Kaito stood stiff in front of the full-length mirror, jaw clenched, hands twitching at his sides.
The top they'd shoved him into was silk. Thin, white, and sleeveless, tied with a long, ridiculous bow behind his neck that drooped down his back like he was some high-end gift. A little of his back was exposed—just enough skin to make it feel intentional. The pants were cream-colored and far too tight, hugging everything from waist to ankle, leaving absolutely nothing to the imagination.
He looked like… like some pampered noble's pretty little doll.
And he hated it.
God. This outfit is a war crime.
He turned his face away from the mirror, running both hands through his hair in pure frustration. "I can't do this," he muttered under his breath, voice tight. "I look like I'm about to be auctioned off at a black market"
He grabbed a fistful of his hair and pulled, hoping it'd help wake him up from this nightmare. It didn't.
He thought, I should just run. Out of the mansion, into the woods, disappear. Maybe work in some quiet farming village. Dig potatoes. Shovel horse shit. Anything.
But then he remembered the world he was in.
This wasn't Earth. This was that game—the weird, dark fantasy one he never even finished. A world where running away could mean getting caught by human traffickers or worse, be played by some non human entities like in the game other endings. Where mc ran away from the crown prince.
"F*ck…"
He breathed out shakily and forced his hands to drop. The servants had already dressed him. His hair had been brushed and tied back neatly. He couldn't delay anymore.
Kaito followed the butler through the mansion's cold, echoing halls, each step making him feel more exposed. The pants clung like they had a personal vendetta, especially to his ass. He kept tugging at the hem of his shirt, trying to make it cover more. It didn't help.
They stopped in front of the Count's study. The butler gave him a slight nod.
"You may enter."
Kaito took a breath, knocked once.
"Come in."
He stepped in.
The room was dim, curtains drawn to shut out the sunset, with only a couple of wall lamps burning low. It smelled faintly of wine and paper. The Count stood behind the desk, one hand resting on a stack of parchment, the other holding a half-empty glass.
He looked up.
And stared.
Kaito stood there, trying not to shift under the weight of that stare. The Count's eyes were cold, sharp, unreadable—but they lingered. Not on Kaito's face. Lower.
That bow was a mistake.
The Count was younger than he'd expected. Maybe mid-thirties by appearance, but who knew how old he actually was. In this world, powerful men aged slowly, especially ones dabbling in dark magic or extending their lifespan by shady means.
"Sit," the Count said finally.
Kaito did, carefully. He kept his hands on his knees, back straight. His heart was pounding, but his face stayed calm.
"You're recovering."
"Yes," Kaito said.
A pause. Kaito was not used to formal talk especially these noble talk which is twisted into double meanings.
"Coming of age," the Count muttered, eyes narrowing slightly. "Soon."
Kaito swallowed. He didn't like the way that sounded.
"You will attend a banquet," the Count continued. "Hosted by the imperial family. In three days."
Kaito blinked. "Three days?"
"It's rare. This opportunity. We're not… high in the ranks. One of many counties. Most don't get seen."
Kaito didn't respond. He felt like a stone had dropped into his stomach.
The Count took a sip of wine, then set the glass down with a soft click. "This is your debut. You'll wear what you're told. Speak little. Smile. Do not disgrace the family."
So basically: look pretty, shut up, and try not to ruin anyone's mood.
Kaito nodded tightly. "Understood."
The Count's eyes drifted again—neck, collarbone, the open back of the silk. The gaze was cold, but it made Kaito feel like a slice of meat on a silver platter.
"You'll draw attention," the Count said. Not impressed. Not concerned. Just… noting it.
Kaito's mouth felt dry. His palms were sweaty. He had to fight the urge to wrap the bow around his own neck and vanish.
He hated this. The pressure. The looks. The idea of standing in a palace surrounded by people who could—and would—devour him with a smile.
He had no idea how to act noble for real not do he have any interest in playing politics.
But he was forcefully kicked into it.
"Dismissed," the Count said, already turning away.
Kaito stood up, gave a stiff bow, as he didn't know the etiquette well enough and left the room as fast as he could without looking panicked.
---
Back in his quarters, the moment the door shut, he groaned and collapsed face-first onto the bed. The sunset had already faded. One of the maids poked her head in.
"Shall I prepare your bath, young master?"
"No," he mumbled into the sheets. "I just wanna sleep."
"As you wish."
She left.
Kaito lay there for a while in silence.
Three days.
Three days until he was tossed into the open sea that was imperial society. Where monsters wore perfume and smiled politely before swallowing you whole.
He rolled onto his back and stared at the ceiling.
"This is bad," he whispered. "This is so bad."
He didn't know what to do. But he knew one thing: he had to survive the banquet.
Whatever it took.
____
Wishing for support ♡