Silken rays of morning sunlight spilled through the grand arched windows of the Luxveil mansion, cascading over the polished marble floors in a golden hue that once symbolized prosperity, wealth, and the splendor of an illustrious lineage.
Now, however, that same light only sought to mock the tense shadows that haunted the cold corridors, lingering like ghosts from a forgotten era of grandeur, whispering tales of glory that had long since faded into obscurity.
In one part of the continent, within a secluded estate draped in the divine serenity of aristocratic warmth, Leo Aetherwind leisurely reclined in a luxurious chair exquisitely crafted from spirit oak and the supple leather of celestial beasts.
His silver hair shimmered under the morning sun like moonlight frozen in mid-dance, each glint of light a reminder of the power he now possessed.
A faint smirk graced his lips as his maid, a subtle specter of grace, gently massaged his shoulders with delicate hands, her touch as light as the caress of a summer breeze yet as practiced and intentional as an artisan wielding an exquisite brush.
The room he occupied transcended the mere definition of a chamber; it was more akin to a sanctuary or a temple, infused with the rich aromas of rare incense that lulled the spirit into a gentle tranquility and calmed even the most fervent of souls.
Crystal vases brimmed with vibrant celestial roses, their petals glowing faintly with stored mana, emanating an enchanting aura like jewels in a crown, and in the corner, an enchanted harp strummed a soft lullaby, triggered by the vibrations of positive energy that resonated throughout the carefully arranged space.
Leo's eyes were half-lidded, fading into the gentle haze of relaxation as his consciousness danced between satisfaction and amusement.
Power was no longer a distant dream—it was his realm, his undeniable truth, carved into the very fabric of existence.
Meanwhile, in the far more chaotic quarters of the once-respected Luxveil Family, the air crackled not with mana, but with dread and uncertainty, a weight on the chest that threatened to suffocate.
Within the lavishly decorated living hall, tension hung thick and oppressive—like the stench of smoke over a battlefield—casting dark shadows over the well-arranged furniture and polished fixtures.
The high ceiling, adorned with ancestral murals depicting battles of yore and chandeliers that had once glimmered with pride, now felt too heavy, too watchful—as if the ancestors themselves had returned to judge the living, their disapproving gazes a reminder of the great legacy now hanging by a thread.
Selena Luxveil stirred restlessly in her grand queen-sized canopy bed, silken sheets tangled around her body like invasive vines, constricting her every movement and trapping her within the cocoon of her anxious thoughts.
Her face, usually serene and radiating unshakeable confidence, was now furrowed in restless discomfort, the brows twitching as if afflicted by unwelcome omens.
She turned from one side to another, futilely struggling against her own anxious mind, until, after a prolonged moment, she finally tossed the covers aside in a fit of determination.
"Whatever. I'll deal with him later," she muttered under her breath, brushing her crimson hair behind one ear as if she could dismiss her lingering responsibilities with a flick of her hand.
Yet, behind her confident exterior lurked the gnawing anxiety of unknown consequences—an unsettling feeling that swirled in her gut like a restless spirit.
Descending the opulent staircase with the inherent grace of someone born into nobility, Selena expected the usual: polite greetings, quiet elegance, and servants moving about with the precision of gears in a finely-tuned clock.
But today was different, and the air was charged with an unnatural energy.
The mansion felt as though it had been struck by lightning—its bones intact yet every inhabitant shaken to the core, rattled by the tremors of a brewing catastrophe.
Halting midway down the stairs, her emerald eyes widened in disbelief at the scene unfolding below her.
The grand hall resembled a war zone, a chaotic whirl of fraying emotions swirling through the air.
Several family members paced furiously, phones glued to their ears, their voices blending into a cacophony of dread.
Heated exchanges echoed from multiple directions—laced with panic, desperation, and escalating anger.
Some were shouting, others whispered harshly, but the core message remained the same: disaster was looming.
Her father—Grand Elder Luxveil—was ensconced at the heart of it all, like a broken pillar in a dilapidated temple.
His eyes, once fierce and commanding, were now hollowed and sunken, betraying the toll that sleeplessness and worry had taken on him.
Dark circles bruised the delicate skin beneath his eyes, and his noble face was drained of color, resembling brittle parchment left too long under the scorching sun.
The lines of age and stress carved deeply into his features, giving him the look of a man ten years older than he had been just yesterday; a living testament to the crushing weight of expectations.
"Father…?" Selena hesitated, her voice unusually meek, as if the very sound might expose her vulnerability.
At the sound of her voice, several heads turned sharply in unison, the room momentarily falling into a tense silence—sharp, jagged, and expectant.
Then it shattered into a thousand pieces.
