The air was thick with perfume and the faint tang of spiced wine, each conversation blending into a soft, constant hum. Laughter flared in pockets, followed by the clink of glasses. Somewhere in the corner, a musician strummed a gentle tune, his notes almost lost in the sea of voices

It was supposed to be a child's birthday party, but after they gave their gifts, all the attention on the third prince disappeared. Now they were more focused on talking to each other, and most of their topics revolved around the young heir of the north, Lucen Thornehart.

Of course, the Third Prince did not mind. Elion did not like to be the center of attention. Every time he gets some attention, his other siblings look at him weirdly.

Except for his second sister and his mother, his other family members do not feel like they were his family.

To him, they were frightening strangers. His father, the King, seemed to test him at every turn, and from the shadow in the King's eyes, Elion suspected he had failed nearly all of them.

Each time his father's gaze landed on him, it was as if his father were waiting for him to do something, but he always failed to do so.

It was not disappointment he could see in his father's gaze, but a sort of expectation that he could do something more to be someone better, but Elion could never do so.

His eldest brother had once looked at him as if he were a rival, but that gaze had curdled into open disgust.

His second brother spoke to him on occasion, his words polite but cool, like a scholar studying a curious specimen.

His eldest sister never spoke to him at all; it was as if he did not exist. His eldest sister could pass by him in the corridor without so much as a blink, the scent of her perfume the only proof she had been there at all.

Only his second sister treated him differently, always ready with a smile, a game, or a shield from all who wished to harm him.

The Queen Mother was also warm. She always tells him that the only thing he needs to do is his best and that she will always love him.

He had once heard the servants talking behind his back, saying that he was not like his siblings, that he was untalented.

Even though he was just seven, he understood what they meant. His eldest brother had a soldier's skill and was destined to be a great general.

His second brother could predict the outcome of an event from a handful of clues. His eldest sister could bend people to her will and leave them grateful for it.

Even his beloved second sister already had a mana core and her first circle, her confidence shining as she navigated conversations even most adults found difficult. And Elion... Was none of those things.

The untalented one of the royals. He once heard that Lucen was also treated similarly to him. The sickly, untalented, disappointing heir of the North.

'When I was feeling down, my second sister would always say At least, you aren't like the useless heir of the Iron Duke...'

But now, the truth was Lucen was neither sickly nor untalented. He stood in stories as a dragon slayer, an inventor, a man who left the crowd cheering. If Lucen had once been like him, then the gap between 'once' and 'now' was a mountain Elion could barely see the top of.

Elion could hear the people talking about Lucen and his many achievements. From Dragon Slaying to inventing a new game. It was like there was nothing Lucen could not do.

'Was he ever as useless as me?'

Elion wondered as he stared at the untouched drink in his hand. He watched his siblings talking to one noble after another, while he continued to sit in his spot, no one approaching him.

Despite this being his birthday, where he was supposed to be the center of attention, truly, no one seemed to see him. On the other hand, Lucen, who wasn't even in the ballroom, had the attention of many.

The stories they told, the rumors about Lucen's feats, were like something out of legend. He grew interested in the stories as he listened to the nobles, knights, and mages. Each had a different way of telling Lucen's story.

His steps were small, deliberate, trying not to draw notice. He pretended to look around the room, but his ears stayed fixed on their words. By the time he realized it, he was standing almost within their circle.

It was one with a baron, a knight, and a mage. They, who had been talking, noticed that the Third Prince was already beside them.

"Greetings, Prince Elion." Each one of them greeted at the same time. "Can we help you?" The knight was the one who asked.

Elion hesitated at first, as the nobles waited to hear what he had to say. It took a little while, but he was able to build up his courage to respond to them.

"Can you please tell me more stories about Lucen Thornehart?"

The nobles looked at each other, not knowing what to do. "Um, what kind of story about Lucen Thornehart do you want to hear?"

"I... I haven't heard any stories before, and I have only heard he was a sickly person..." Elion had a bit of difficulty speaking to them, but he wanted to know more about Lucen, so he spoke up with all the bravery he could muster.

"Can you tell me everything you heard about him. Like, what do you know about his dragon slaying?"

"Have you not heard the bards sing of those?" The baron who liked to drink asked.

"... I haven't, can you tell me about it?"

"I would like to sing it, but, unfortunately, Prince Elion, I don't have the voice for it." The baron answered, a little embarrassed.

"It doesn't matter if you just tell it normally, I just want to hear it."

The baron nodded his head and recounted the tale he remembered hearing from a bard. Even though he said he would say it normally, every now and then he would sing a few of the words.

The baron spread his arms wide, describing the wingspan of the beast, his voice dipping low for the roar and rising again for the moment Lucen used the spell that greatly injured the dragon.

Elion pictured it all, ice cracking underfoot, the shadow of wings blotting out the sun, the air so hot his skin prickled.

Once that started, the knight and the mage also told stories about what they heard of Lucen. The knight told the story of how Lucen won in the underground arena, and since he was there that day, he was able to tell it with a lot of details.

The knight's tone carried the rhythm of a crowd's cheer, his hands sketching the movements in the air. He was moving his body as if he were Lucen himself.

At this moment, it was as if Elion were there in the audience seats of the arena, watching Lucen dodge each attack and countering fist with fists.

He felt the crowd's roar rumble in his bones, the vibration making his chest ache, not from fear, but from wanting, desperately, to stand in that kind of light, even for a second.

The mage told of the story he heard about how Lucen created the board game called Territory War.

The more Elion listened, the more fascinated he became. It felt like Lucen woke up one morning and decided not to be a useless person anymore.

The more he heard, the more disappointed in himself he became. His fingers tightened on the cup of juice.

He didn't know if he could do the same things as Lucen, as he had neither a mana core nor Aura.

Admiration twisted with something heavier in his chest, a mix of longing and shame. His fingers tightened on the cup until his knuckles turned white. He wanted to be inspired, but all he could think of were the gaps between Lucen's abilities and his own.

A thought kept circling in his mind like a bird of prey. 'If Lucen could change, why haven't I?'

As he was thinking that, the Thorneharts came back. The room seemed to tilt subtly toward the doorway, conversations pausing mid-sentence. Every head turned as the Thorneharts entered, their presence pulling the attention of the hall like the tide.

Vardon and Lucen's silver hair caught the light of the chandeliers, their postures steady and confident. It was the kind of presence that filled space without needing to demand it.

Even though it was obvious that they wanted to speak to them, none dared approach. It was only the other Duke families who came close and started talking to Duke Vardon.

"Hey, is he coming over here?" The baron asked as he noticed that Lucen was walking towards them.

When he arrived in front of the group, Lucen did a knight's salute and spoke. "Greetings, Your Highness, the Third Prince. If it isn't too much, I wish to talk to you."

The second Lucen said those words, in Elion's point of view, the entire world became silent. The words seemed to slice through the din of the party, clear and deliberate. For a moment, Elion thought he had misheard. His heart skipped, and he became aware of how many eyes had turned their way.