CHAPTER 177: CHAPTER 177 | DRAMA

As Jinn slowly straightened his back, he felt the weight of countless curious stares brushing across his body, like hawks staring at a prey. The grand hall, glowing under chandeliers that spilled light over polished decorated floors, seemed to narrow around him as nobles whispered from behind ornate fans and lifted glasses.

"So he is the partner of Princess Akavi?"

"Despite being a slave... he does have a beautiful face..."

"What happened to his other eye? And his other arm!"

Their eyes didn’t hide anything—some showed curiosity, some faint hostility, and others barely masked their attempts to measure him like he was a new weapon freshly forged and placed on display.

Yet not one of them dared to step closer, because standing beside him was none other than Princess Akavi, the infamous iron fang of the empire, the cruel mistress of the wraiths, a woman whose reputation travelled faster than any rumor.

Just her presence alone kept the hole in line, forcing nobles to keep their thoughts inside their throats... as much as they could.

No one wanted to be the next example she made... an act she isn’t afraid to demonstrate, just like when she tried to execute the soldier Jinn tried to protect earlier.

Except for one person within that hallway.

A lone figure, wearing a gown of shimmering gold that reflected the palace lights like sunlight, approached them with slow and measured steps.

Her hair, a bright golden color—not as bright and almost ethereal like Ophelia’s, but bright enough for the strands of her hair subtly gleaming from the light.

The woman had a calm expression as she lowered her head politely toward Akavi.

"Good evening, dear sister," the woman said softly, her toon smooth, controlled... yet carrying a hint of warmth that felt rare in this place.

"Princess Ezrena!"

"She is as beautiful as always!"

The princess then turned her attention to Jinn with a practiced yet respectful smile.

"And a pleasure to meet you once again, master Jinn."

Her voice was gentle but strong, and Jinn instantly recognized her.

Without wasting even a heartbeast, he knelt, dropping to one knee in the way all soldiers like him were thought when facing royalty—back straight, head lowered, and one fist over the heart.

"I greet your highness, Princess Ezrena," Jinn said, his voice steady, respectful, and slightly lower than usual... aware that royalty demanded such tone, especially in these types of meetings.

Akavi mirrored the gesture yet in the way Royalty like her would usually respond. She bowed, though hers was sharped, more rigid, almost forced.

Her expression remained unreadable, lips pressed into a thin emotionless line as she replied in a cool tone,

"A good evening to you as well, older sister." The last two words carried a sharper edge, louder and more pointed, as if she really wanted Ezrena to taste the bitterness tucked beneath them.

It was clear she didn’t appreciate her sister showing up—maybe she hated being overshadowed, or maybe she simply didn’t like her sister’s presence in general.

Ezrena, however, didn’t seem bothered. It was as if these antics of Akavi weren’t new to her... and she had gotten used to them already.

She simply nodded once in acknowledgement before letting her eyes drift back once again to Jinn as she had noticed he was still kneeling.

Her smile subtly widened, before finally speaking.

"You may rise, master Jinn," Ezrena said with gentle authority.

"My father has... quite a lot to discuss with you. He has been speaking about you nonstop these past few days—how excited he is to finally meet the apprentice of Venedix after so long.

She sighed,

"I’ll admit, I sometimes grow tired of hearing the same things all the time

about you."

Her tone was respectful, yes, but beneath that respect was a trace of casualness, almost friendly, as if she wanted Jinn to feel at ease in a place that clearly wasn’t built for comfort.

It... was strange—none of the nobles had spoken to Jinn like this before.

Her voice held no sarcasm, no superiority, and no hidden poison.

Just sincerity.

Jinn then rose finally, before nodding toward the princess.

Jinn kept his posture calm and steady before finally responding, " I am sure me and the emperor will have enough time to discuss whatever he wants... once my master allows and confirms it herself," his voice firm yet respectful, clearly hinting that he would only speak to the emperor when Venedix herself knew of it and allowed it.

