The atmosphere in the grand ballroom was so thick it felt chewable, packed with imported perfume, fancy candle wax, and the unmistakable smell of rich people stressing themselves into an early grave. A large space had conveniently opened around the high-profile gathering near the refreshment tables, while the surrounding nobles watched from a safe distance like spectators waiting for reality TV drama to kick off.

"Greetings, Prince Gillian, Princess Iryna," Philia murmured, his velvety voice easily cutting through the distant hum of the orchestra. "I trust the Capital’s hospitality has not been too overwhelming for our esteemed guests from Solaric?"

He straightened up slowly, a serene, blindingly radiant smile settling onto his flawless features. He tilted his head slightly, his gaze sweeping over the siblings. "Are you enjoying the party, Your Highnesses?"

Prince Gillian and Princess Iryna exchanged a brief, highly amused glance before their eyes simultaneously flicked over to Cherion. The sharp, silent memory of the hilarious juice-spraying incident from earlier, combined with the spectacle of Cherion’s forced tango with Philia, was clearly still fresh in their minds.

"Yes," Gillian replied with a rich, rumbling chuckle, his shoulders shaking slightly as he looked directly at the disgruntled Northern intern. "Thanks to a certain someone, this evening has been incredibly entertaining. More than we ever could have anticipated."

Iryna covered her mouth with a delicate hand, her eyes crinkling with silent laughter as she nodded in agreement.

Philia’s smile didn’t waver for a single fraction of a second. "Is that so? It is good to hear," he replied smoothly, his tone warm and entirely pleasant.

But across the small circle, Cherion wasn’t listening to the pleasantries. His brain was firing on all cylinders, hyper-focused. He watched Philia’s every move, his eyes tracking the slight shift of the man’s shoulders, the precise angle of his head, the subtle movement of his hands beneath his draped sleeves. He didn’t let the villain out of his sight for even a single heartbeat.

What is he up to? Cherion thought, his gaze intense enough to burn a hole through Philia’s expensive silk coat. A guy like him doesn’t just wander over here to make small talk after dancing with his supposed enemy. He’s planning something.

The sheer intensity of Cherion’s glare was practically radiating off him in waves.

"You’re staring too much," a deep, low rumble whispered directly against the shell of Cherion’s ear.

Zarius stepped closer to Cherion, his imposing presence creating an almost instinctive shield around him. The Grand Duke’s sharp amber werewolf eyes were fixed on Philia as well, but his immediate attention was on the tense, rigid posture of his partner.

Cherion didn’t look back at Zarius. He didn’t even shift his head. His eyes remained locked dead-center on Philia’s smiling face. "Hhmm," Cherion muttered under his breath, giving a completely distracted, non-committal hum as his fingers tightened slightly on the fabric of his own sleeve.

Gillian, entirely oblivious to the heavy, silent tension vibrating between the Northern werewolves and Philia, turned his full attention back to Crown Prince’s fiancé. "And I must praise your dancing as well, Lord Philia," the Solaric prince spoke up, gesturing lightly with his hand. "It was a truly remarkable performance out there. A testament to the Auzelian’s grace."

Philia placed a delicate hand over his chest, bowing his head once more with a display of profound gratitude. "You flatter me, Your Highness. Thank you," Philia replied. He looked up at Cherion, his gaze steady and unsettlingly difficult to interpret. "Though, I must admit, I also had a truly great partner to work with tonight."

Cherion’s eyebrow twitched, but he maintained his mocking, completely unbothered smile, refusing to give the mastermind the satisfaction of a reaction.

Before the silence could grow awkward, Marielle stepped forward, her bright, innocent eyes blinking as she looked at Philia. A look of genuine, literal worry crossed her features. "Um, Philia... what about the Crown Prince? Is he alright?" she asked, referring to the disastrous spraying accident that had left the imperial heir drenched in fruit juice earlier.

Philia turned his flawless smile toward Marielle, his expression softening into one of gentle reassurance. "Of course he is fine, Lady Marielle. Thank you for your kind concern. His Highness has already changed into fresh attire and is currently mingling happily with the other nobles on the upper pavilion."

Philia paused, his gaze smoothly drifting back across the table until it landed squarely on Cherion. The sweetness in his eyes turned chillingly cold, though his smile remained perfectly intact.

"Let’s hope no other guest will do the exact same thing to His Highness tonight, right?" Philia continued, his voice carrying a soft, dangerous edge that made the surrounding nobles shift uncomfortably. He let out a light, airy chuckle. "Though... I suppose only a very few select people in this entire room would ever dare to do such a shocking thing like that."

Reiner crossed his arms, letting out a sharp, protective huff from behind Cherion, but Cherion simply widened his mocking smile, tilting his head as if he found Philia’s veiled threat incredibly amusing.

Philia didn’t push the matter further. Instead, he smoothly turned toward a nearby serving table where a servant was standing with a silver tray. He reached out, his delicate fingers wrapping around a crystal glass filled with a vibrant, deep crimson liquid.

Raising the glass high, Philia faced Zarius and Cherion, his posture the absolute picture of a loyal capital noble honoring the military elite.

"On that note, allow me to congratulate you, Lord Zarius, on another successful subjugation," Philia announced loudly enough for the nearby crowd to hear. "I pray that the North shall continue to stand steadfast in its duty and forever safeguard our borders."

Philia brought the glass to his lips and took a slow, elegant sip. As the liquid hit his tongue, his eyes widened slightly in genuine surprise. He lowered the glass, staring at the deep red color swirling against the crystal.

"Pardon me, but is this particular liquor brought forth from Solaric?" Philia asked, looking toward Gillian and Iryna with a look of pure admiration. "What an absolute delicacy. It has such a unique, beautiful red color, too."

"It is a specialized vintage from our home," Princess Iryna replied, a touch of royal pride bleeding into her tone.

"Splendid," Philia murmured smoothly, setting the glass back down onto the servant’s tray with a gentle click. He gave one final, beautifully serene bow to the entire group, his eyes locking onto Iryna for a fraction of a second. "Please enjoy the party until the end, Your Highnesses."

With those final, lingering words, Philia excused himself. He turned away with Valen following silently at his side.

Cherion didn’t take his eyes off him until Philia smoothly glided into a completely different circle of high-ranking capital nobles across the room, instantly laughing and conversing as if he hadn’t just stood in a circle of enemies.

There was nothing weird. So far.

Yet, the unease in Cherion’s chest didn’t go away.