The halls of House Greyrat hadn't been this lively in years.
Silk banners hung from the marble columns. A quartet played soft strings in the corner. Noble families in embroidered cloaks and tailored gowns mingled across the garden terrace, sipping wine and trading pleasantries laced with subtle jabs.
It was Adonis's 14th birthday.
He hated it.
He stood near the balcony, dressed in a crisp navy tunic with silver trim, hair swept neatly, a thin ceremonial sword at his side—not that he needed it. Servants moved like shadows around him, bearing wine, fruit, or sweet pastries on trays.
"Still sulking?" a voice said beside him.
Adonis turned slightly. His father, Kael, was leaning casually against the railing, looking more like a retired mercenary forced into noblewear than a lord.
"I told Mother we didn't need this," Adonis muttered.
"You did," Kael agreed, raising a glass to his lips. "But the moment rumors got out that you reached Knight class at fourteen… it was either throw a party or let half the kingdom show up uninvited."
Adonis glanced at the crowd. He could feel their stares, their curiosity. Young nobles whispered to each other. Older ones eyed him like an artifact. Some were already plotting introductions.
"Why does it matter so much to them?"
Kael smirked. "Because they're nobles. And nobles love one thing more than power—potential."
Adonis didn't reply.
He hated being looked at like a prize. But even he understood: a 14-year-old with a Knight-class mana core wasn't normal. In a world where mana core advancement slowed dramatically after each stage, talent this pure was rare.
Dangerously rare.
He had no interest in joining factions or playing politics—but appearances, his mother often reminded him, mattered.
Across the hall, Caelis stood gracefully beside a countess, nodding politely while subtly guiding the conversation. She wore a sapphire dress, her silver hair pinned elegantly. Her eyes flicked toward her son every so often, checking. Measuring.
She had orchestrated this entire event.
And though Adonis resented the attention, he respected her intent.
"Smile a little," Kael said, patting him on the back. "You look like you're heading to war."
"I'd rather," Adonis muttered.
Soon, the introductions began.
A line of young nobles, dressed in their best, came forward to greet him—sons of viscounts, daughters of barons, third-born heirs of counts. They introduced themselves with careful words and polite tones, gauging his reactions.
Many tried to flatter.
Some challenged him subtly with passive comments.
One or two were bold enough to suggest "friendly duels sometime."
Adonis smiled when needed, nodded when expected. He had learned enough to navigate this.
But he hated every second.
The only part that felt remotely genuine was when he noticed a commoner servant girl drop a tray in the corner—and instinctively flinched when a noblewoman raised her voice.
Adonis's eyes narrowed slightly.
His sword magic stirred for a moment before he forced it still.
Later in the evening, Caelis pulled him aside.
"You're doing well," she said quietly. "You carried yourself like a noble."
"I don't want to be one," he replied honestly.
She gave a soft, tired smile. "You don't have to want it. But you must know how to wear the mask."
There was a pause. Then she reached into her sleeve and pulled out a small box, wrapped in deep violet cloth.
"Your real birthday gift," she said. "Open it when you're alone."
The party continued late into the night.
By the time the guests left and the music faded, Adonis slipped away to the solitude of his room. The golden sword still floated above his mana core, quietly humming with life.
He unwrapped the cloth.
Inside the box was a ring.
Simple. Silver. Inscribed with ancient etching.
A note lay beneath it, written in his mother's elegant hand.
"This belonged to your grandfather. The ring of Mindward. It strengthens mental resilience and clarity of focus. I thought you might need it—especially with your element."
Adonis closed the box slowly.
She understood more than he gave her credit for.
He looked out the window at the moonlit garden, where the nobles had once mingled, and let out a quiet breath.
"Two more days," he thought. "Then I leave."
He would begin his journey as an adventurer.
And next time he stood in such a crowd, he wouldn't need to wear a mask.
He'd stand as someone they couldn't ignore—even without a noble name.