Dragon's Awakening: The Duke's Son Is Changing The Plot-Chapter 386 - 385 - “...just make it obvious.”

The silence that followed Bront’s declaration was suffocating.

No one dared to move, no one dared to breathe.

Even the chandeliers seemed to dim under the weight of the tension.

After all, what Bront did didn’t just destroy the festive mood—it was also disrespectful toward the Velmoria kingdom, the host of the festival.

That was when—

Clang... Clang... Clang...

A faint metallic rhythm began echoing across the marble floor.

At first, no one noticed.

They assumed it was just the lingering hum of weapons, or maybe the musicians, who were unsure whether to resume playing.

But then it got louder.

Clang-Clang! Clang!

Heads turned.

Brows furrowed.

Someone muttered, "...Is that part of the song?"

Then, before anyone could answer—

"WHAT—DO—YOU—THINK—YOU’RE—DOING?!"

BAM!

A streak of silver and scarlet armor dropped from the upper balcony, landing directly beside Raven and smacking Bront square in the back of the head.

The massive man toppled like a felled tree, crashing face-first into the polished floor.

The entire hall winced as one.

The silence that followed was deeper than before.

You could’ve heard a coin drop, if even the coin dared to break the tense silence.

And then came that voice—sweet, fierce, and very familiar.

"Seriously, Bront?! You think this was going to make you look cool?"

All eyes turned.

Standing atop the fallen vice guild master, hands on her waist, was Graye.

Her "party armor" gleamed under the chandeliers—sleek, form-fitting, lined with polished edges that shimmered with gold runes.

It was definitely designed for combat, but given how it emphasized every curve she had, it somehow looked like a royal gown forged by blacksmiths.

Raven, looking at the scene, hummed. "...I guess the duel ended before it could even begin."

"Boss, did you hear?" Omni whispered from the tattoo on his hand. "The background music just changed from ’Royal Waltz’ to ’Battle Theme for Dumb Decisions.’"

Graye crouched, grabbing Bront by the collar and yanking him upright like he weighed nothing. "Do you even realize what you just did, you lunkhead? You challenged Raven? RAVEN?!"

Bront, whose face was already leaking blood from the head smack, immediately straightened like a soldier before his commander. "Y-Young Miss—!"

It was as if this action was drilled into his head.

For a while, Graye remained silent, observing the guy as if she were a teacher evaluating a student.

Once she was done, she shook her head in pity as she entered full scolding mode.

"Honestly, Bront, I don’t know whether to be angry or embarrassed. You thought you’d get praised for challenging him? You can’t even take one hit from me without crying, you giant softie!"

Each time Bront flinched, she smacked his shoulder—or head—with her gauntleted hand, making clank sounds echo through the stunned hall.

"Look at you! Flinching again?!" Smack!

"Where’s that berserker pride?!" Smack!

"You call yourself Vice Guild Master?!" SMACK!

Bront, to his credit, stood ramrod straight through it all.

Blood trickled down his temple, but he didn’t dare make a sound.

He knew better than to interrupt Graye when she was in full battle-mom mode.

After all, he could still recall how he had once done it when they were kids, and the result was many broken bones and a few days of hospitalization.

Selena, still at the other side of the hall, teaching her "students," turned just in time to see the scene. She froze mid-spin, sighed deeply, and muttered, "...Of course it’s her."

Jessy covered her mouth, laughing softly. "Remind me never to piss Graye off."

Siris grinned. "Nah, I’d pay to watch her do that to Bront again."

"Same," Rufus added, leaning casually against a wall. "Ten out of ten form. Perfect head smack."

Meanwhile, Graye was still in the zone.

"Did you hear about the black dragon? That thing sent me flying like a pebble into a mountain, you know. And you know what? Raven defeated that! Do you honestly think you could even scratch him?!"

Bront, still silent, looked down shamefully.

"Speak up!" Graye barked. "How many hits from me can you even take?"

"One, Young Miss," Bront said instantly.

"No!" Graye smacked him again, causing him to almost fall on his ass. "You can’t even take one serious hit from me."

She made it clear that she wasn’t using her full power right now, and if she did, Bront wouldn’t just be bleeding, and that made Bront flinch.

"Now," she continued. "When you can’t take a punch from me, do you think you can survive a fight against Raven?"

Bront hesitated. "...No, Young Miss."

"Exactly!" Graye threw up her hands, exasperated. "So why in the twelve flaming pits of insanity would you—"

She stopped mid-yell as Bront finally muttered, "Because I had to."

Her brow furrowed. "Oh, really? And why is that?"

