The ballroom had quieted slightly. The orchestra resumed with forced cheer. Guests began to drift back toward the dance floor, murmuring nervously but determined to pretend the interruption was simply a dramatic flourish.

  We stepped out onto the balcony to escape the noise, the night air brisk against my skin. Prel's three moons hung overhead—silver, gold, and pale blue—casting layered shadows across the terrace. Stars nestled between them, low and sharp, while below, distant lights blinked across the city like scattered magic.

  I stared at it all, my thoughts drifting far from the ballroom. It felt like waking up from a long sleep—like some part of me had been under a spell, lulled into forgetting things better left buried. A name. A face. A time when I wasn’t just Nojin.

  "You know," I said, my voice quieter than I expected, "Yuuhi said trying to calculate the time for this thing with Prel’s three moons nearly broke her brain. Said they don’t even follow the same arc across the sky half the time."

  Kira didn’t laugh. Her gaze stayed fixed on the ballroom doors, more serious than usual.

  She spoke softly. "I work for The Concord of Ruhn, you know. Maybe we could—"

  "I know who you work for," I cut in. "And I told you. I'm not getting involved. Bad things happen when I get involved."

  She turned to face me fully, brow furrowed. "Then who are you really, Nojin?"

  I flinched.

  Memories rose too fast. Pain. War. A monster. Regret.

  I exhaled slowly and looked away. "I'm Mayor Nojin of Graybarrow. That’s it."

  Kira didn’t press, but she didn’t nod either.

  The quiet didn’t last.

  The doors creaked open again behind us.

  A pair of nobles, decked in enough lace and sparkle to blind anyone within seeing distance, stepped forward with practiced courtly grace.

  “Ah, yes! You there—the tall one with the grim expression,” one said cheerily. “We simply must thank you for saving us all. Such panache. Such flair. You must come back in and enjoy the festivities.”

  The other nodded rapidly. “Also, if you wouldn’t mind standing nearby for the next hour or so. Purely for ambiance and not at all because we’re terrified.”

  I stared at them.

  Kira nudged me with her elbow. “Told you you’d be popular.”

  I groaned. “I should’ve stayed in my cabin.”

  If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

  But I followed them back inside anyway.

  —

  The ballroom hadn’t fully recovered, but the nobles were doing their best to pretend it had. Some danced with renewed vigor, as though a brush with death simply added flair to their waltz. Others hovered near the exits, drinks in hand, eyes darting to the shadows.

  I stood near the refreshment table, arms crossed, sipping something called fermented skyfruit syrup. It was blissfully strong. Enough to numb my jaw.

  "You," a voice said to my left.

  I turned. A broad-shouldered figure in military regalia offered a crisp bow. Dozens of medals chimed softly along the front of his uniform, polished so bright they could guide ships home on a foggy night.

  "General Marcin of Prel's High Guard," he introduced. "Your actions tonight prevented what could have been a massacre."

  "Just reacted," I said.

  Marcin chuckled. "Perhaps. But there's not a soul here who didn’t feel safer with you in front of them."

  I hated that. Not the gratitude, but the implication. The reminder that even in another world, at another time, in another life, I was still expected to be a shield. A sword. A deterrent.

  "Thank you," I said instead.

  He gave a respectful nod and moved on.

  Kira appeared beside me, plucking a tiny dessert shaped like a miniature griffin from a nearby tray. "So how does it feel to be Prel's newest party sensation?"

  "This drink might be a potion."

  I set the glass down with a quiet tap, eyeing the glittering griffin-shaped dessert in Kira’s hand. "That thing better not roar."

  She snorted. "Only if you poke it in the wrong spot."

  I sighed and leaned back against the table, watching as a pair of nobles took turns bowing with increasing dramatics, their elaborate cuffs nearly tangling as they shuffled and stepped over each other's movements. It was absurd. Almost normal. And somehow, that made it stranger than the fight that had come before. The music swelled again, strings trilling with exaggerated elegance.

  "So," Kira said after a beat, her tone lighter but careful, "you gonna dance, or just glower dramatically from the sidelines all night?"

  I gave her a long, flat look. "I’m not sure you remember who I am. I don’t do dancing. I do glowering. It’s in the name. Mayor Nojin. Local curmudgeon. King of dramatic lurking."

  Kira popped the dessert into her mouth and grinned. "Mmmh, that's good. Well, if you're gonna glower, at least do it near the dessert table. You’re starting to attract more fans."

  I turned slightly—sure enough, two younger nobles were whispering and occasionally sneaking glances in my direction.

  I stared into my drink, swirling the syrupy liquid like it might reveal some secret worth knowing. Kira nudged my elbow.

  "You're doing it again."

  "Doing what?"

  "Brooding so hard I can hear the walls getting jealous."

  I didn't answer.

  She leaned in a little, voice quieter, playful but with something underneath. "Come on. Just a little smile. Maybe a toast. You’ve survived worse nights, haven’t you?"

  I gave her a sideways glance. "Are you drunk?"

  She raised an eyebrow, looked down at the empty glass in her hand, and let out a quiet exhale through her nose. Her smile was faint, uneven—not her usual smirk, tired around the edges. "Define drunk," she said, the words casual, but her tone a little too steady, like she was bracing for the question.

  I sighed. "That’s a yes."

  She gave a small shrug and looked away, voice soft but wry. "I’m tipsy at best. You’re just grumpy because they haven’t carved your face into a cake yet."

  "Not a cake person."

  "Clearly not a party person, either."

  "I'm not a 'saving the ballroom from assassination attempts' person, but look how the night’s going."

  She laughed, then lifted a new drink that somehow appeared in her hand. "To reluctant heroes and desserts shaped like animals."

  I tapped my glass against hers with a soft, reluctant nod. "To whatever this is."

  We drank. The taste was sharp, unfamiliar, and just slightly too sweet. But for the second time tonight, I didn't hate being here. Not entirely.

  I'm Mayor Nojin. Nothing more. Nothing less.

  Though tonight, even I wasn’t so sure.