Attention

"I absolutely dread going to this," I groan, throwing my head back in exaggerated misery as the maids bustle around me, carefully fastening the back of my evening gown. The crimson fabric gleams in the light, hugging my figure perfectly, and I have to admit—it's stunning. Not that I'd ever admit it out loud. Complaining is a crucial part of my process.

"Stop squirming, Miss Morne," one of the maids mutters, trying to tie the delicate lace along the bodice.

"I'm not squirming," I argue, tilting my head to avoid the tug of another maid fixing my hair. "I'm resisting. There's a difference."

Meanwhile, Viper stands in the corner, barking orders like a drill sergeant. Servants scurry in and out with trays of jewelry, each piece more extravagant than the last. I can practically hear my father's voice in my head, telling Viper to make sure I look like the crown jewel of the entire event. Apparently, being rich isn't enough—you have to look rich too.

"This one," Viper says decisively, lifting a necklace adorned with a massive mana crystal. The thing looks like it could double as a chandelier.

"You're so invested in this," I whine as he steps behind me to clasp it around my neck.

"Well, Master Richard did ask me to take matters into my own hands," Viper replies, his tone clipped as he adjusts the necklace to sit perfectly against my collarbone. "He knew you'd pull... this."

"This?" I repeat, turning to glare at him over my shoulder.

"Yes. The whining, the complaining, the general refusal to cooperate," he says matter-of-factly, he rolls his eyes.

"Hmph!" I cross my arms, careful not to disturb the maids still fussing with the folds of my gown. "You've gotten awfully bold, Viper. As if I'm not the one paying your salary."

"You're not," he replies without missing a beat, plucking a pair of matching crystal earrings from a servant's tray.

"Semantics," I scoff. "What's his is mine, okay?"

Viper raises an eyebrow and smirks as he clips the earrings onto my ears. "If you say so."

I turn to the full-length mirror in my room, my complaints momentarily forgotten as I take in my reflection. The red gown is perfection, every fold and seam designed to flatter. The mana crystal necklace glows faintly, casting a soft light that enhances the warm tones of the dress. Even the earrings—ridiculously heavy as they are—complete the look.

"I look amazing," I say, turning this way and that to admire myself from every angle. "I mean, I always do, but today? Even more so."

"The humility," Viper deadpans, handing me a pair of sky-blue heels.

"Hey, when you've got it, flaunt it," I shoot back, slipping into the heels.

The color clashes horribly with the gown, but somehow it works—probably because I make it work. I stand tall, letting the heels add the perfect finishing touch to the ensemble.

"Ready?" Viper asks, already moving toward the door.

"Do I have a choice?" I mutter, trailing after him.

He glances back at me. "No. Not unless you want to deal with Master Richard's wrath for skipping the 60th birthday party of an S-rank guildmaster."

I groan dramatically, the sound echoing through the hall as we make our way downstairs. "Why does anyone even care about this guy's birthday? He's sixty. He's probably too old to care himself."

Viper gives me a look. "He's the guildmaster of the Roaring Tiger. His influence stretches across multiple territories, and half the world will be watching the live feed tonight. It's kind of a big deal."

"And yet, here I am," I say, spreading my arms as if presenting myself to an adoring crowd, "reduced to a glorified display piece. You know, Viper, sometimes I think my talents are wasted on these events."

"Your talent for complaining?"

"Ha-ha," I reply dryly, but I can't help the smirk that creeps onto my face.

By the time we reach the waiting carriage, my earlier dread has subsided, replaced by the usual mix of annoyance and begrudging excitement. As much as I hate these events, I do love the attention. And tonight? All eyes will be on me. Well most eyes.