After all the noisy chitter-chatter and chaotic reunions, we finally settled down to eat. The long dining table stretched out before us—an extravagant thing clearly meant to seat far more than just a handful.
Twelve seats in total, but only seven of us. The rest sat empty, abandoned to the quiet corners of the room.
Despite all the space, we chose to sit close together, shoulder to shoulder. There was something comforting about that—being near, like we were still clinging to that old, invisible thread that had once bound us.
Art, never one to sit quietly for more than a minute, clapped his hands with dramatic flair. Right on cue, a group of butlers and maids flowed into the room like a well-rehearsed performance troupe, each carrying covered silver platters that shimmered under the soft chandelier light.
The clinking of cutlery and trays echoed softly as the servers set down the dishes before us. The aroma hit immediately—sweet, spicy, smoky, rich.
It was the kind of smell that wrapped around your senses, coaxed out your hunger, and promised bliss with every bite.
A maid standing next to Art lifted the silver dome from his plate, unveiling a vibrant dish that looked like chaos on a plate—a swirl of colors and textures, from crisp greens to glossy amber-hued meat.
Art puffed his chest out and spoke in an exaggerated, deep baritone. "This, my esteemed companions, is none other than the legendary Rainbow Fiery Chicken's meat, served with Juggling Leaves salad. A delicacy among delicacies!"
He twirled his imaginary moustache and even lifted a spoon with a theatrical flourish, like some snobby noble from a bad play. The tone, the fake accent—it was all so off-key it was borderline unbearable.
Evelyn, seated gracefully beside me, leaned in and whispered with a half-smile, "Has he… gotten worse over the years? Or is it just me?"
I suppressed a sigh, keeping my voice low so only she could hear. "Honestly, I think he was always this much of an asshole. You just forgot."
She laughed softly, covering her mouth with her hand as though to maintain her decorum—but the amused glint in her eyes gave her away. "Fair enough."
After that brief exchange, the table fell into relative silence. Not out of awkwardness, but necessity. Everyone began eating, and apparently we all still had enough table manners to avoid talking with our mouths full.
Which, honestly, worked perfectly for me. I wasn't much of a talk-during-meals type of person anyway.
The food was, to no one's surprise, excellent. Tender meat that practically melted on the tongue, paired with the surprising zest of the leaves that lived up to their name by doing a little dance of flavor on your tongue.
I had to give credit where it was due—whoever the chef was, they were leagues ahead of any cook back in my old world.
Once we were all done, the servants returned silently, clearing the dishes with practiced grace. The clatter of empty plates and the soft footsteps of retreating staff signaled the end of the meal.
Art leaned back in his chair, letting out a satisfied, entirely unnecessary burp. "Ahh… I've eaten like a king. My body refuses to move. I am one with the chair now."
Lilith raised an eyebrow, a smirk curling on her lips. "Oh wow, what a blessing. Guess we finally get some peace and quiet."
Art, always the type to escalate, turned to her with a sly grin. "Peace? Oh no, little girl. I said my body can't move—my mouth is as free as ever."
There was a noticeable twitch in Lilith's brow, but instead of an immediate retort, she surprised us all by smiling sweetly. Dangerously sweetly.
"Oh, you sweet, innocent child," she cooed with saccharine venom. "Why do you think we'd stay here and wait for your mouth to catch up to your brain?"
For a brief, shining second, silence hung over the room. Then it hit him.
You could see the moment the metaphorical sword of realization dropped on Art's soul.
'And thus, the jester felt true fear for the first time.'
His face contorted in horror, eyes wide as saucers. "No… wait. You wouldn't."
Too late.
Lilith stood up from her chair and gave the rest of us a knowing glance and a sly nod.
Without a word, we all rose—Amelia, Zyon, Freya, Celeste, Evelyn, even me. We shared a collective look. Mischief and camaraderie in perfect synchronization.
Then—
We bolted.
Chairs scraped. Laughter erupted. Doors were flung open.
Art's voice echoed after us, shrill and betrayed. "Wait!! No!! Don't leave me here! Have mercy!!"
But we were already gone.
