Across the table, Alaric poured wine into a goblet, eyes briefly flicking toward Selene.
Her jaw was tight, lips pressed into a polite smile that didn't reach her eyes.
Then—just for a second—her gaze snapped to him. Sharp. Intent. A silent cue.
The signal.
Alaric gave the faintest nod and stepped slightly closer to Caleb's seat, one hand tightening around the neck of the wine decanter.
His expression was calm.
He was ready.
But then—
[Ding!]
[Bonus Quest Unlocked: Entangle the Duskwood Flower]
Objective: Initiate a meaningful contact with Livia Duskwood.
Reward: +50 Domination Points | +5 CHA | +10 EXP | ??
Failure: -25 Domination Points.
Time Limit: 48 hours.
What the...
Alaric blinked at the sudden system message.
Another one already?
Then, as if sensing something.
He turned his head slightly.
And his gaze landed on Livia.
She was looking at him again.
Their eyes met—just a moment, but it was enough.
Her breath caught. And she looked away quickly, lifting her goblet.
She sipped—too much, too fast.
Cough!
And let out a choked gasp, clutching at her throat—she began coughing hard, wine caught in her windpipe.
Without waiting for a cue, Alaric stepped forward with practiced urgency—head slightly bowed, hands steady—intending to offer water or simply assist.
But just as he reached her side, the edge of his boot caught the leg of the tablecloth, barely a shift—but it was enough.
His hand jerked, and the half-filled decanter of wine tipped forward.
A splash of deep crimson struck across Livia's lap.
Livia gasped, startled—but she didn't scream or lash out.
Her hands froze midair, then gently lowered the edge of the soaked tablecloth.
A mortified flush spread across her cheeks as the cold seeped in.
Alaric immediately stepped back, eyes wide—not with fear, but with a perfectly practiced look of startled regret.
"I-I deeply apologize, my lady," he said, bowing low. "It was entirely my fault—I lost my step while trying to assist you."
The room, moments ago filled with the quiet hum of conversation, went utterly still.
Cree!
Varell Duskwood's chair scraped harshly against the floor as he stood.
"What is the meaning of this?" he thundered, face red with rage. "Who is this clumsy fool?"
Caleb stood beside him, his fist already tightening. "How had he just drenched my sister like that?"
Selene, then dipped her head as she spoke.
"Apologies, he's one of our newer attendants, that my husband bought a few weeks ago."
But Varell ignored her accusation and turned his glare toward her.
"Then you clearly have no sense for discipline. Is this how your house welcomes its guests?"
Then Selene quickly rose from her chair.
"Lena, escort Livia to her chambers. Have her given a fresh gown."
"I—" Livia finally spoke, voice low, waving her hands, "I'm alright. It was just…"
Still, she stood up quietly.
Head Maid quickly stepped forward to guide her out.
She glanced back, just once. Not angry. Just… curious.
Caleb gave Alaric a last searing glare before sitting down, muttering under his breath.
Servants moved quickly to clean the spilled wine, but the damage had been done.
Alaric returned to his place without another word.
[Bonus Quest Progress: 35% – First impression made.]
Then—
Mirenna Duskwood's voice cut in, icy and unflinching.
"It is the lady of the house's duty to ensure proper discipline among the help. Clearly, that duty has been... neglected."
Her gaze pinned Selene with disdain. Varell Duskwood remained standing.
Before Selene could respond, Ferick suddenly slammed his goblet onto the table.
"Who told you to dress that filthy mud digging mutt up and parade him around like a proper servant?!"
The room froze.
Varell Duskwood's brows creased. Caleb blinked.
Though slaves serving guests wasn't taboo, there were specific slaves assigned for such duties.
But using labor slaves to serve guests was an entirely different matter. And the Duskwoods—they utterly despised slaves.
And now, one had served them and even spilled wine on their daughter, staining her gown.
"Slave?"
"You had a slave serve my family at the dinner table?" Baron Varell growled. "And you didn't think to mention it?"
"How utterly vulgar," Mirenna snapped. "Do you think so little of our house, Lady Selene? You insult our son with this marriage. What does that say about how you treat our daughter-in-law to be?"
Selene's lips parted, but before she could speak—
Alaric stepped forward and bowed low.
"My sincerest apologies, my lady. It was my fault entirely. I moved clumsily and ruined the evening. Please, do not fault your hosts for my failure."
For a heartbeat, the tension hovered—then hardened.
"Don't speak," the baroness hissed. "You have no place to open your mouth here."
Then she turned, lifting her chin toward Selene.
"This is a disgrace. If this is the standard of your household, then I see no reason for our children to be joined."
Baron Varell nodded, voice final.
"The engagement is annulled."
Caleb didn't protest—he looked too stunned.
Selene, for a long moment, stood still. Then, slowly, she sat down again, as if nothing had happened.
A corner of her lip twisted into sly smirk.
Ferick blinked slowly, swaying just slightly on his feet.
Then, stumbling forward, he raised a hand.
"Now, hold on," he slurred, trying to smile but only managing a twitch.
"Let's not go throwin' away years over some dumb slave."
Varell glared at him, unmoved.
"He spilled wine on our daughter," Mirenna said coldly. "And you let a mere slave serve at the table. That's how little this house values ours."
"It wasn't me," Ferick muttered. "She brought him in," he pointed at Selene with a lazy wag of his hand.
Selene didn't respond. She sat still.
Ferick leaned in closer to the Duskwoods, dropping his voice.
"Look. Forget the slave. I'll make it up to you. You come back next month—just one—proper dinner. Fancy as hell. And Selene—" he smirked, glancing back at his wife, "—Selene'll personally serve your table. Every course."
Even Baron Varell blinked at that.
"You want your wife to serve us?" Mirenna asked, her voice flat.
Ferick's grin widened. "Why not? Might be the only thing she's good at."
Selene's smirk faltered, jaw clenched. Her fingers curled around the edge of the table, white-knuckled. But she didn't speak.
Mirenna looked disgusted.
Varell's eyes narrowed.
"You have one chance."
Ferick clapped once, loud and smug. "Done."
He turned away like the matter was settled, already reaching for a goblet of wine.
The Duskwoods stood up and excused themselves, servants guiding them to their chambers.
Alaric watched it all unfold with an amused expression. Then he turned his gaze to Selene, whose face had gone pale, as if she'd seen a ghost.
Oof, looks like your plan backfired at you, woman.