Chapter 25: The Grand Duke's Heir
The grand ballroom, adorned with cascading chandeliers and banners bearing the Everhart crest, remained lively even as the night deepened. Nobles continued their conversations, their polished masks of courtesy concealing their ambitions and hidden motives.
Leonhardt Valerian Everhart stood near the towering windows, gazing outside with disinterest. His fiery red eyes, flecked with gold, reflected the moonlight, making him appear even more ethereal. The celebration was supposedly in his honor, yet he found little amusement in the pointless chatter of the nobles who gathered before him, eager to leave lasting impressions.
His mind, as always, remained occupied with something far greater. The seal. The binding chains that kept her away. Even now, he could feel something—faint, yet undeniable—like a whisper in the depths of his soul. She was reaching, struggling, just as he was.
A nobleman approached, his sharp eyes betraying his curiosity. "Your Grace," the man said smoothly, bowing respectfully, "I must say, your son is truly the pride of the empire. His presence alone commands respect."
His father, Grand Duke Everhart, stood nearby, watching silently as the nobles tested the waters with their carefully chosen words.
Leonhardt offered only a shallow nod in response. Respect? These people only revered power, and he had just begun to show them a glimpse of his.
As the nobleman retreated, a group of young ladies hesitated nearby, stealing glances at him while whispering behind their fans.
One of them, a duke's daughter with golden curls, finally gathered enough courage to step forward. "Y-Your Grace," she stammered, lowering her head, "I… I wish to congratulate you on your birthday. It is an honor to be here."
Leonhardt's expression did not change. He had seen this countless times already—girls attempting to gain favor, nobles subtly pushing their daughters forward. It was laughable. They were nothing.
"I see," he said simply, his voice smooth but cold.
The girl trembled slightly, but she forced a smile. "I have heard of your talents, Your Grace. Surely, with such strength, you will lead the empire into a new era…"
Her words trailed off as she met his gaze fully. The weight of it—the sheer pressure of his presence—made her throat dry.
Leonhardt had no need for foolish sentiments or shallow admiration. These people thought they could win his favor? Ridiculous.
"If that is all," he said indifferently, "then do not waste my time."
The girl's face paled, and she quickly retreated, her friends rushing to console her. Murmurs spread through the ballroom, but no one dared to challenge his words. He was, after all, the heir to the strongest Grand Duchy in the empire.
His mother, watching from afar, merely chuckled, amused by the scene. His father gave him a knowing look but said nothing.
It was expected.
Leonhardt was not one to indulge in meaningless affairs.
The night wore on, and eventually, the event neared its conclusion. The nobles gave their final farewells, and the guests gradually departed. The Everhart estate would return to its usual silence—something Leonhardt welcomed.
As he made his way to his chambers, his thoughts drifted once more to the only thing that truly mattered.
The seal.
And her.
No matter how long it took, no matter the obstacles in his way—he would break it.
They would be reunited.