.
He had already lost.
He knew it.
Noctis knew it.
There was no deal left to be made.
Only submission.
A long silence.
A breath.
A final, broken whisper—
"What do you want?"
Noctis smiled.
Not a smirk.
Not mocking.
But cold. Unreadable.
"Your loyalty, Lord Vaelmont."
A pause.
A hesitation.
But Cedric had already been bound.
The chains were invisible, but they were there.
Laced into his mind.
Into his fear.
Into the truth he could no longer escape.
A long silence.
A breath.
A final, broken nod.
The first puppet was bound.
And this?
This was only the beginning.