Chương 431: 203.Late-Night Visitor 1

When the banquet officially began, my first impression wasn't splendor, and it wasn't grandeur. It was noise. Not the kind in a street tavern — forks everywhere, drunkards slapping tables. Another, more expensive kind. The crystal chandeliers blazed as if to measure every guest's lineage by refractive index. The strings laid out smoothly on top; silver, glass, dress shoes, military boots, sashes, skirt hems — everything hummed a "we are so civilized" note.

And beneath all that civilization, several hundred gazes pricked at me like fine needles, converging from every direction. I suddenly felt that being stared down a gun barrel was at least honest. A gun points one way. A crowd doesn't. As I re-entered the main hall with Maki, the band happened to switch to a new dance number. The double bass anchored the floor first, then the violins lifted, hoisting the whole ballroom into the shape of an over-wrapped dream.

The Imperial Hotel's main hall had always been luxurious to the point of illness; once formally underway, it looked even more like someone had taken the phrase "great-nation dignity" and gilded it in three dimensions. The Gothic vaults ran high, chandeliers dripping down in chains like some affluent, uneasy stalactites.

The center of the dance floor stood empty; students on either side split by faction and year, while teachers, military attachés, servers, and the band pulled the venue's perimeter into an invisible ring. The seating was perfectly reasonable. Reasonable like a trap. Federation on the east, Empire on the west.

The two student councils and principal representatives stood at the junction where gazes converged most easily — convenient for small talk, convenient for observation, and convenient for being the first ones the whole room saw if anything went wrong. I was standing in that most perfect spot for a public execution. The silver-white long wig slid down along my shoulder line, the ends brushing my bare collarbone — light as could be, yet heavier than a criminal charge in presence.

The deep-blue spaghetti-strap gown hugged my body as it fell, the fabric so smooth it was indecent, making every step feel less like walking as a person and more like some dangerous article packaged as a premium diplomatic gift. It had already been bad enough in the mirror; now that I'd been dropped under the lights for public display, the effect had upgraded from "want to die" to "picking a date to die." I'd barely steadied myself when the first wave of attacks hit.

"Wait, is that Vice President Hoshino?"

"No way. For real?"

"This is too much. The male version's a handsome guy, the female version's a long-haired beauty — where's divine justice." If divine justice were still alive, today's scene would make it jump off a building. The last line I supplied in my own head. Those second-years from my class, who during training got screamed at by the instructors like a row of sun-dried fish, had now changed into formal wear, recovered their social skills, and made their first collective move: treating me as an anthropological spectacle.

The whispers carried over from the side near the entrance, not loud, but every syllable working hard to reach my ears. That tone — excitement that couldn't be suppressed while pretending to suppress it — I knew it well. Tourists at a rare-beast exhibit, basically, except today the beast on display was wearing heels. I lifted the corners of my mouth to exactly the arc needed for diplomacy, and said to Maki, low: "I'm starting to understand why some senior officials would rather be sniped than attend a banquet."

Maki stood beside me, her white Galactic Federation military dress like a vertical line so clean it silently cut the whole scene in two. High collar, straight shoulders, silver trim, crisp trouser line, paired with that calm face naturally unfriendly to crowds — she looked less like a student, more like an official statue installed to remind people to "mind your manners." She didn't look at me, answering in a voice low enough for two.

"If you look down now, they'll only want to look harder."

"At a time like this, you sound just like the villain."

"No, I'm the Student Council president."

"Even worse." Her lips moved almost imperceptibly, like a smile, or like she couldn't be bothered to deny it. Then the second batch of familiar faces arrived. Jess, plate in hand, standing in the spot most likely to have food debris where there shouldn't be, swept her gaze between me and Maki and delivered a very fair verdict.

"It's over."

"What's over."

"The Federation's about to get a new campus legend starting tomorrow. Something like: the vice president can evolve into a handsome guy or a beauty on demand, and Kushima turns into a prince under certain lighting." I gave her a cold look.

"Why are you still eating."

"Because the Empire's dessert department deserves respect." Having said that, Jess very seriously cut a small slice of cake that looked more expensive than an ordinary officer's monthly pay, put it in her mouth, and wore the solemn expression of someone conducting cross-civilization exchange. D stood beside her, arms crossed, sweeping the room with his eyes before returning them to me.

