Reaching his chambers, Kaelith found the maids already waiting.
"Is something wrong?" he asked, eyeing them suspiciously.
One of them stepped forward with a stiff bow.
"My Lord, the King requests you prepare for the ball. His exact words were: 'Try not to look like a washed-up curse.'"
Kaelith blinked, unamused.
"How poetic. Tell him I'll arrive fashionably late and emotionally unstable."
'Piece of shit.'
Just then, a maid entered carrying neatly folded robes trimmed in silver and deep midnight blue.
Another followed behind her, balancing a tray of scented oils and enchanted accessories.
"Your bath is ready, My Lord. Please come with us."
"Oh… right. Okay," Kaelith muttered, following them with a sigh.
Inside the bathing chamber, steam rose around him, thick with the scent of moon-lotus and salt crystals.
As he eased into the marble tub, the heat seeped into his bones, loosening tension he hadn't realized he was carrying.
'Maybe I'll just drown in here and save everyone the trouble.
No. I've already died once. You don't get a second try.'
The maids worked in silence, carefully scrubbing his skin, combing the tangles from his hair, and smoothing enchanted oils over his shoulders.
One maid murmured gently, "We'll make you look handsome, My Lord."
Another added with a smile, "Yes, Prince Caelum won't dare look at anyone else tonight."
Kaelith rolled his eyes.
"Do what you must, ladies. But don't say that bastard's name in front of me."
"Yes, My Lord. Forgive us," they said quickly, lowering their heads.
He glanced down at them, then tilted his head slightly.
"Now, tell me… what are your names?"
The room fell quiet.
All three maids blushed, clearly startled. None of them answered right away.
Kaelith blinked.
'What? Did I say something wrong?'
He frowned, genuinely confused by their silence.
"What's the matter?" he asked.
A maid with warm brown hair finally stepped forward, her voice shy at first.
"It's nothing, My Lord. We were just… surprised. You've never asked us for our names before. It's an honor. Many people would give anything to hear the prince say their name."
Kaelith's brows drew together, thoughtful.
'So the former Kaelith wasn't all bad… or maybe just distant.
This could be my chance to learn more about this body and the life it lived.'
"I see…" he said softly. "I thought I had a terrible reputation."
The brown-haired maid lifted her eyes. "No, My Lord. You don't. Many of us look up to you. We know the last three days have been difficult, and we don't believe you would ever hurt yourself like that."
He glanced at her, curious. "Are you speaking for others… or just for yourself?"
Another maid gently helped dry him with a soft towel as the brown-haired one bowed slightly.
"I speak for myself," she said. "But I believe my fellow maids would agree with me."
Kaelith nodded slowly, lips tugging in a faint smirk.
"Alright then… we'll leave this talk for another day."
His gaze shifted to her again, more relaxed now.
"But for now—your names?"
She straightened a little, her voice firm and proud this time.
"My name is Mira. This is Garde," she gestured to the tall girl with short-cropped hair, "and this is Saraj," nodding toward the youngest, who bowed quickly.
Kaelith let the names settle in his mind, then gave them a small, thoughtful nod.
"Thank you."
The three maids smiled, then quietly began to dress him.
Robes of black and silver were draped over his shoulders, the fabric hugging his frame like a second skin.
Soft threads shimmered faintly with rune-magic, each one pulsing subtly with power.
The deep V-neckline exposed the glowing runes etched near his collarbone—silent proof of his warlock blood.
An onyx chain dangled from one ear, catching the light with every movement.
A hint of coral-red gloss had been brushed across his lips, just enough to enhance the shape of his mouth.
Around his waist, a storm-thread sash was cinched tightly, dangerous, elegant, and unapologetically stunning.
The final touch: a single gemstone, dark and iridescent, pinned to his shoulder like a silent crest.
"There," Garde whispered, stepping back to admire their work. "You don't look cursed, My Lord. You look like a rare beauty."
