CHAPTER 57: MAKING MY WAY INTO NOBLE ETIQUETTE CLUB

After I finished picking my electives, it was time to choose my clubs.

And not just any clubs — I needed important ones.

The kind of clubs that would put me close to the main characters. The kind where the story actually happened, and not in some dusty corner no one cared about.

One of those clubs was the Noble Etiquette Club.

In the novel, this was where the first big incident of the entire academy arc took place. The spark that set off a chain of drama, rivalries, and relationship chaos.

In short, a goldmine for someone like me.

I needed to be there when it happened. No, scratch that — I needed to be in the middle of it.

There was just one problem.

I wasn’t a noble.

Not a god-forbid, pure-blood, silk-wearing, family-crest-having noble. I was just me.

Which meant that, technically, I had about as much right to be in the Noble Etiquette Club as a stray cat had to join a royal banquet.

But somehow... I had to get in.

That was when I spotted him — the perfect mark.

A boy in an immaculate blue academy uniform, auburn hair so perfectly brushed it could reflect sunlight, and an expression of unshaken innocence that practically screamed, I’ve never been lied to before in my life.

He was hovering by the bulletin board, squinting at the club postings like the entire list was written in some foreign language.

He looked naive and trusting. Exactly what I needed.

The beginnings of a plan unfurled in my head like ink on parchment.

If I could convince him that we were... connected somehow — say, a "guest mentor" helping him adjust to the academy — then he could waltz me through the Noble Etiquette Club’s gilded doors without anyone asking questions.

And the best part? If anyone did ask, I could just smile and say, "Oh, I’m here at his personal request." Nobles eat that kind of politeness alive.

Yes... this could work. All I had to do was make him believe it.

I adjusted my jacket, put on my best harmless smile, and strolled over like I’d just happened to be passing by.

"Lost?" I asked, tilting my head as if I genuinely cared about his well-being.

The boy turned toward me, and up close, he looked even younger, though maybe it was just the way his wide green eyes seemed to treat everything around him like a fairy tale come to life.

"Oh—! You’re the North Star!" His voice was bright, a mix of awe and disbelief, like I’d just stepped out of a history book and into his personal space.

Ah. Recognition right away. Of course. The whole academy knew me — the problem wasn’t them knowing who I was, it was them knowing exactly what I wasn’t: noble.

I gave him a modest shrug, as if being recognized was a daily inconvenience. "Guilty as charged. And you are...?"

"Alaric! Alaric Davenforth," he said with the crisp, rehearsed confidence of someone who’d been taught to introduce himself to dukes before he learned to tie his shoes. "House Davenforth of the Eastern Dukedom."

Eastern Dukedom is old money. The kind of noble lineage that probably had dusty oil paintings of glowering ancestors in every hallway. Perfect.

"Well, Alaric," I said, glancing toward the bulletin board like it was a mystery worth solving, "you look like you’re having a hard time picking."

He gave a sheepish laugh. "I... suppose I am. I’m meant to attend the Noble Etiquette Club, but I’ve never been to a meeting before. I’m not entirely sure how it all works here..."

My inner self grinned like a fox spotting an unlocked chicken coop.

"That’s a coincidence," I said, lowering my voice conspiratorially. "I happen to know a thing or two about the club. I could show you the ropes, help you... blend in."

Alaric’s eyes lit up instantly.

"You would?"

"Of course," I said warmly, as if doing this would be a selfless act on my part instead of the shameless infiltration it actually was. "Think of me as your... personal guide. A guest mentor, if you will."

And just like that, the first piece of the plan was in place.

The second part of the plan was simple: convince Alaric that not only was the Noble Etiquette Club the place to be, but that bringing me along was in his best interest.

Because people are far more willing to open doors for you if they believe they’re the ones benefiting.

I leaned back against the wall, crossing my arms like we were discussing something far more serious than a club sign-up.

"Alaric," I began, lowering my voice again. Conspiracies always sound better in a whisper. "You do realize what the Noble Etiquette Club really is, right?"

He tilted his head. "A place to learn... etiquette?"

I gave him a pitying look. "That’s the official story. In reality, it’s where the academy’s most influential heirs gather. The ones whose family names open palace gates. The kind of people who make or break reputations with a single handshake."

His brows furrowed slightly. He was listening. Good.

"And," I continued, as if reluctantly sharing the juiciest secret, "it’s also where noble heirs... connect. You know. With potential future wives. Husbands. Concubines."

Alaric’s ears twitched — not literally, but it might as well have been literal.

"Concubines?" he repeated, as if the word itself was an exotic delicacy.

"Oh yes," I said gravely. "Imagine this — you enter that club, make the right impression, and suddenly you’re on the radar of half a dozen influential families.

Within the year, you could be sipping tea with your betrothed under a gazebo, while other families send their... ah... more charming relatives to win your favor. Before long, you’d be married, well-connected, and living in a manor so large you’d need a map to find the dining room."

I let the image linger. His eyes were already glazing over in a daydream.

I decided to twist the knife.

"Picture it — a beautiful wife from a marquis family. A couple of elegant concubines gifted as part of the marriage alliance. Maybe a summer estate with its own lake. All because you joined the right club."

Alaric swallowed hard. "That... sounds... incredible."

I shrugged like it was no big deal. "Of course, the club can be... intimidating for first-timers. Lots of unspoken rules, subtle power plays. You wouldn’t want to accidentally insult someone’s lineage over the way you hold a teacup."

His shoulders tensed. "No... I wouldn’t."

"That’s where I come in," I said smoothly. "I’ll walk you through it, make sure you’re saying the right things to the right people. And in return..." I gave a modest wave of my hand.

"Well, you can just vouch for me as your personal guest. Perfectly normal for nobles to bring trusted acquaintances. No one will question it."

He hesitated for about half a second before nodding. "Alright. You’ll come with me to the meeting."

I smiled.

Second piece of the plan: complete.

We’d been standing there for maybe ten minutes, but judging by the way Alaric’s eyes kept flicking toward the west wing — where the Noble Etiquette Club supposedly held its gatherings — I knew the hook was set deep.

He was practically vibrating with the thought of gilded rooms, whispered courtship, and the possibility of a harem arranged by polite society.

"Right," I said, pushing off from the wall with an air of casual finality. "First meeting of the Noble Etiquette Club is tomorrow afternoon. Room 3A in the west wing. Be there early."

"Early?" He blinked.

"Yes. Nothing says ’low status’ like being the last one to arrive. We’ll meet by the main fountain, say... twenty minutes before. Gives me time to brief you before we step inside."

Alaric nodded firmly, the kind of determined nod people give when they’ve decided they’re ready to conquer the world. "I’ll be there. I’ll... uh... make sure I’m looking the part."

I gave him a once-over. "Lose the nervous fidgeting with your ring. It makes you look unsure. And remember — chin slightly up, like you’re constantly judging the quality of the air."

He actually practiced the pose right there, lifting his chin and inhaling like the courtyard air was vintage wine.

"Better," I said, smirking. "Do that and they’ll think you were born in a ballroom."

He grinned — the sort of boyish grin that told me he thought this was the start of some great adventure. "Thank you, North Star. I... I think this could be the start of something incredible."

"Oh, I’m counting on it," I said, offering my hand.

He took it, his grip firm but warm, sealing our little pact.

"Tomorrow, then," I said, stepping back.

"Tomorrow," he echoed, and turned away with the swagger of a man already imagining himself draped in silk and political influence.

I watched him go, my own smile curling like smoke.

By tomorrow afternoon, I’d be strolling through the Noble Etiquette Club’s doors without so much as lifting a finger for permission.