The envelope was matte black, sealed with crimson wax and no emblem.
No signature.
No house crest.
Just a name—Velas—and an address that led to the edge of the noble district, where wealth grew teeth and secrets wore perfume.
Velas turned the envelope over once, then again.
Seraphina watched from the window seat, dressed in soft silk, her silver-blonde hair unbraided and falling down her back. "Are you going?"
"I don't run from mystery," he said, slicing the wax open with a fingernail.
Inside was a card of black vellum inked in silver:
> You are cordially invited to a night of masks, desires, and unveiled truths.
Midnight. House of Roses.
Wear nothing familiar.
Seraphina tilted her head. "The House of Roses? That place is practically a rumor."
Velas raised a brow. "But you know it."
She smirked. "Everyone knows it. They just pretend they don't."
---
The House of Roses wasn't a mansion—it was a dream stitched into reality.
Velas arrived in a long black coat, hair swept back, his face hidden behind a silver half-mask carved with delicate runes. The doorman said nothing, only opened the doors into velvet-lit shadows and soft music that wound through corridors like smoke.
Inside, masks of gold and onyx mingled under chandeliers of floating crystal. Courtesans whispered into nobles' ears. Waiters in leather harnesses passed trays of red wine and silver-bladed sweets.
Everywhere, eyes turned toward him.
Not because they knew his name.
But because he walked like he belonged—and might ruin everything.
---
She found him before he found her.
A woman in red silk and a fox-shaped mask, lounging against a mirrored pillar, a glass of wine poised at her lips.
Mira Valen.
Even behind the mask, he could tell.
"You came," she said without greeting.
"You invited me."
"I wanted to see if you had the balls to walk into a trap."
"Wouldn't be the first time."
She smiled.
"You're attracting attention. Half the nobles here think you're someone's bastard. The other half think you're a demon in disguise. Which one are you tonight?"
Velas stepped closer, voice low. "The kind that doesn't kneel to gossip."
That made her laugh.
"I like you more when you're cocky."
"Then you'll love me soon."
Mira's eyes flashed behind her mask. She liked the danger. She liked that he didn't flinch.
But her tone dropped. "You're being watched."
Velas already knew.
Three masked men had subtly changed position around the room the moment he entered. Their posture was too rigid. Their hands too empty. Bodyguards—or assassins.
He didn't care.
"What do they want?"
She sipped her wine. "Depends who sent them. But if you're here, they'll try to test you."
"Then let them."
"You want a stage?" she murmured. "I'll give you one."
---
The test came in the form of a "game."
A small elevated stage, four competitors, each masked, chosen by anonymous vote.
Velas didn't hesitate when his name—well, his number—was called. He stepped into the circle surrounded by nobles drunk on spectacle, blood, and power.
The challenge was "control."
Each participant was given a spell orb. They had to control a summoned creature for as long as possible—without breaking composure, spilling blood, or surrendering their minds.
Velas stood barefoot on the enchanted rune.
The orb cracked in his palm—and power rushed in.
A beast formed.
Not a demon, nor a wolf.
But something ancient.
Its body was mist, shaped like a serpent with wings, burning with golden eyes and a low growl that stirred something in him.
The other contestants fell one by one—screaming, twitching, losing control as their creatures clawed into their minds.
But Velas didn't flinch.
He stepped forward.
Whispered not in command, but in invitation.
The serpent slithered closer and bowed its head.
He placed a hand on its brow—and something passed between them. Memory. Hunger. Legacy.
The crowd gasped.
Even Mira sat forward in her seat, stunned.
The creature faded.
Velas stood alone.
Unshaken.
---
[System Notification]
Legacy Resonance Detected.
Skill Acquired: Dominion Bond (Passive) – Creatures of desire or corruption recognize your will. Resistance lowered by 25%.
Event Reaction: Reputation +20 (Upper Nobility)
Fame Gained: "The Masked Tamer"
---
He descended the stage slowly, letting them all see him.
Let them fear what they could not name.
As he passed Mira, she whispered, "Now they'll come after you with knives instead of rumors."
Velas didn't stop. "Good. I'm better with blades than words."
She smiled again.
And this time, it wasn't amusement.
It was respect.
---
Back at the estate, Seraphina was waiting in the candlelight.
She knew before he said a word.
"You made a scene."
"I made an impression," he corrected, pulling off the mask.
"Same thing, in this city."
He poured himself a drink, then leaned against the edge of the table.
Seraphina crossed the room and touched his jaw.
Her tone was soft—but her grip was steel.
"They'll test you harder next time."
"I hope they do," he whispered. "I need the world to know I'm done playing small."
Her eyes studied his.
And then she nodded.
"Then I'll help you burn their games to the ground."