The herald's voice rang once more through the grand hall.
"The Member of the Septaron… Rian Brox."
The atmosphere changed instantly.
Even the air felt heavier.
The Septaron—seven chosen leaders who ruled the underworld from the shadows. Not petty criminals. Not common gangs. These were the unseen architects of trade routes, information networks, black markets, and silent wars. When they gathered, nations trembled quietly.
And this man—
Rian Brox.
Fifth among them.
He stepped forward with smooth arrogance, dressed not in royal silk but in tailored black and deep wine-red. No crown. No jewels.
Yet his presence carried weight.
He bowed properly to the throne.
"Your Majesties."
Polished.
Measured.
Civil.
But everyone in the hall knew.
Men like him smiled before they destroyed you.
Queen Marlia's eyes were calm, but sharp as glass.
"Why," she asked evenly, "does one of the Septaron grace our court today?"
No fear in her tone.
Only inquiry.
Rian's lips curved faintly.
"With all due respect, Your Majesty," he said smoothly, "I have come with sincere intentions."
His gaze shifted to Nael.
Steady.
Calculating.
"I wish to request Prince Nael's hand in marriage."
The hall erupted in murmurs.
Nael's fingers tightened against the armrest. 'Who the hell are these people coming here like flies on sweets.'
If this ridiculous selection day didn't end soon…
Queen Marlia's answer came without hesitation.
"That cannot be done."
No softness.
No negotiation.
Rian's smile did not disappear.
But it thinned.
"So," he replied lightly, though his eyes cooled, "Your Majesty wishes to make the Septaron an enemy?"
A quiet threat.
Not loud.
But unmistakable.
"I am a member of septaron," he added calmly. "I do not come lightly."
Several nobles paled.
The Septaron did not fight openly.
They dismantled economies.
They erased reputations.
They made accidents happen.
Before tension could thicken further—
King Alaric spoke.
"Oh? Member of septaron, you say."
His tone was almost conversational.
"Then you must be familiar with one of the Four Pillars."
A pause.
"'Noir.'"
The name dropped into the hall like a stone into deep water.
Silence.
Complete.
Even the boldest nobles lowered their eyes.
Noir.
One of the Four Pillars of the shadow world. Unlike the Septaron, who governed collectively, the Pillars stood individually—unpredictable, untouchable, and terrifying in their reach.
No one knew Noir's true face.
But everyone knew the results.
Rian's expression changed for the first time.
Just slightly.
King Alaric continued calmly, "He happens to be… an acquaintance of mine."
The implication was clear.
You threaten us with seven.
We answer with one.
And that one outweighs you.
Rian's jaw tightened.
Still—
He pressed on.
"But I truly love your son."
Nael nearly stood up.
Love? When did he huh!
If not for decorum—if not for the fact that half the continent was watching—
He would have walked straight out.
This absurd day.
This absurd parade of men measuring him like territory.
King Alaric's gaze hardened.
"Your affection is neither requested nor returned."
Queen Marlia added coolly, "And coercion disguised as devotion is insulting."
The rejection was absolute.
Rian understood.
He could not play dirty here.
Not with Noir's name hanging in the air like a silent executioner.
The member of the Septaron bowed again—this time lower.
"Understood."
His voice had lost its earlier smoothness.
He turned without another word.
The heavy doors closed behind him.
Only then did the tension release.
Marcus let out a slow breath. "That was worse than Alvantia."
Ravel muttered, "At least the prince only had an army."
Adrien's eyes drifted thoughtfully toward the king.
Leo remained behind Nael, steady as ever.
The massive doors shut behind Rian Brox, and the hall slowly began to breathe again.
Nael, however, was done.
Completely done.
He leaned back slightly in his seat, fingers pressing against his temple. What in the world is happening today? First a foreign prince offering "protection," and now underworld figures casually requesting marriage like this was a marketplace.
"What the hell are underworld people doing here…" he muttered under his breath. "And who exactly are these Four Pillars everyone looks terrified about?"
Leo leaned down slightly, voice low enough that only Nael could hear.
"The Four Pillars," he whispered, "were established as guardians of the underworld balance. Different from the Septaron."
Nael blinked.
Leo continued calmly, "The Septaron rule the underworld—trade, territory, networks. But the Four Pillars stand above that structure. They don't govern. They correct."
Nael's brows knit together.
"If we speak of highest authority," Leo added quietly, "it would be the Four Pillars."
Nael stared ahead, watching another noble adjust his sleeves nervously in line.
"So there are people above the seven most powerful mafia leaders…" he murmured. "Wonderful. Exactly what I wanted to learn on my engagement day."
Leo almost smiled but restrained himself.
Nael let out a long, exhausted breath and straightened in his seat again, irritation simmering.
"Whatever," he said under his breath. "Let's start our commotion properly. I'm tired of sitting here the whole day."