Kaelith gave her a crooked smile. "No. I look worse."
"Worse?" she blinked, confused.
"I look… expensive," he said with a laugh.
The maids chuckled, instantly relaxing at his humor. It wasn't every day the prince joked with them—if ever.
Kaelith stepped out of the bath chamber and moved toward the mirror. For a moment, he just stared at his reflection.
'Damn. This body is hot,' he thought, unable to help the amused smirk tugging at his lips.
"Tonight, everyone will be staring at you, My Lord," Mira said softly behind him.
The other two nodded in agreement, clearly proud of their work.
Kaelith's eyes remained on his reflection, but his voice was calm, cool.
"Let them stare," he muttered.
Then he turned, chin high, robes sweeping behind him, and strode confidently out of the room.
****
The herald's voice rang through the grand ballroom:
"Presenting His Royal Highness, Crown Prince Kaelith, son of the illustrious Great King Malrec III!"
The room fell into complete silence.
Heads turned. Eyes locked. Every conversation died as Kaelith stepped into the glow of the chandeliers, his presence slicing through the stillness like a blade.
And why wouldn't they stare?
He was the strongest warlock in the kingdom. A living legend in silk and silver.
Kaelith didn't flinch beneath the weight of their gazes—he'd grown used to attention long before this night.
But the moment his eyes found him, his stride almost faltered.
There he was. The sea-bastard himself. Prince Caelum.
Lounging like the ocean incarnate, utterly composed, as if he ruled the world with nothing but his indifference.
"Gods." He muttered to himself
'Why do people like that exist?' he sighed as he took a step forward.
'How dare someone look like a damn oil painting brought to life—and still have the nerve to act bored by it all?'
Tall. Carved from salt and sin. Eyes like a dying storm. A jawline that could slice steel in half.
'I hate him. I hate that he's hot.'
'And worst of all?, I hate that my stomach just flipped because of him. This is humiliating. I'm going to drown in my own hormones, and that smug sea prince won't even blink.'
'Why am I the one staring? It should be him. He should be the one staring.'
Kaelith inhaled slowly and forced his expression back into something neutral.
But deep down?
He already knew this was going to be a disaster.
Kaelith took a slow breath, letting the weight of the stares slide off him like mist from stone.
Chin raised, steps steady, he walked deeper into the ballroom. Each stride was quiet but confident.
His eyes swept across the room—nobles glittering in jewels, grand chandeliers shining above, music hanging in the air like a storm about to break.
His seat was near the high table, draped in silver and black, clearly marked for him.
'Of course. No hiding. Right up front, watching my own disaster unfold.'
He reached his chair and sat down gracefully, the silver-and-black robes flowing around him like shadows.
Just as he relaxed, a sharp voice spoke beside him.
"Your Highness."
A young noble leaned in. His gold-trimmed cloak, too many rings, and sly smile made Kaelith instantly wary.
"You look… surprisingly well. Considering everything."
Kaelith gave him a cold side glance. "Considering what?"
"Oh, you know," the noble said, waving a jeweled hand. "The rumors. The poisoning. The lake. And now—marrying Prince Caelum?" He raised a brow, too eager. "Why him? Why so sudden?"
Kaelith smiled without warmth, still staring ahead. "Curiosity can be dangerous. Especially when it's aimed at the wrong person."
The noble hesitated, let out a nervous chuckle, but Kaelith didn't look at him again.
Still, the whispers in the room grew louder. Soft and sharp, like silk threads lined with blades.
"Did you hear he almost died?"
"I thought he hated the sea."
"Someone said he fell for Prince Caelum at first sight…"
"What? No way. Wasn't he in love with Virelle?"
"Shh! Not so loud. He doesn't know she's still alive. That woman…"
'Idiots.' Kaelith thought, rolling his eyes.
But then his heart skipped.
'Wait… what? Virelle is still alive?'
He quickly scanned the guests, eyes searching for whoever had whispered those words.