Azalea POV
I always thought the Drakemonts were lazy, prideful, and completely full of shit.
So when an invitation arrived for the heir's birthday celebration, sealed in red wax and gold trim, my first instinct was to pretend it never existed. I would have, too, if my sister had not found it on my desk and sneered.
"It'll be worth your time," Helle said, already reaching for her cloak, fully prepared to go with me.
I am weak to my sister's words. I have always been. So despite knowing nothing beyond the rumors and the stories whispered by retainers, I went with her.
The Drakemont mountains rose like frozen teeth against the sky, their peaks buried beneath layers of snow that never seemed to melt.
The locals called it Frostveil Crown. Wind howled through the passes, tugging at our cloaks, numbing fingers even through thick gloves. The palace sat carved into the mountainside, dark stone half swallowed by ice, banners snapping violently overhead.
Inside, everything gleamed.
Red and gold everywhere. Firelight bouncing off polished floors. Music loud enough to drown the city. Laughter spilling from every corner, heavy and confident.
Drakemonts filled the hall, most of them redheaded and broad-shouldered. They bragged loudly about hunts, victories, wealth, and stories that seemed to grow with every retelling.
Our retainers nodded along, polite and patient, clearly used to this.
That was when I saw him.
Kenth Drakemont stood near the center of it all, exactly where an heir was supposed to be.
Everyone orbited him without quite touching. He was taller than most, his presence heavy in a way that made the space around him feel tighter.
His expression was fixed into something that might have passed for a smile if you did not look too long.
He laughed when someone near him laughed, nodded at the right moments, and raised his glass when expected.
He was terrible at it.
The poker face was amateurish, stiff at the edges. His eyes kept drifting, unfocused, like he was counting the seconds until he could escape.
People noticed, I think.
No one approached him directly. They circled instead, talked around him, talked about him, talked loudly enough that he would hear without needing to be included. There was fear mixed in with the admiration, a hesitation that did not match the celebration.
Eventually, he slipped away.
I noticed because the space he left behind felt quieter.
He pushed through the terrace doors and stepped into the cold wind outside.
I watched him from the edge of the hall, unnoticed, as he unbuttoned his collar like it was choking him. He leaned forward, hands braced against the stone railing, and let out a long, exhausted sigh that fogged in the air.
It caught me off guard.
For a moment, I wondered if I had been wrong about the Drakemonts.
Then laughter erupted behind me.
Another cluster of redheads boasting about old battles, fortunes inherited rather than earned, stories polished smooth by repetition.
I swung my wine around my glass to bring out its natural scent.
Yeah. The rumors were true.
I lifted my glass and let the red wine catch the light, angling it toward the terrace.
His figure wavered inside the curved surface, stretched and bent by the liquid.
Kenth Drakemont's face floated there, distorted and distant.
The cold blue of the mountains bled into the red, his eyes losing focus, his expression slipping out of shape.
That man there was just the weird one.
The wine rippled.
And suddenly he was running.
Dirt tore up beneath his boots as he sprinted toward our capture point, hands raised, breath visible in sharp bursts.
The image snapped cleanly into place, the past folding away as if it had never happened.
"Hostile rushing toward us!" Emma screamed.
She did not hesitate. She swung her massive hammer down into the ground, metal singing on impact. The earth answered her immediately. Cracks spidered outward, and a wave of force rolled forward, tearing loose stone and grass alike.
I moved before the shockwave reached him.
My fingers brushed the bracelet at my wrist.
A scythe slid free, summoned from storage in a soft shimmer of green light. The handle was smooth, light brown wood worn comfortably in my grip. The blade curved pale green, almost translucent, etched with veins.
I slashed the ground.
Vines burst from the ground in a wide arc, gray and thick, roots digging deep as they surged upward. They twisted together instinctively, forming a dense wall just ahead of Kenth. Emma's shockwave slammed into it and died there, swallowed by bark and root and soil.
The ground stilled.
Emma froze mid-step.
"Sorry," she said quickly. "I got in your way, my Lady Azalea."
"No," I replied, eyes still on Kenth.
"I intended to stop your attack in the first place."