"You! Because of you, we're ruined!" one uncle barked, his voice slicing through the air like a vicious whip.
"Our contracts are being terminated one by one!" another shouted, each word laden with the bitterness of betrayal.
"Why did such a disgraceful child have to be born into our family?" a third sneered, disdain dripping from their words like poison.
"You pampered brat, what were you thinking offending the Young Master?!"
The words rained down upon Selena like poisoned arrows, each insult striking her pride with surgical precision, piercing her defenses.
Her confidence, which once soared like a phoenix emerging from the flames of adversity, now plummeted like cinders scattered by an unforgiving wind.
Her lips quivered as she battled against the rising tide of emotions threatening to suffocate her.
The once-familiar surroundings of her home, laden with her childhood laughter and cherished memories, had become alien, charged with bitterness and hostility.
Confusion surged within her.
For the entirety of her life, she had been the crown jewel of the Luxveil legacy, the beloved daughter wrapped in reverence and admiration.
Yet now, in this crucible of discontent, she felt like a mere shadow flitting about in a realm that no longer acknowledged her.
Stumbling forward, propelled by instinct and desperation, she rushed to her father's side, the figure she had always sought for solace, searching for the same embrace that had shielded her from consequences far and wide.
"Father…" she implored, her voice tremulous and pleading.
"Please tell them to stop… please…"
But the man she had always trusted to shield her, to defend her against the slings and arrows of life, turned away from her imploring gaze.
Instead of comfort, all she encountered was a tightening brow and clenched jaw.
An unfathomable rage shimmered behind the weariness in his eyes—an inferno restrained, simmering beneath an unforgiving surface.
He turned to her slowly, as though a volcano teetered on the brink of eruption, a deluge of emotion ready to rain down upon her.
"Go upstairs," he commanded, his tone as heavy and dry as the barren desert, devoid of warmth.
"Get ready.
Today, we're going to visit Young Master Leo."
Selena blinked rapidly, the shock coursing through her like an electric current.
"W-What?"
"You heard me."
His tone was final, impenetrable—a steel door slamming shut in her face.
Taking a hesitant step back, she found her voice faltering.
"No.
I won't.
I won't bow my head to him."
The room plunged into silence once more, the air thickening with tension as every eye fixated on her, their stares sharper than daggers eviscerating her defiance.
"We don't need his help!" she declared, her pride clinging to her desperately like the last autumn leaf refusing to let go of the branch, even as winter loomed.
In response, the disdain in the room intensified, palpable and suffocating like a heavy fog.
One elder scoffed loudly, shaking his head with incredulity.
"She's lost her mind completely."
"Is this the arrogance of youth?" came the jeers, dripped with mockery.
"You think we can survive without his support?" a third voice chimed in, derision weaving through the words like poison in a chalice.
The rumble of her father's voice broke through the fray, a thunderous growl echoing low beneath a looming storm cloud.
"Selena."
All at once, she froze, her resolve conspiring against her as she faced the authority embodied in those two syllables.
"Because of your foolishness, Young Master Leo has unofficially declared that he will no longer back the Luxveil Family."
"What?!" she managed to gasp, stunned and bewildered, her mind racing to grasp the implications of his confession.
"Already several aristocratic families have terminated their contracts with us.
Others are in the process of abandoning us.
Dozens of our key projects are stalled—pending, frozen, or completely abandoned.
Some collaborators are even threatening litigation."
His voice rose like a crescendo, the gravity of every uttered word a resounding slap across her dignity, each syllable a bitter anchor pulling her deeper into despair.
"In just three months, our entire business empire could collapse.
Liquidated.
Nothing left but dust and shame."
Selena's lips parted in a desperate gasp, but no sound escaped her throat.
The world spun around her like a wild storm, thoughts racing like a blizzard, but no coherent sentences formed amidst the chaos.
Her world, once solid as the stones of her lineage, now crumbled into an abyss—an endless chasm devoid of hope, lacking even the possibility of escape.
Her father's eyes narrowed, slashing through her confusion like a blade through silk.
"Do you think that engagement was meaningless?
Do you believe we chose Leo out of favoritism or convenience?"
He stepped closer, invading her personal space, lowering his voice until it rolled off his tongue like a lethal whisper, dangerous and dire.
"Leo Aetherwind is the direct heir of both the Aetherwind and Skydawn Families.
The sole heir.
Do you understand what that means?"
She nodded slowly, dread pooling in her stomach.
"No, you don't," he hissed, irritation bubbling forth like molten lava eager to spill over.
"Those two families control almost thirty percent of the continent's elite trade and mana resources.
They command legions of elite cultivators, scholars, politicians, and guildmasters.
And Leo… he's more than just a future powerhouse.
He is destined to sit atop the world."