"Hey, you!" Killian hissed through clenched teeth.
"How could you keep on ignoring all my calls? We have an ergency!" The older brother’s voice was low but fierce, his steps heavy as he stord into the booth of House Kyros.
Only, the mont he actually looked inside, his anger wavered.
His younger brother had his face buried in his hands, shoulders hunched like the world had ended, while the rest of the cadets sat stiffly around him with equally uneasy expressions.
Killian froze mid-step. The ergency he had been so sure of... had apparently escalated into a catastrophe already.
"W-what happened?" he asked carefully, while actually wanting to turn back as the tension pressed in on him.
"Big Brother Killian," Luca finally murmured, his voice low and trembling, "it’s my good brother..."
Golden eyes peeked up, wide and anxious, as he whispered the words that made Killian’s blood run cold.
"Ollie has been taken..."
The Chief of Staff’s entire body stiffened. mories of one hostage situation after another flashed before his eyes, and suddenly, he was imagining the worst. This wasn’t just bad—it was actually worse than the ergency he had been imagining earlier.
"WHAT?!" he thundered, composure snapping like dry twigs. "Then what are we all doing sitting here? Shouldn’t we go after him?!"
"Brother," Kyle said sharply.
"Huh?"
"The little mop was taken... by Mom and Dad."
Killian stared. His mouth opened. Closed. Opened again. "WHAT?!"
Kyle sat ramrod straight now, his face grim as stone. "We were ambushed."
He quickly relayed what had happened. Killian could only gape, trying to decide if they could even do sothing about this.
anwhile, in a place that should have been close yet now felt galaxies away, a trembling blonde was trying to survive.
Oliver Mylor was sure that sowhere just beyond him, Master of Ceremonies Mitchel was introducing the first auction item.
His heightened senses picked up the subtle cues—shuffling movents, people leaning forward, whispered exchanges. The crowd was already excited. Whatever the opening piece was, it had to be good. His father had probably selected sothing to complent Luca’s creations.
But Ollie couldn’t process any of it.
He couldn’t hear the fanfare. He couldn’t hear the bids.
All he could hear was his heart hamring against his ribs and the unrelenting inner shrieking of his mind:
"Goose! It’s the minister! The son of the Drunken Goose!!!"
’Guard,’ his rational voice tried weakly. ’It’s guard, not goose.’
If Kyle were here, he’d already have corrected him with that flat, dry tone. But his Kyle wasn’t here.
Instead, Ollie was here.
Here—sitting in between Minister Kordell Nox and Marquise Evelyn Nox.
In the booth of House Nox.
To his right sat the son of the Goose—no, the Minister. Kyle’s father. His short dark-blue hair glead under the lights, sharper and more severe than either of his sons. His piercing amber eyes burned with an intensity that could peel skin, set deep beneath angular features carved with precision: high cheekbones, a strong jaw, with his brows furrowed in eternal judgnt.
And just monts ago, those eyes had shifted briefly from the auction to him. Him—the pitiful trembling mop.
Ollie nearly expired on the spot.
But as terrifying as the Minister was, Ollie had been sowhat used to Kyle’s and Killian’s presence. So what made his insides turn to water was actually the presence on his left.
Marquise Evelyn Nox.
Not much was known of her. Her striking beauty and reputation had always been wrapped in mystery. But seeing her this close—her ash-blonde hair in a sharp bob, her presence effortless and magnetic—Ollie realized she was every bit as intimidating as the rumors claid.
Unlike the cold, looming aura of the n in her family, hers was sothing different. Vibrant. Sharp. A storm wrapped in elegance.
But to Ollie, sitting squished between them, she might as well have been Death itself.
The auction roared on outside. He could feel it—gasping voices, people standing in excitent, the weight of the room shifting.
But none of that reached him anymore.
Because just seconds ago, Marquise Evelyn had calmly reached over... and turned off the booth’s audio.
Ollie’s vision darkened. He almost fainted right there.
For a ti, the silence in the booth pressed down like a weight. Ollie’s palms were clammy against his knees, and he dared not move. He could feel the Minister’s eyes, but what was more obvious was how the Marquise’s elegant profile turned slowly toward him.
"...Young Lord Mylor," she said at last, her tone smooth and formal.
Ollie went rigid. His head snapped up so fast it was a wonder his neck didn’t crack. He blinked, then pointed hesitantly to himself.
"M-?"
The Marquise nodded once, her polite smile refined and practiced. "Yes. Can you tell us a little about yourself?"
The question landed like a teor.
Introduce... himself?
Ollie’s throat locked. His brain flatlined. His entire existence beca the single, terrifying command to introduce himself properly.
He could feel his soul clawing at the walls of his body. His heartbeat thundered. If he got this wrong, if he said the wrong thing in front of Kyle’s parents, surely the floor would open up and swallow him whole.
The Nox couple, anwhile, exchanged a subtle glance. They had only been asking for the most basic of introductions—his na, so that they could formally exchange greetings. Yet the way the blonde cadet trembled, they feared pressing further might break him into dust.
The silence stretched. The air thickened.
And then, all of a sudden, Ollie took a deep, ragged breath. His golden eyes widened with dood resolve.
What ca next was a torrent.
"I’m Oliver Astrea Mylor, third child out of five of Marquis Osmond Mylor and Marquise Julienne Astrea Mylor. I also have a sworn brother nad Luca Kyros. I am fifty-nine kilograms before breakfast and sixty kilograms after breakfast. My height is one hundred seventy-two centiters without my hair, and with my hair, it’s one hundred seventy-seven point eight centiters. My favorite colors are gold and blue. My hobby is eating and sleeping, my favorite food is everything, and my special skill is making money and eating well. I have also been told that I can sleep through natural disasters and survive."
It all ca out in one breath.
The words crashed and tumbled over each other, spilling out like a last will and testant. By the ti he stopped, Ollie was gasping for air, his face flushed pink from the effort.
"..."
The Minister blinked slowly.
The Marquise’s smile froze.
For the first ti in many years, both Kordell and Evelyn Nox were caught off guard—by a trembling blonde who had just introduced himself with enough detail to fill a census report and a personal diary combined.
Ollie, anwhile, sat stiff and pale, certain this was the end.
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