"Disguise recognition down thirty percent. Threat rating up fifty."

"Thanks. Same cheerful way of comforting." Harvey peered over from behind like he was admiring some major military invention.

"I think I finally understand why the Empire is so keen on court intrigue."

"Why."

"If everyone dressed like this, plenty of problems that could've been solved by reason would indeed automatically escalate into civil war."

"Shut up." Akari, even in formal wear, had eyes bright as if she'd just gotten her hands on a brand-new gun.

"Hoshino, you're genuinely gorgeous."

"Thanks. Coming from you, at least that's more conscience than the gawkers." Roy whistled, cut off mid-whistle by Lan stomping on his foot from the side; his expression snapped from romantic swagger straight back to human reality.

"I was just saying the vice president looks good with long hair."

"That's clearly not what you meant." Lan exposed him expressionlessly, then turned to me.

"Still, it really is quite nice."

"Has everyone's taste broken today all at once?"

"No. Today just means the evidence is finally conclusive." Lan said. I had the growing sense that the Federation wasn't here to attend a banquet — it was here for a mass ribbing session. And the worst part: the object of their heckling wasn't only me. Because just when I'd been gawked at long enough to start wondering whether I should charge admission, the second wave of noise naturally swerved toward Maki.

"Hold on, is that Kushima?"

"That white outfit on Kushima is outright cheating."

"I get it now. Tonight isn't a banquet — it's the Federation student council demolishing our views on romance."

"Who's that, her partner? That's a prince, right."

"If she held out her hand right now, I'd hand over my family name." If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it. I turned to look at Maki. She'd obviously heard it too, but her expression didn't shift half a degree — just her gaze went a little colder. That kind of cold was effective; enough to remind ordinary people they still had manners, at least keeping them from charging over on the spot and doing something requiring a written self-criticism.

I said quietly: "Congratulations. You've been officially crowned this school's prince." She answered serenely: "If the Federation genuinely needed a prince, it would mean the system's already broken."

"Then what about me like this?"

"The system broke even earlier." I almost laughed. Fortunately the band pushed the tempo up a notch right then, making my shoulders' tiny tremor look like just a breath in time with the music. Once the banquet moved into formal flow, the Empire's side finally began to stir. I've always thought that so-called aristocratic education sometimes just meant wrapping base thoughts in pricier cloth.

People with true breeding didn't lack desire — they knew how to hide it inside etiquette until it looked like harmless social procedure. That was more troublesome than crude, direct lechers, because they stepped right on the line every time, and the line was always drawn exactly where you felt uncomfortable. The first one to come was a young noble around our age — impeccable uniform tailoring, impeccable manners.

He opened by stating his family name, then complimented the Federation side's dress design and bearing, his phrasing so neat it might as well have been rehearsed. The problem appeared when he gestured to invite a dance: his hand lingered half an inch low. Just half an inch. Not low enough to slap away on the spot, but enough to make something in my stomach go cold first.

I was about to step back when Maki stepped forward half a pace, slipping naturally between me and him, so smoothly it was as if she'd always been standing there.

"Sorry. I've borrowed her for this number." Polite, steady, her wording elegant as a graduate of some specialized course. Yet somehow, the word "borrowed" coming from her mouth made one thing perfectly clear: what isn't yours, don't go groping. The man froze for a beat, then recovered his polite smile fast.

"My apologies."

"No trouble. Thank you for understanding." Maki said. After he withdrew, I looked at her.

"That line of yours was exactly like a proper fiancé coming to collect his harassed fiancée."

"Say another word and I'll hand you back."

"Sorry, Your Highness the Prince."

"Shut up." When she said "shut up," the tips of her ears actually reddened just a little. Good. Serves her right. Unfortunately, the Empire's scum weren't limited to one — and every one of them was dressed like they belonged at a state ceremony. Over the next dozen or so minutes, I ran into all kinds of probes, high in form, cheap in content. One invaded my personal space through proximity, letting perfume trespass first.

