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Now reading: Chapter 89 - The Night of Many Threads (1) from The Useless Extra Knows It All....But Does He?, a Fantasy novel by WishToTransmigrate.

The palace gates lood tall and majestic, bathed in a warm golden glow as carriages rolled up one after another. The cobbled entrance, the towering marble pillars, and the elegant archways all shimred with enchantnt and nobility. This was the kind of world Luca had only seen in paintings or dread about in fragnts.

He stood a few steps away from the entrance, edges of his black suit fluttering lightly in the evening breeze, eyes wide as they drank in every opulent detail. It wasn’t just a building—it was a world far from anything he’d ever known. A world of crowns and silk, of grandeur and expectations.

And he was waiting.

Waiting for her.

People passed by—noblen and noblewon in glittering gowns and embroidered suits—laughing, chatting, moving past him like a river of elegance. Amidst the swirl of refinent, a familiar voice cut through.

"Well, well. You’re looking good—for soone who might be attending his last party today."

Luca turned.

Kyle was walking toward him in a sharp red suit that matched his fla-colored hair, every inch of him oozing his usual cocky charm. Beside him was Selena, elegant as ever in a flowing white dress that shimred with a soft moonlit glow, her white hair braided to the side. She looked almost ethereal.

Luca gave a small smirk. "And it looks like you found yourself a pretty partner."

At that, a faint blush rose on Selena’s cheeks. She averted her eyes, pretending not to hear.

Kyle gave a shrug. "Well, more like we were each other’s last choice."

Selena stood there with her usual cold expression, as nothing mattered to her.

Kyle chuckled. "Anyway, we’ll head inside. Aiden and Lilliane are probably already getting sward. Don’t be late, lover boy."

Luca waved as the two walked away, disappearing into the crowd.

He turned back to face the palace, adjusting the cuffs of his coat. Just as he did, the sound of elegant heels approached. He glanced sideways.

Seraphina.

Her usual flowing blue hair was tied up in a formal bun, accentuating her sharp cheekbones and sapphire eyes. She wore a sleek black dress with high slits, graceful yet commanding. At her side walked an older man, dignified and tall, with a serious face that carried the sa noble bearing.

"Are you waiting for soone?" she asked, her voice smooth and curious.

Luca gave a polite nod.

The man beside her raised an eyebrow. "And who might this young man be?"

"I am Luca Valentine, sir," Luca said respectfully.

"He’s one of my students, Father," Seraphina added, almost casually.

The old man gave a warm chuckle. "Hoho, is that so?"

Before anything else could be said, Seraphina gave a short bow. "We’ll be heading inside then. Enjoy your night, Luca."

He returned the gesture as they entered, disappearing through the ornate palace doors.

A soft sigh left Luca’s lips.

Mom and Dad should already be inside with Lisa. Vincent went ahead earlier with Senior Elowen. Most of the others are probably there too...

So why hasn’t she—

"Are you waiting for , Mr. Valentine?"

The voice was lodic, teasing, and unmistakably hers.

Luca turned.

And the world—truly—fell silent.

For a mont, he forgot how to breathe.

There she stood.

Aurelia.

Bathed in the palace’s golden glow, her crimson gown flowed like living fire, hugging every curve with an elegance that left nothing crude, only subli. Gold shimred at her throat and wrists, framing her like royalty—no, like sothing beyond that. Divine. Her hair, always fierce, was pinned with delicate precision, the curls cascading just enough to soften the sharpness in her gaze.

And those eyes—sharp, radiant, burning into his with playful warmth—held him captive.

Luca’s lips parted.

His heart pounded against his ribs like it wanted to escape.

He had seen magic. He had fought beasts. He had stared down death itself.

But nothing—nothing—had ever looked so devastatingly beautiful.

His throat dried.

His voice cracked as if trying to carry a truth too vast for sound.

"Gorgeous..." he breathed, barely more than a whisper.