I flicked my wrist and tossed the scythe upward. It dissolved mid-air, unraveling into light and thread, winding neatly back into the bracelet as if it had never existed.
"And I've told you countless times already, not to call me with honorifics," I added, finally looking at her
"I apologize," Emma said at once.
Waffel stepped in before the tension could tighten further, raising her hands in a placating gesture.
"Hey now, no need to fight. Let's breathe for a second, yeah?" She glanced between us, then smiled slightly.
"So, what's your intention, dear?" She said as she looked back towards Kenth in the front.
Kenth reached us then, slowing to a cautious stop.
His hands were still raised, shoulders tight, eyes flicking from one face to the next. He looked nervous and uneasy, as if he expected to be struck for standing in the wrong place.
For a fleeting second, I saw the reflection of that wine glass again.
He opened his mouth.
Closed it.
Opened it again.
"I… uh…"
His fingers twitched at his sides. He swallowed, Adam's apple bobbing. "I… we… um…"
Waffel tilted her head. Emma blinked.
Silence stretched, awkward and heavy.
"I'm sorry," Kenth said suddenly. "I mean, it's just I was told to ask, and this is kind of sudden and-"
I knew this look. The stiff posture. The way his eyes darted was like he was searching for an exit that did not exist. This was how he always looked when he was uncomfortable, just like at his party.
Waffel cleared her throat gently. "Ask… what exactly?"
Kenth inhaled sharply. "C.. can we be allies?"
"Huh?" Emma straightened, clearly offended.
"Just because you're the heir of Drakemont does not mean we automatically work with you."
She jabbed a finger upward.
"This is a clear abuse of power. Should I report you to Sir Heather right above us?"
Kenth shrank in on himself. His hands clenched and unclenched. He rocked slightly on his heels, fidgeting like he wanted to disappear into the grass.
That was enough.
I reached out and grabbed Emma by the ahoge.
"OW ow OW I'm sorry my lady ow ow—"
I yanked her head closer. "Honorifics."
"Ah! ow! ow! yes Azalea I'm sorry ow—"
I released her.
Emma immediately scurried over and buried her face against Waffel's chest, clinging to her like a lifeline. Waffel laughed softly and patted her head.
"There, there," she said calmly. "Everything's fine. She isn't angry with you."
Emma sniffed, rubbing her cheek against Waffel's uniform.
I turned my attention back to Waffel. "So," I asked, "what do you think?"
She tilted her head, thoughtful. "Honestly, I see no merit in accepting."
She met my gaze evenly.
"This is a group project for a reason. All the allies we need are the three of us. This test might be scored not only by how many bases we take, but also by how well we work together as a team. Accepting an offer from another group defeats the whole purpose. We could even be deducted for it."
She paused.
"Not to mention the risk of betrayal."
I nodded.
Waffel smiled faintly. "You'll still accept it, won't you?"
"You sure know me well," I replied.
At hearing that, Kenth looked up, startled. For a brief moment, hope flickered across his face before he remembered himself.
"You accepted it just like that?" he asked.
"Well," I said, "let's say I'm simply quenching my interest in you."
Emma, still buried in Waffel's chest, mumbled, "So even my lady Azalea falls in love with someone, huh. Couldn't be me."
A vein bulged in my forehead.
I grabbed her ahoge again and dragged her close.
"It seems I've been far too lenient with you lately, you brat."
Emma took one look at my face, gulped, and immediately screamed. "Waffel help me—"
Waffel sighed, crossing her arms.
"Oh dear. She really is completely mad this time."
Kenth shifted awkwardly. "Um… excuse me. Interested?"
I tossed the brat aside and exhaled slowly.
"Yeah. And don't take it the wrong way." I glanced past him. "I'm interested in you."
Then I pointed. "And that strange fellow over there."
Nagi stood a short distance away, looming over a boy like a discarded piece of garbage.
The boy was on his knees, shoulders shaking, eyes glassy, and on the verge of tears.
It was Matt.
Emma, who retreated to Waffel's arms, peeked out. "Who's that?"
Kenth turned to look. When he faced us again, the hesitation was gone. The unease vanished with it. His posture straightened, eyes hardening in a way I had not seen before.
"I don't know that guy," he said.