chapter: 0.69 Ring Exchange II

The grand banquet hall of House rotschy was dimly lit this evening, whispers of candlelight dancing on obsidian walls etched with lunar motifs. At its high, lacquered table, Jien Rochey was seated in stately calm. He wore black attire from head to toe—sleek shirt, tailored trousers, leather boots, skin-tight gloves with the fingers cut away, the soft ivory of his nails exposed. His silky black hair, smooth as midnight, cascaded around his finely chiseled face. Long eyelashes framed eyes the color of fresh blood, sharp as a blade's edge. His skin shone pale and flawless, lips full and inviting—beautiful, yet hauntingly distant. The signature black ribbon on his left wrist, once his sister's, had transformed with him; today it was a deeper shade, pressed to the pulse of his etheric power.

Across from him sat Lady Naoko rotschy, regal in a black gown that swallowed any light but let the radiance of her silver hair shine through. Her gaze was serene and unreadable, her alabaster face set in its usual mask of ice. She had the air of a goddess attending her own ceremony, nothing more. High-heeled boots tapped gently as she adjusted her posture, now sitting straight, now leaning forward, always in control.

jin smile curled at the edges with mischief, smooth and ironic. He looked at her and said softly, voice even and teasing, "Mother, you look exceptionally beautiful tonight. Are you planning to charm me into falling in love with you? What would you do if I actually did?"

Naoko's complexion remained calm; not even a shadow passed over her face. She said, measured and cold, "I am not trying anything—nor do I need your affection. I must present myself well at my son's wedding. And if the sarcasm doesn't stop, I will remind you that tonight's business is not your comedy routine."

Feigning offense, jin pressed a hand to his chest theatrically and kneeled into the air as if stabbed: "Mother, this wounds me terribly! You have broken my fragile heart."

He paused, looking toward the corridor as if expecting an audience. His voice dropped to a whisper, low and mocking: "Mother, don't look so blank. Have I aged you? Let me do the math: you married at eighteen and bore me at twenty. I am sixteen now—so you must be thirty-six… still youth itself. If only you were fifty."

He stood again and pivoted his gaze toward the silver goblets at the side. "Speaking of which, mother, why are there alcoholic drinks here? We do not drink in House rotschy." He waved a hand dismissively. "Are they for Mother Amelia and Rina and Lyona? And when will this signing and ring exchange happen? I want it over before I return to training."

Mother rotschy inclined her head. Her tranquility turned to acknowledgement: "They are indeed for Lady Amberheart and her companions. You are right—this must be concluded promptly. As soon as the ceremonial wine is poured, we shall exchange rings and sign the contract. Then you both will be free."

jin made a soft, almost playful hum and nodded. His crimson eyes softened for a moment, curious. He leaned a bit forward: "Also—I've not mastered all seven moon manas yet. I have the silver, purple, black—but the red, green, and…ah, blue remain. I thought I could perfect the stellar sword arts by now, but I must discipline myself further. That must begin once I rejoin my private training."

Naoko merely inclined, silent and unshaken. The candlelight flickered on her stillness.

Nearby, Amelia Amberheart watched them quietly, commanding in her own noble way. She had joined the table, seated just across from Naoko. Her red-gold hair framed her face like fire, her golden eyes calculating. She wore dark robes embroidered in subtle phoenix motifs, matching her daughter's future bridegroom's evening attire—an unspoken challenge.

Amelia's gaze flicked between mother and son, the two most powerful magi in the room. She noted the quiet tension, the soft power play. She softly spoke herself, voice low but firm: "Is everything proceeding smoothly?" She smiled—thin, polite.

Naoko returned the slight incline of head, replying quietly, "Yes, though I must remind him that tonight is a ceremony of duty, not festivity."

Amelia tapped a finger against her goblet's rim. She met jin gaze briefly—a glance that said she saw more than he realized. He returned it with a slight bow of his head, polite but composed. She knew he watched her just as closely—and thought through him.

Naoko finished her wine—black glass gleamed in her hand—and folded it into her lap. Amelia gently closed her own goblet. Lyona, their companion from Amberheart, was introduced to the table, lightly nodding. She wore a white-and-gold ensemble, and her sword glimmered at her hip—she was the Lionhearts' heir, serving as witness tonight.

When Lyona took her seat, Naoko motioned for her to remain. jin slipped from the table without fanfare. His long coat's tail flicked over polished stone. He moved with the ease of a shadow after sunset. They were all quiet for a breath before Naoko spoke, voice still measured: "Once he returns with the groom's wines, we will begin."

Amelia simply nodded, her gloved hand drifting to the pendant at her throat—a phoenix feather carved into amber. Lyona looked at Rina, who sat stiff but composed next to her mother. Rina's hair was held still, eyes alert despite the anxious press of her lips. She had changed into a gown of deep obsidian velvet, its shoulders bare. Her cheeks still held a blush even now. She lowered her eyes as Jien re-entered.

He carried two goblets of crimson wine—finely scented. He placed them before mother and daughter. His demeanor remained calm, but the sharp angle of his chin and the way his eyes glanced between them suggested something deeper—a steel resolve curled in liquid form.

He took his own seat across from Rina. Sparks of electricity passed between them—something electric and intimate, yet stiffened by ritual. Flames of expectation rose in the spaces between.

Naoko lifted her glass. "For the pledge," she said softly, voice smooth as frost.

Glass met glass. Amelia sipped first, then Lyona, then Naoko, then jin. Finally, Rina raised it uncertainly and tasted. The burgundy sweetness smoldered on her tongue—warm and potent.

Naoko laid her glass down and broke the silence. "Rina Amberheart, you are now the betrothed of my son. By this token, you accept House Rochey and its duties."

Rina swallowed hard. She felt the gaze of everyone, a current rippling at her spine. She let her glass settle, her hands trembling.

"I... accept," she said softly. Her voice carried under the vaulted ceiling, as if the stones themselves recorded her vow. In her chest, her heart slammed—RAF!—like an ancient drum.

jin spoke next. He dipped his goblet in a subtle bow. "I, jin rotschy, take you, Rina Amberheart, as my wife. May our union strengthen both families and our paths remain bound."

The wine tasted bitter now but full. Rina caught his eye. He held it for a heartbeat, steady and distant, before glancing away. A whirlwind spun behind her ribs.

From a velvet box on the table, the ceremonial rings were produced—silver bands engraved with intertwined phoenix and crescent moon. Naoko handed them to Jien, who passed one to Rina.

Rina felt the cool metal as it slipped on her finger—an unfamiliar warmth echoed in her heart. She lifted his hand, trembling, and slid the matching ring onto his slender finger. It rested there as if it belonged. Their eyes met. For the first time tonight, Jien's expression softened—something real flickered in his crimson depths.

At that moment, the weight of everything shifted. Politics, duty, legacy—they were all present. But beneath all that lay something else. A fragile seed planted in a moment of mutual understanding.

A hush followed them.

The candles flickered, their flame dancing across Jien's dark profile and Rina's warm expression. Amelia and Naoko exchanged a glance—distant echoes of rivalries and alliances, intertwined at this table of destiny.

Rina swallowed again. "We are married now," she whispered.

jin nodded—just the slightest incline—but his eyes held her longer. He spoke softly, so only she heard: "Yes. Married."

And in that quiet moment, buried under ancestral weight and moonless power, something new began to glow.

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