Aurelia’s cheeks tinged the faintest pink, but the look on her face was unmistakable—she had achieved exactly the effect she was aiming for.

"Thank you," she said softly, a glint of satisfaction in her eyes. "You don’t look that bad yourself."

Her words snapped Luca from the trance he hadn’t even realized he was in.

He blinked, coughed once lightly, and straightened his back. A smile tugged at his lips as he offered his hand. "Shall we?"

She slid her hand into his, warm and steady.

Fingers intertwined.

And together, they walked.

Through the towering gates of the palace, side by side, hand in hand.

As they stepped into the grand hall, a hush fell.

All conversation ceased.

Heads turned.

Eyes widened.

Murmurs followed in their wake:

"Isn’t that the Iron Duke’s granddaughter?"

"Who’s that man with her?"

"They look stunning together."

"My gods, did soone actually ta the wild lion of Drayden?"

Luca could feel every gaze on him like flickers of fla across his skin.

So many eyes. So much attention.

And yet...

Surprisingly, I am not nervous.

He glanced sideways at the woman beside him—elegant, fierce, radiant—and smiled to himself.

So this is what it ans... when your confidence cos from the lady by your side.

As they walked deeper into the glowing palace, the first familiar faces they spotted were Luca’s parents, standing by the wine table. His mother and father were engaged in quiet conversation, each holding a delicate glass of crimson wine.

"Mom! Look at Big Brother!" Lisa’s excited voice rang out as she spotted them, her eyes sparkling with mischief and delight.

Both parents turned at once, surprise and warmth lighting their expressions.

Lisa imdiately ran over to Aurelia, her gaze fixed in awe. "Woah... so beautiful."

Aurelia chuckled softly, a smile blooming on her lips as she gently patted Lisa’s head.

Lisa turned toward Luca and grinned. "Brother, your luck is way too good."

Luca laughed under his breath and stepped forward, hand still linked with Aurelia’s.

"Mom, Dad," he said warmly, "Let introduce you—this is Aurelia."

He turned to her, voice gentle. "These are my parents."

Aurelia dipped her head with grace. "It’s nice to et you, sir, ma’am."

But Luca’s mother waved a hand, her smile kind and welcoming. "Oh, let it be, dear. If you don’t mind... just call us uncle and aunt."

His father nodded in agreent. "Indeed. You live up to your na, young lady. Truly, the jewel of Drayden."

Aurelia’s eyes softened. "I’ve heard a lot about you both, uncle."

He let out a hearty laugh. "My fortune, my fortune. Now go—enjoy the night. Don’t waste your ti chatting with old folks like us."

Luca gave a small bow of respect. "Then we’ll take our leave."

As they walked away, Aurelia whispered with a rare tenderness in her voice, "You have a lovely family."

Luca smiled. "I do indeed."

Soon after, they encountered another pair—Aiden, dressed in a sharp navy blue suit, and Lilliane in a delicate pink gown that matched the rose hue rising in her cheeks.

They exchanged greetings and complints, warm and brief.

"You two look good together," Aiden said with a smile.

Aurelia turned her gaze toward Lilliane, eyes sparkling with a teasing glint. "You two look good as well."

Lilliane’s face turned crimson in an instant as she fumbled for words, caught completely off guard "T–tan y-o–"

Before she could respond, Aurelia gave Luca’s hand a playful tug and interlaced her fingers with his once more. "Shall we?" she murmured.

They walked ahead once more—toward the heart of the palace—when a heavy voice suddenly bood across the hall, halting them in their tracks.

The sound echoed with authority, cutting through the soft hum of music and chatter. A hush fell over the crowd.

The air thickened. Luca felt it imdiately—a weight pressing down on him, not magical, but regal. Commanding. The kind of presence that needed no introduction.

All eyes turned toward the elevated platform at the end of the grand hall.

And then, that voice spoke again. Calm, firm, and unmistakably powerful:

"Why don’t you introduce this young man to us.... my granddaughter?"

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