We stormed out of the hall like escaping prisoners, laughter trailing behind us like smoke. The corridor was filled with echoes of our footfalls and Art's distant wails of betrayal.
"Traitors!! Cowards!! I thought we were friends!!"
I didn't even look back. But in my mind, I could perfectly picture him—sprawled dramatically across the table, a lone king abandoned in his crumbling feast hall, horror in his eyes and a half-eaten leaf still dangling from his fork.
...
Running like madlads through the castle's labyrinthine corridors, we followed Lilith without a second thought—mostly because she ran with such blind confidence that it almost seemed like she knew where she was going.
She didn't.
By the time we reached the upper floors, panting slightly, the night sky stretched wide and clear above us. Moonlight spilled generously through the tall, arched windows, casting silver streaks across the marble floors. The vast open balcony beside us revealed a quiet world beneath, painted in dusky blues and silvers.
Finally, Lilith came to a stop, placing her hands on her hips triumphantly… before squinting around.
"…Where are we going exactly?"
Dead silence.
All of us—me, Celeste, Freya, Evelyn, Zyon—turned our heads in perfect sync, our eyes flat and unimpressed.
Celeste's sigh echoed first through the quiet corridor. "Weren't you the one leading us?"
Lilith blinked, then waved her hand in dismissive mockery. "What? What are you even talking about? I was not even in the fr—"
She paused mid-sentence.
"Oh." Her expression shifted like a crashing wave of realization. "I was in the front, wasn't I?"
She offered us a sheepish grin and scratched the back of her head. "Guess we're lost then."
Celeste folded her arms. "Great. We pranked Art and now we're wandering like idiots on the top floor of a literal castle."
Freya raised an eyebrow. "We probably got ourselves cursed in the process."
An involuntary nod escaped me. 'Honestly… that jester probably did curse us out of spite.'
Zyon, ever the stoic one, facepalmed with the grace of someone who had seen too much nonsense in too little time. "It's late. The banquet will end soon, and we're still stuck up here."
Freya crossed her arms. "We should probably split up and search for a staircase. Worst case, we loop around."
It was a reasonable idea. Logical even.
But apparently, being in proximity of Art for too long had temporarily altered my brain chemistry.
"How about…" I began, casually stepping near the railing and peering over. "We jump off from here?"
Silence. Again.
The kind of silence that feels like the world collectively held its breath just to question your life choices.
Lilith leaned dramatically toward Celeste, whispering just loud enough for everyone to hear. "Art's madness has infected Cassius, hasn't it?"
Celeste solemnly nodded. "I think so too. The Art Virus is spreading."
She placed a hand over her chest and made a horrified face, as if mourning our collective sanity.
'What the hell! Why is it considered 'cool' when Brent leaped off the VIP balcony like a dramatic hero, but when I suggest it, I'm suddenly the village lunatic?!'
'This is blatant discrimination!!'
Before I could argue my case, Amelia stepped forward with a gentle but firm voice. "Guys… let's just keep moving. We'll find our way."
Her tone was enough to reel the chaos in. Everyone went quiet.
Then, Lilith narrowed her eyes and smirked with faux wickedness. "Ohhh, look at that—fiancée to the rescue."
She turned to the others. "Alright! Everyone scatter. Let's give these two lovebirds their private time."
The rest caught on immediately, retreating with knowing grins and muffled laughter. Celeste offered a little wink as she turned away, and Freya gave a mock salute.
Even Zyon chuckled under his breath before walking off. Evelyn lingered a little, her eyes flicking between me and Amelia with a curious glint, but then she, too, disappeared around the corridor.
And just like that, it was quiet again.
The only sound was the distant rustle of the wind, and the soft hush of our breaths.
We stood there, near the open railings of the castle's upper floor, bathed in moonlight. The balcony stretched wide before us, the cool night air brushing against our skin.
Stars glittered above like fragments of forgotten wishes, and below, the faint outlines of gardens and towers shimmered faintly in the dark.
Amelia didn't say anything for a moment. She stepped closer to the railing and placed her hands on the stone, her eyes gazing out at the view—lost in thought.
I joined her, letting the silence linger for a bit longer. It wasn't awkward… just heavy with something unspoken.