Bront’s voice dropped low. "Because... I’ve seen you since childhood, Young Miss. I’ve trained beside you, fought beside you, watched you grow stronger every year. And when I saw him—saw Raven choose another woman instead of you—"

Graye raised a hand. "Nope. Stop. Skip that part."

Bront blinked. "Eh?"

"I said skip it." Her tone was firm. "I don’t need anyone here thinking I spent more of my life with some guy other than Raven. It makes me feel... weird."

Raven, overhearing that, paused. "...She isn’t becoming a yandere, is she?"

Omni whispered, "I wouldn’t be relaxed, Boss. After all, she soft-launched her love for you to an entire royal hall."

Graye, utterly ignoring the frozen audience, gestured for Bront to continue.

He cleared his throat, face red from both the smack and embarrassment.

"A-Anyway, the Guild Master sent me to check if Raven was as strong as they say."

"And?" Graye and Raven both raised a brow.

"He’s worthy of the praises he is getting—I can feel it," replied Bront.

"So? What’s the problem here?"

Hearing that question from Graye, Bront took a deep breath and said, "He ignored you, Young Miss. He went for another girl when he had the chance to be with you, and I knew the Master would be furious if he knew that. So I just... did what Master would’ve done."

The words echoed through the hall.

Silence.

Long, awkward silence.

Raven and Graye exchanged a look, then, simultaneously, they turned toward him, wearing the same expression.

Flat stare. Half-lidded eyes. Complete disbelief.

"First of all," Graye finally spoke, her voice cutting through the silence like a whip. "Did you think you could act like my father? Are you my father?"

Bront’s mouth opened—then closed. His Adam’s apple bobbed like it was trying to escape.

Graye took a slow step forward, armor gleaming under the chandeliers as the hall collectively held its breath.

"Second," she continued, her tone deceptively calm, "just because I didn’t dance with Raven doesn’t mean he chose Selena over me."

That line alone made Bront visibly shudder. His shoulders trembled like a man waiting for his tax slip.

Before he could stammer out a word, a warm hand suddenly rested on Graye’s waist.

The room gasped.

Raven had stepped forward. His crimson eyes glinted like molten starlight as he pulled her just slightly closer—enough to make the point clear.

Selena, across the hall, glanced at it once, and looking at her ’students,’ who were waiting to see her crash out, she just shrugged before narrowing her eyes at them.

"Focus on your steps," she ordered.

Seeing her reaction, dozens of nobles and adventurers exchanged panicked glances.

Some whispered while others merely stared, wide-eyed.

Raven, however, remained unfazed. His voice was calm, confident, and just arrogant enough to silence the murmurs.

"Children," he said, eyes flicking toward Bront, "make choices. Adults take everything."

The crowd collectively inhaled, unsure whether to cheer, faint, or start writing fanfiction.

Bront blinked like someone had just spoken in another language.

"...Take everything?" He repeated, confusion plastered across his face.

Graye sighed, rubbing her temples. "He’s not getting it, is he?"

"Not even close," Raven replied dryly.

"Right." Graye turned toward him, her lips curling into a mischievous grin. "Then maybe we should show him what we mean."

Raven raised a brow, clearly intrigued but uncertain. "Show him...?"

Graye leaned in slightly, her eyes gleaming with a dangerous, playful spark.

"You know," she murmured, her tone low enough that only he could hear, "just to make it obvious."

Raven blinked once—then that slow, knowing smile crept across his face. "Oh... I see."

The hall collectively leaned forward.

Even the chandeliers seemed to flicker brighter in anticipation.

And then, in one smooth motion, Raven’s hand slid from her waist to the small of her back—steady, deliberate—and Graye, never one to back down from a challenge, rose on her toes and closed the distance.

Their lips met.

The entire hall exploded.

Gasps. Whispers. Someone actually dropped a plate.

Selena blinked twice—then smirked faintly, sipping her tea with a muttered, "Well, that was sudden."

Jessy fanned herself dramatically. "That’s—wow. Quite a way to show that he has a harem."

Siris clicked her tongue. "Lucky her. I wanted to be the one to be kissed."

Omni’s voice piped up from Raven’s tattoo, muffled but gleeful. "Boss, we just broke the royal decorum speedrun record!"

Raven chuckled inwardly, but on the outside, he continued what he was doing.

When they finally pulled apart, Raven didn’t look embarrassed. Neither did Graye.

They both looked smug.

Graye turned back toward Bront, who was staring like his entire worldview had just imploded.

"Now," she said sweetly, "do you understand?"

Bront’s lips trembled. "Y-Yes, Young Miss..."

Raven chuckled, his arm still casually draped around her waist. "Good. Then next time you feel like challenging me, make sure it’s about combat—not romance."

Graye grinned. "Because in both cases, you’ll lose."