SSS Talent: From Trash to Tyrant-Chapter 461: A New Seat Among the Eight [III]

Trafalgar had already greeted too many people.

One after another they kept coming. Nobles, merchants, envoys, people from houses he had never cared about and people who, until recently, would not even have looked at him twice. Now they smiled, bowed, introduced themselves, and acted as if they had always wanted to know him.

It was exhausting. So his answers became shorter. Colder. Dry enough that even the people approaching him could feel he was not in the mood to play along.

A dwarf merchant eventually stepped forward, wearing more gold than anyone else Trafalgar had seen in the hall so far. Rings, chains, jeweled clasps, a cane with a bright gemstone at the top. The man looked expensive in the loudest way possible. He smiled broadly. "It is an honor to meet you, Trafalgar du Morgain. My name is Richard au Rockford. I have heard much about your achievements over this past year, and this is the first time I have had the chance to finally meet you in person." He extended his hand with practiced confidence.

Trafalgar looked at it, listened to everything the dwarf had to say, and then simply replied, "Likewise."

And walked past him. Leaving the man’s hand hanging in the air.

For a second, silence. Then a few nearby nobles failed to hide their amusement. Some laughed openly. Richard au Rockford’s face turned red almost instantly. He pulled his hand back with visible stiffness, his mouth tightening as the humiliation settled over him far more heavily than the gold on his body ever could.

As he turned away, Trafalgar heard the muttered words clearly enough.

"Damn bastard."

He let it pass this time around. He was not about to get angry just because some dwarf had felt humiliated after trying to profit from a conversation that had never meant anything in the first place.

That was the problem with all of this. None of them had wanted anything to do with him before. But now that his name carried weight, now that the war had changed how people looked at him, they all suddenly remembered he existed.

Trafalgar kept walking through the hall, already tired of the game.

A waiter passed by with a silver tray full of wine glasses. Trafalgar took one without much thought.

At almost the same time, another hand reached for a second glass. He turned his head slightly.

Zafira du Zar’khael.

Her pale skin looked as flawless as ever, smooth like porcelain beneath the light of the hall. Two black horns curved from her forehead, elegant and sharp, resembling Lord Malakar’s enough that the bloodline was obvious at a glance. Her grey eyes matched the dress she wore tonight, a refined shade that looked expensive in the right way, far more elegant than loud. Like always, her clothes highlighted her figure easily, but Trafalgar’s gaze remained exactly where it should.

For the first time in a while, he felt something close to relief.

Before speaking to her, he looked at the nobles still hovering around him. "Excuse me, but could you all leave us for a moment? I’d like to speak with Zafira du Zar’khael privately."

That was enough. The people around them exchanged glances and backed away without protest. Two heirs of Great Families speaking privately was not something lesser nobles wanted to interfere with too openly.

"Hello, Zafira. I’m glad to finally see a familiar face among all these people," Trafalgar said once they had some space.

Zafira smiled faintly and took a sip from her glass. "That is what happens when you become the center of attention in the room. Despite all the incredible people here tonight, you are still the one drawing the most eyes." Her gaze moved over his face with calm amusement. "Judging by your expression, I would say you are not enjoying it."

"If everyone approaching me only wants to gain something, then no, I’m not enjoying it." He glanced around the hall. "Honestly, you appearing here saved me. I can finally breathe."

"Hm." Her smile deepened slightly. "I heard about what you did in the war. I’m not surprised you’re the center of attention. You earned it." She took another small sip. "And I already knew you had exceptional talent, but I did not expect an SSS."

Trafalgar’s eyes narrowed slightly. "The rumors spread that quickly?"

Several people nearby went still. Zafira noticed and looked amused. "They do. Why didn’t you tell me?"

"You know why." He glanced around the hall once more. Too many people were listening. "Let’s go somewhere else."

Zafira lowered her glass slightly, then nodded. "Fine. Follow me."

Zafira led him out of the main hall without looking back. Trafalgar followed her through one of the side corridors, away from the noise, the music, and the endless weight of watching eyes. The farther they moved from the banquet, the quieter it became. The halls here were high and lavish, built with the kind of luxury that reminded him of old earthly royalty. White stone, gold-lined arches, tall windows, polished floors, and mana-lamps set into the walls like captured stars.

For a few seconds, neither of them said anything.

"I understand that I belong to a rival family," Zafira said while walking ahead of him, her voice quieter now. "But you know you can trust me, right?" She glanced at him from the corner of her eye. "We’ve been friends since we were children."

Trafalgar said nothing.

A little later, they reached a familiar part of the structure. His eyes shifted slightly. ’This is where I first met Rhosyn.’ Back then she had not been Rhosyn to him. She had been the Veiled Woman. The memory passed through his mind quickly as Zafira pushed open the balcony door.

Cool air greeted them at once. And someone else was already there.

A lycan stood near the edge of the balcony, smoking as he looked out over the clouds. Even dressed in noble attire, he was still easy to recognize. His build was leaner than most warriors, but there was nothing soft about him. Amber eyes. Wolf ears that twitched slightly at the sound of the door. A tail moving behind him with quiet life. A sharp, toothy mouth partially hidden behind the cigarette hanging from it. The suit was expensive, dark, and properly tailored, but it still looked like something worn by a dangerous beast forced into noble clothing.

Augusto.

Zafira stopped when she saw he was there. "Sorry. We’ll find another balcony."

"It’s fine," Trafalgar said before she could turn away. "I know him." He stepped forward and spoke with calm familiarity. "Hello, Augusto. It’s been a while."

Augusto turned. The moment he saw Trafalgar, the cigarette slipped right out of his mouth and fell off the balcony, disappearing into the clouds below. "Shit, my cigarette."

For a second, he just stared. Then his sharp grin slowly returned. "It’s been a while, Trafalgar."