One, under the guise of correcting dance steps, let his fingers rest on the back of my hand longer than necessary. And one was very clever — never touched me at all, just measured slowly with his eyes, from collarbone to waist, from waist to hem, sizing me up like evaluating a weapon's dimensions. I finally understood that the most annoying thing about civilized society was that so much of the disgust couldn't be interrupted with a single shot. Maki was there almost every time.

Sometimes she cut straight in and hijacked the conversation; sometimes a single turn of her body pulled me out of the uncomfortable angle; once, even more directly — when a young noble reached to help me down a step, she beat him to it by offering me her own glove, as if for courtesy, when she'd really just sealed off that restless hand of his. The moment my hand settled on it, the hand under the white glove was very steady. I suddenly didn't want to blow up the whole venue anymore.

"You're very practiced today." I said low.

"I'm doing damage control."

"Doesn't look like it. Looks like patrolling."

"Close enough." she answered serenely.

"I owe you one."

"Federation keeps the books. No interest."

"Then what do you collect." Maki glanced at me, her eyes plain, yet inexplicably making my back heat up.

"Just don't cause trouble tonight. That counts as paying me back." I gave a snort and didn't continue. Because if I did, Jess might actually whistle at us from across the room. Speaking of Jess — she was still eating. Halfway through the ball, she'd fought her way from appetizer to main course and was now advancing smoothly into round two of dessert, radiating the legitimacy of "no matter how suspicious the Empire is, at least the cream is innocent." D stood beside her like flank protection.

Harvey had slipped into another circle at some point, saying clearly insincere things with a face that looked particularly sincere. Roy and Lan were talking quietly by a pillar, and Akari flashed me a thumb from half a dance floor away, clearly treating all of this as some annual Federation student council legend. Good. International occasion, solemn opening, and the Federation side's collective mental state slid neatly toward entertainment programming.

The pair who actually dragged the air in the other direction were the two from the Imperial Military Academy's student council. They arrived as the music happened to slow, the room's chatter settling to a height where it was easy to be overheard. President and vice president, one behind the other, unhurried steps, uniforms so crisp they looked fresh off a painting.

Not the type to put on airs, nor deliberately wielding superior arrogance — precisely because they were so measured that you couldn't find a flaw to pick. The president nodded to Maki first, then turned to me.

"The two of you from the Federation student council — I've long heard of you. Honor to finally meet you tonight." A low, steady voice, upright phrasing, his gaze held within a range respectful enough, not overly intimate. In a normal setting, this kind of man would be praised for excellent breeding. Too bad I hadn't learned to dislike Empire men in a normal setting. Just an instant.

Some syllable, some enunciation, some overly deliberate way of producing sound landed in my ear, and the muscles of my back tightened a beat before my mind did. Not fear, not panic — more like my body recognized something disagreeable before I did. Ever since Flame Star, I'd known reason wasn't all-powerful. The brain could understand; the body didn't always comply.

Especially Empire men — especially that type in uniform, polite in speech, clean-cut nails, the more genteel they seemed, the easier something cold and queasy churned up in my stomach. I hated this reaction. It was like a scar left behind — invisible when it didn't hurt, always there the moment you touched it. But my face couldn't show any of it. I evened my breathing and held my lips at that measured, courteous arc.

"It's our honor. Thank you for hosting us tonight." The vice president picked up the thread then, his tone equally mild.

"If it's not too much to ask, might I have the pleasure of a dance? Later, the courtyard's night view is also worth a look." A very pretty invitation. Pretty enough that finding fault was nearly impossible. I knew he hadn't overstepped, and might even genuinely mean well. That was the problem. Saying no to a rude man was easy; saying no to a well-bred one took extra work — especially when we both represented our academies and nations. Maki stood half a step ahead and to my side, neither cutting in nor shielding me.

That was her judgment. Those dull characters just now she could shove aside with one foot; this kind, I had to handle myself. So I raised my eyes to him and steadied my voice.

"Thank you very much for the kind offer, but I'm afraid I've been assigned to the Federation side's reception backup tonight, and my free time is limited. If I wandered off for too long, the attaché and the ambassador would probably file me as a diplomatic incident. Please allow me to set this regret aside for a more suitable occasion." I wrapped the refusal pretty enough, and shut the door tight enough — honor first, then a reason, and finally a corner that wouldn't be ugly.