That alone already caused a few nobles to raise their brows, but before Jinn’s words could ever settle, a loud scoff cut through the air, making Jinn shift his gaze instantly.

"Hah! And who do you think you are to speak of the emperor like that, you damned slave?"

A proud, almost irritatingly theatrical voice came from a young man pushing himself through the small crowd of nobles. His steps were loud, his chin lifted high, and his stance overflowing with noble arrogance as if everything around him was below him.

The insignia across his chestplate—dark red kritonium shaped like a roaring flame—made it clear that he belonged to House Vulkan. A house that prides itself in swordsmanship.

The young man’s armor looked far too polished for someone his age, almost like he spent more time showing it off than fighting in it. He seemed around the same age as Jinn, maybe just a year older, yet his eyes looked at Jinn the same way nobles looked at dirty street water, filled with disgust for something beneath them.

The man stood before Jinn, towering slightly due to the raised heel of his boots, his expression filled with that all-too-common noble superiority.

Yet Jinn didn’t respond.

He didn’t even bother lifting an eyebrow or a twitch with his eye.

Why would he?

There was nothing of value to reply to, just someone barking for attention in a room filled with people ready to listen to drama.

Entertaining this fool would be pointless—

No, more like a waste of time.

The Vulkan noble, slightly annoyed that Jinn refused to take the bait, turned instead toward Princess Ezrena. He bowed with an exaggerated motion, his voice suddenly sweet, respectful, and dripping with fake politeness.

"My lady, it is but my humblest opinion that such a peasant should be sent outside with the rest of the soldiers. It is rightly where he belongs—and where he will always belong, even if he is an apprentice of Venedix."

Ezrena’s expression didn’t change much, but there was a quiet stiffness around her eyes that hinted she wasn’t exactly impressed. Still, the man continued louder, barking like a dog, projecting his voice so others could hear his self-important nonsense.

"Allowing a peasant inside these halls—much less a Rinarian—is an insult to our culture! A disrespect to the honor of the Royal Palace!"

That was all the invitation the nearby nobles needed.

"Hear, hear!"

"He speaks true!"

"He’s right! This is unacceptable!"

"A Rinarian inside the palace? Bold, disrespectful, and wrong!"

The voices rose like a tide, some nobles whispering with caution, others practically yelling since they had long desired something to complain about. The attention quickly shifted toward Jinn, like wolves watching a new prey enter their territory.

Meanwhile, at the far side of the hallway, three familiar figures were emerging from one of the connecting paths. Zhyn, Dreilla, and Gerahl walked casually with plates brimming full of food—mostly meats, cheeses, fruits, and anything else they managed to swipe from the buffet tables.

"What the hell did Jinn do this time?" Dreilla muttered, her plate wobbling dangerously as she increased her pace. She wasn’t angry—just tired of seeing the same noble nonsense unfold again.

Zhyn jogged beside her, taking a huge bite of a block of cheese without breaking his speed. "Clearly not something good," he said, crumbs sticking to the corner of his lips as he narrowed his eyes at the gathering crowd. He held his plate like a precious artifact, carefully keeping everything from falling.

Gerahl, on the other hand, looked completely unbothered. He held two giant steaks—one in each hand—chomping down like he was at an eating contest rather than a royal event.

"Haha! Drama!" he said with a wide grin, almost excited as he leaned forward to see what kind of mess Jinn had apparently walked into this time.

Zhyn rolled his eyes. Dreilla sighed. Gerahl just smiled wider.

The nobles kept talking, kept judging, kept acting like their voices carried weight heavier than Jinn’s deeds.

But even before Jinn could react, before he even considered opening his mouth—which he wouldn’t, the hall was already heating up with the tension that only nobility could create—messy, loud, and full of pride.

Like sharks smelling blood upon the water—they took turns mocking Jinn, making him the center of attention at the hallway.

And Jinn, as always, stood calmly in the center of it, refusing to waste energy on people who didn’t deserve even a fraction of his attention.