Visitor

The soft clinking of porcelain and the aroma of freshly brewed tea filled the breakfast hall. As Haruto and Canary entered, they were greeted by Kortopi and Machi, already seated at the long wooden table laden with an assortment of breakfast items.

Kortopi, always a man of few words, simply nodded at their arrival. His expression was neutral, but there was a twinkle in his eyes, perhaps sensing the shift in dynamics between Haruto and Canary.

Machi's reaction was less reserved. Her eyes darted between the two, a playful smile tugging at her lips. "You two seem... different this morning," she teased, taking a sip of her tea.

Canary's cheeks tinted a soft pink, her eyes darting downward to hide her embarrassment. Haruto, on the other hand, seemed unperturbed. He took his seat at the head of the table, his posture straight, his movements measured.

Canary settled beside him, the warmth from their shared morning still palpable between them. She reached for a piece of toast, her fingers brushing against Haruto's momentarily. It was a fleeting touch, but it carried the weight of unspoken sentiments.

Observing Canary's attempt to get her breakfast, Haruto's fingers gracefully met hers. Without a word, he took the toast from the plate, spreading butter and jam with deliberate care, the way she had always preferred. His fingers worked skillfully, reflecting a surprising familiarity with such a simple task, one that he might not have often performed himself.

Placing the toast back onto her plate, he looked at her, and there was a gentle challenge in his eyes, daring her to make something of his gesture. Canary met his gaze, a soft smile touching her lips. "Thank you," she murmured, the warmth in her voice evident.

The quiet intimacy of the moment was in contrast to the bustling atmosphere of the breakfast hall. Machi, observing their interactions, couldn't resist a playful jab. "Should I expect breakfast in bed tomorrow, Haruto?" she quipped, a mischievous gleam in her eyes.

Haruto merely smirked, not rising to the bait. Instead, he reached for a bowl of fruit, plucking a grape. Before he could pop it into his mouth, Canary swiftly took it from him, expertly peeling the skin off and handing it back. It was a small act, one might even say unnecessary, but in that exchange lay years of understanding and shared moments.

Kortopi, ever the silent observer, took in the scene with mild amusement, continuing with his meal. The man didn't speak much, but his sharp eyes missed little.

Amid the light chatter, Haruto's demeanor never faltered. His every move, every glance held an understated authority. Even in such casual settings, his kingly aura was evident, not in the way he demanded attention, but in the natural way others deferred to him.

Machi, ever the provocateur, continued, "It's nice, you know, seeing you two like this. Almost like... a king and his queen." She winked at Canary, who blushed but didn't shy away.

Haruto merely shot Machi a look, one that held a hint of a warning but was devoid of real malice.

The atmosphere in the breakfast hall was light, with the soft chirping of birds and the distant hum of palace life providing a soothing backdrop. Haruto's every action, from the way he sipped his tea to how he held his silverware, was marked by a quiet authority. Canary, seated beside him, often stole glances his way, her heart warmed by the depth of their connection.

As the group enjoyed their morning reprieve, a servant stepped into the hall, her footsteps echoing lightly on the marble floors. She gave a respectful bow, her eyes never rising to meet Haruto's, a testament to the respect he commanded in the palace.

"King Haruto," she began, her voice clear but slightly hesitant, "a guest wishes to speak with you. We tried to send her away, but she insists it's crucial and refuses to leave."

Haruto raised an eyebrow, pausing in his actions. His gaze remained steady, giving nothing away. Canary, sensing the change in his demeanor, placed a gentle hand on his arm, seeking to comfort him.

Machi, always one to be curious, leaned forward slightly. "Who is she?" she mused, her tone light, but the underlying seriousness evident.

The servant hesitated for a moment before replying, "She said her name is Neon Nostrade. She didn't say anything else. She looks weak and fragile, so we didn't know if we should use force."

Hearing the name, Machi's eyes lit up with recognition. "Bring her in," she instructed the servant, a tone of curiosity threading her voice.

The servant nodded, giving a small bow, and swiftly exited the room. As the door closed behind her, Machi turned to Haruto, her gaze thoughtful. "I came across Neon Nostrade while gathering information on the Mafia," she began. "They say she's a Seer. Many of the Mafia bosses swear by her predictions, shaping their lives around them. I found it peculiar when they missed their own auction last night. It's probably related to her."

Haruto leaned back in his chair, processing the information. His features remained neutral, but there was a hint of intrigue in his eyes. "A Seer, you say? In the underground world, that's a title not given lightly."

Canary looked between Machi and Haruto, her brows furrowed in thought. "So, she's either a Nen master, or she's just a natural talent unaware of her own potential."

Kortopi, who had been silent until now, simply sipped his tea, his eyes sharp and observant. He rarely offered his opinions unless explicitly prompted.

The soft sound of footsteps approached, growing louder with each passing second. The double doors to the breakfast hall opened, revealing the servant from before. Behind her trailed a young girl, appearing to be in her late teens. She had a delicate frame and pale skin, her long, turquoise hair cascading down her back in soft waves. Dressed in a frilly pink dress with matching gloves and shoes, she looked like a porcelain doll. Her eyes, a soft shade of blue, darted around nervously, taking in the room's occupants.

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