The weight of their stares felt familiar. This one in awe, and he felt proud while that one...
It took him back to Kokoro's birthday, weeks before school started. The air in the grand ballroom hung thick and metallic, charged with an almost primal hostility. Eyes like daggers tracked him; whispers that felt like screams slithered through the opulence. The glittering teeth, the rich fabrics, the jewels – it was all a mask. To Marquis, stepping into that room felt like stepping into a bloodbath.
He walked forward, each step deliberate. Right foot leads. Dominance. The thought echoed his butler's calm command. Above him, the chandelier sparkled dully, unable to dim the intensity of the eyes locked onto him. Light bathed his figure, drawing every detail into sharp focus. His blue hair, tied neatly back, shimmered under the glow. His glasses—an odd choice to some—perched firmly on his nose.
"Glasses add a sense of wonder. They shield your eyes behind a screen. It's better that way—you won't falter under their gaze." His father's voice, Alphonse, steadied him as he ascended the podium. His robe, deep blue with subtle gold accents, billowed slightly with each step. A nod to Kokoro's birthday—an intimate detail only a few would recognize.
Marquis's eyes scanned the massive hall, searching for jet-black hair among the sea of faces set with pride and suspicion. Ryuji must be here. He has to be. He felt their gazes—greedy, lustful, envious—like serpents coiling beneath polished exteriors. Fury bubbled beneath his composed surface.
"You got this," Kai whispered from nearby, his smile unwavering despite the palpable tension.
The microphone stood before him. His father wasn't here. His mother was dead. The de Lorraine name pressed down on him like a physical weight. Keep your voice low. The mic carries the weight. He forced the corners of his lips up slightly. Smile—not too wide, just enough to show your teeth. A disarming smile in the heat of political warfare is your greatest weapon against your enemies.
"Listen. You joke around, but when it's time to be serious, I expect you to be." His father's sharp voice intruded. Marquis's jaw tightened infinitesimally, his posture snapping even straighter. Understood, he thought, the words echoing silently.
His sudden stillness drew attention. Conversations paused. Some turned from their drinks; others clung to their cups like lifelines. A man's laughter erupted in the distance, drawing Marquis's gaze briefly.
"Tonight," Marquis began, his voice low and steady, amplified just enough by the microphone, "we gather to discuss the affairs of District Nexus, following the death of its king." He let the words settle. "Though his son, Julius Draven Vortemis IX—soon to be Sovereign Ruler—couldn't join us, preoccupied with his duties." A ripple of knowing murmurs. Marquis let out a short, sharp laugh. "But that is none of our business, right?"
Polite, uneasy laughter echoed back. Marquis saw the calculation in their eyes. Liars.
Kai shifted on the bench, his snore hitching for a second before resuming its soft rhythm.
"Esteemed officials, honored emissaries," Marquis continued, his tone artificially lightening. "But there's something… curious. How every head of the Stem traces their lineage directly to the founders of your districts." He paused, letting the observation hang. A faint smile touched his lips, but his eyes were cold. "Funny, isn't it?" He leaned slightly towards the mic, his voice dropping to a deliberate, provocative murmur. "It makes you wonder... if someone truly desired it, couldn't they challenge that lineage? Perhaps even claim leadership for themselves?"
The room froze. A wave of palpable unease swept through the crowd. Sharp intakes of breath, the clink of a glass set down too hard. Murmurs broke out, urgent and low.
"How old is he again?" The hissed question sliced through the tension.
Marquis smirked, raising his hands in mock surrender. Let them choke on it. "It's just a joke. No need to get tense. Enjoy the night." He clapped his hands together, but his confidence flickered as the grand doors swung open.
Anna entered, her posture regal. Beside her was Elara, but Marquis's focus narrowed. Anna's gown—a voluminous pink confection—caught the light. Jewelry adorned her neck, wrists, fingers, and hair, sparkling. Yet, as she stepped further into the light, Marquis saw the tension in her jaw, the faint tremor in her hand as she smoothed her skirt.
"Beautiful," Marquis whispered, the word escaping before he could censor it.
Stepping down from the podium, he adjusted his robe and moved toward Kokoro, who greeted him with a warm, genuine smile.
"You'd think you'd talk about me, since it's my special day, wouldn't you?" Kokoro laughed, tone teasing, expression forgiving.
Marquis flushed, the rigid tension melting slightly from his shoulders under Kokoro's easy presence. Kokoro's pat on his back was grounding.
"Ryuji?" Marquis asked, seizing the chance.
"The boy's still in the city," Kokoro replied thoughtfully. "But he'll come to register for school soon enough. You know how he is…"
As Kokoro's voice trailed off, Marquis turned away, his thoughts shifting.
"Gotcha," Marquis whispered, walking toward Anna. He turned to Kai and gave a quick, subtle hand sign—a pinky twirl.
Kai's eyes snapped open. He stood up immediately, his movements sharp despite the ridiculous constriction of his black suit. He tugged at his sleeves and stretched, the fabric resisting.
"There's an arcade here, right?" Kai asked as they walked towards Anna and Elara.
Anna lingered near the entrance, her gaze flicking between the intricate parquet floor and Elara. Her shoulders were tight, almost hunched. Marquis watched as her fingers plucked nervously at the hem of her dress.
"Two-man job, bro," Kai said, jerking his chin toward the effortlessly radiant Elara.
"There is an arcade," Marquis said, flashing a grin. The words came easily, but his chest tightened as Anna's gaze finally met his. He saw her flinch almost imperceptibly, her brow knitting for a fraction of a second before she quickly looked down at her hands.
They approached the group where Henri stood nearby, surveying the room with proprietary disdain. Henri carried his usual expression—which Marquis interpreted as a sneer. His smile stretched wide and false when he noticed them approaching. He adjusted his shimmering robe, its aggressive opulence impossible to ignore. Of course, he knew it was Kokoro's birthday. Henri would never miss a chance to overshadow him. Typical Henri, Marquis thought, his own fingers curling loosely at his sides.
"Good evening, boys," Henri said, his voice dripping with saccharine politeness.
"Oh," Anna breathed out softly, the sound barely audible, as Henri strutted off after a moment. She shifted her weight from foot to foot.
Marquis turned to her, his grin softening into something less practiced. "Care for a dance?" he asked, keeping his tone casual, though a flicker of hesitation crossed his face. He held himself relaxed, but the silence stretched taut in his mind.
Anna frowned. Her fingers twisted the fabric of her skirt. "I don't know, I've been practicing my dance, but I don't think I'm ready for—" she said softly, her voice thin with apprehension. She glanced at Elara, who offered a gentle, encouraging smile but remained silent.
Marquis forced a chuckle and waved a hand dismissively. "No, not here. I'm practically screaming to leave already. There's an arcade room on this floor." His smile widened, aiming for playful mischief to cut through the awkwardness.
Anna blinked. Her eyes darted to Kai, then back to Marquis. Her lips quirked into a small, tentative smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. "Sure, I'd love to leave," she said flatly.