The virtue of this approach: everyone could still stand upright. The president looked at me a moment, as if confirming something, then gave a slight nod.

"What a pity. Still, your answer was splendid."

"You flatter me." The vice president simply smiled, without pressing.

"I look forward to a more relaxed opportunity next time."

"If such a chance comes, I'll treasure it." The line sounded like diplomatic boilerplate, and was, in fact, only diplomatic boilerplate. Treasuring a chance and actually using a chance were two different things. Only after they left did I slowly let that breath out. Maki asked, low: "You okay."

"No."

"It doesn't show on your face."

"Then my training's paying off."

"Your hands are cold." I froze for a beat, realizing my fingertips, resting at the edge of my glove, had indeed gone a bit chilly.

"When did you notice."

"The moment you get upset, your right hand tenses first."

"That obvious."

"To me, it is." She said it too calmly to be comfort — more like stating a fact she'd memorized long ago. And precisely because of that, it worked better than deliberate tenderness. Looking at the clean line of her profile, I suddenly thought the biggest problem with this white military dress wasn't that it was too handsome — it was that it let people misjudge the source of their safety. I looked away, lest Jess catch me and mint another campus legend.

"Your Highness the Prince, you're quite in demand tonight."

"Less than you."

"I'm being treated as a display piece."

"Same over here."

"Very different. You're someone people want to be led away by. I'm someone people want to poke to check the material." Maki was quiet for a second. Then she said: "Then I'll stand a little closer tonight." That sentence was light, unshowy, even lacking in extra emotion — yet it sounded more like something a human being says than every slick invitation to dance all night. I suddenly felt like laughing, and also didn't dare laugh too obviously. So I just answered, very softly.

"Fine. Then don't you drop it."

"That line's mine to say." In the banquet's later stretch, the music finally softened. All the prodding, the pleasantries, the exchanging of names and smiles had been a refined, exhausting rehearsal. Toward the end, everyone showed a little of their true fatigue. The Empire's students kept their handsome bearing; nobody on the Federation side really disgraced themselves; everything looked so smooth it could've been written straight into an official report as proof of successful exchange between the two schools.

But I knew: none of tonight's truly interesting things would go into any report. Which gazes lingered too long, which people stood too close, who hid hands inside courtesy, who put probes in their smiles, who stepped half a pace forward when they saw me uncomfortable — none of that would become formal record. And yet it was exactly these things that decided who went on my watchlist next, and who I'd tentatively file under "workable."

The strings made one last sweep through the hall, the lights still beautiful enough to make you weary of life. Jess was still eating. She was, in fact, still eating. Watching her pick up a third round of dessert from the distance, I somehow felt that part of the credit for human civilization surviving to this day should go to that unshakeable devotion to cream. Maki followed my gaze and was quiet for a moment too.

"How much has she eaten."

"Judging by appearances, enough to sustain a small-scale campaign."

"Then she's probably the happiest person tonight."

"No. She's the only one here actually living like someone attending a banquet." After I said it, I froze for half a beat myself. Because it was actually true. Everyone else was performing. The Empire was performing dignity, the Federation was performing composure, I was performing ease, and Maki was performing the reliability that could keep all of tonight's troubles outside her white glove. Only Jess was alive, honestly, facing the dessert counter. Genuinely enviable.

The music stopped, applause rose, then the sounds of chairs, tableware, and low conversation took the venue back over. The banquet hadn't caused a big disaster, and wasn't truly over, but the tightest, tautest time — the hours when my whole body was strung like a bowstring — had finally begun to loosen. I stood in the light, the long wig resting on my shoulders, the deep-blue hem settling demurely, like everything was normal.

Only I knew how many times tonight I'd wanted to drive my heel into the insteps of those young noblemen. And how many of those times, it was the person in the white military dress, with her matter-of-course calm, who'd held the venue steady for me. Maki turned her face slightly toward me and said, low: "Almost over."

"I know."

"Hang on a little longer." I looked at the dance floor ahead, still glaringly bright, and gave a soft "mm."

"Okay." Warning: The following image is pure fantasy. Viewer discretion is advised. 😂