Meeting (2)

Grey stood before the towering double doors, their dark lacquer gleaming faintly beneath the chandelier light. The gilded carvings, symbols of Ravenwood prestige, twisted like coiled serpents across the wood—ornate, overindulgent. Two guards flanked the entrance, their spears crossed and eyes fixed forward, waiting not on Grey, but on the butler's signal.

It was clear Disrespect to him.

In his previous life, people would never think of showing disrespect in front of him even in their dreams... Their head bowed before him without the need for command. Here, they didn't move until Albert offered a simple nod.

The spears withdrew with a clack.

The doors opened with a groaning creak, revealing the heart of the estate—the grand dining hall.

Grey stepped through without pause.

A long obsidian table stretched before him like a shadow cast by ambition. Seated around it were four figures, and though he had never met them in this life, he knew each of them intimately through the fragmented memories he now possessed.

To the right sat a woman with soft pink hair, her skin pale as porcelain, her eyes a matching shade of rose. She looked barely twenty, but her posture radiated authority. Her beauty was delicate, like a petal preserved in ice. His new mother.

Across from her sat a man and a woman, both unfamiliar yet instantly recognizable.

The man was tall, his brown hair swept back in clean, martial precision. His amber eyes—burnished like molten topaz—regarded Grey with sharp, veiled contempt. The woman beside him shared his earthy tones: soft brown hair and gentle features, but her eyes were a striking shade of deep violet, swirling with anger barely restrained by etiquette.

Grey knew who they were. The girl's parents.

Effie's mother and father.

They were key figures—head of the largest branch guild under the Ravenwood banner, old allies of the main family. Their presence here was not courtesy. It was confrontation.

But it was the man at the head of the table who drew Grey's full attention.

Golden hair like sunlight pouring through stained glass. Golden eyes so vivid they seemed almost unnatural, shimmering with a power too refined to be human. He looked no older than his late twenties, but his presence was timeless. Cold. Controlled. Commanding.

The most handsome man Grey had ever seen, in this life or the last.

A king without a crown, yet every fiber of the room bent toward him as though gravity itself was shackled to his will.

Grey's gaze lingered, unreadable.

So this was his new father.

He had seen his face in his inherited memories, yes—but seeing him in person was something else entirely. The sheer pressure emanating from him—subtle but omnipresent—threatened to squeeze the air from Grey's lungs.

He couldn't see it.

But he could feel it.

A force that said: You are beneath me.

And yet, Grey's expression did not waver.

He stepped forward calmly, every motion deliberate. He made no attempt to lower his gaze, no act of feigned humility. His golden eyes met theirs, unwavering. 

The silence stretched.

Unbroken.

Albert moved quietly to the corner of the hall, his eyes lowered, his role fulfilled. He dared not speak.

And the others?

They stared at Grey.

All of them.

The mother whose affection had been hollow.

The guests who came as executioners cloaked in diplomacy.

And the father—still, silent, distant.

Grey could feel the tension swelling, taut like a drawn bowstring. Perhaps it was the way he looked at them—openly, without guilt. Perhaps it was the absence of fear. Whatever it was, something in his gaze disturbed them.

Effie's mother's face twisted first. A flicker of rage coiled across her brow, lips tightening, nostrils flaring.

Her loathing was naked now.

And Grey, standing before them like a lamb accused of mauling a lion, simply watched. Silent. Still.

He already knew why they were here.

And yet, he stood as though it were they who owed him an explanation.

The dining hall remained quiet—eerily so. No one had yet spoken, but the weight of judgment already filled the room.

Grey's fingers curled ever so slightly.

He had only one thought in his mind...

'Entertain me...'