Chapter 60. If This Isn't Love, Then What is?

The two noblemen traversed past a spiral of stairs.

They ascended up a row of white marble steps in a clockwise direction, with the rich captivating music playing in the background. Below them was the twirling of dresses—riveting ocean blues, scarlet reds, starry whites, jade greens, and maiden pinks. The fabrics spun around the ballroom floor, resembling a water's surface splashed into blossoming ripples—petals unfurling from within.

Lucilline's eyes couldn't help but soften.

The sight was truly beautiful. Layers of silk flew across the ballroom floor, and candlelight illuminated from the chandelier would shed sight upon their dance.

"It really is amazing how many people can come together," Percival understood, "...and dance as one."

He gripped the staircase's railing; the smooth surface rubbing against his white palms. Percival's hair was set on one shoulder, while his white suit remained clean and unfettered of dirt.

He shone like a star, and his eyes melted like caramel in coffee.

The scent of sweet chocolate wafted in the air.

"Ah, let's continue upwards." Percival nudged, "I want to show you something."

Lucilline's lips parted, "Ah, yes."

Next to his pearly ears, the sound of strings playing roared wildly. The musicians were all in sync with one another, drawing their bows at the same time, their posture unified as one. It was as if a deity had possessed them all just for this occasion, to play every single note together.

"Um," Lucilline accidentally tripped forwards, his black leather heels having crashed at the step before him. He sprawled forwards—

Percival caught him on time, an arm wrapped around his waist.

The contact between their clothings had sparked something. Both Percival and Lucilline pulled away, as if they'd be electrocuted if they touched one another.

"Haha..." Lucilline awkwardly laughed, "I can't believe I was so clumsy."

"No, it's not your fault." Percival smiled, "I will have someone reconstruct the stairs to make every step wider."

Lucilline: ??? There's no need for that though ???

An awkward silence fell between the two.

They had no idea what else to say. Thus, only the fair sound of a string orchestra echoed behind them... replacing the talk with their song.

At last, they arrived at the second floor.

Leading the way, Percival's straight and tall back forked a path of shadow behind himself. Lucilline blended in his shadows, his inky black hair akin to the silhouette. Only his pale skin contrasted against the darkness, like a ghost wandering the halls.

"We're here." Percival smiled, a hint of glee found in his voice.

Lucilline's eyes widened at the sight.

They arrived at a balcony, the materials made of marble and limestone, coated in beautiful white paint—as if a bucketload of liquid moonstone splashed across.

Before the balcony, an expanse of endless illuminated buildings had broadened. Even at the dark horizon, only the light of lit houses and shops had purged across. Back at Duke Rubius' manor, looking outside the window would only result in seeing a bunch of tall trees—their trunks and leaves blocking the city's bright and warm light.

Lucilline could finally feel his people's warmth up close—though he was afar.

"Isn't it beautiful?" Percival chuckled, his lean figure inclining against the balcony fence. His face was handsome and warm, as if bathed in a tub of hot chocolate. "Every time I look out this balcony, I am reminded of all the people my family promised to protect and serve."

"...whether they are commoners, wealthy people, businessmen, maidens, or even homeless... we vow to protect them."

When saying such heartfelt words, Percival wore a smile, his lips curving upwards in a weak yet enjoyable manner. His eyes reflected the lights of lit houses, flickering candlelight dancing in his pupils. They were warm and gentle... malleable like soft dough.

The brown-haired nobleman reached a hand out, his palm facing the houses in the distance. His five fingers stretched out, as if trying to touch what was before him.

Then, his hand curled into a fist—almost like he caught the lights at the horizon.

Percival pressed that closed fist on his chest, "This is what I've been taught to do. This is the path of my future."

Lucilline's eyes fell on the brown-haired nobleman.

Though gentle and tall, resembling the spirit of a grandfather oak tree, he was also sturdy and mature. Such a straight and unrelenting figure...

Lucilline was surprised to realize that he now had to look up higher to see him.

"I used to defy what I've been taught." Percival spun around, facing the black-haired nobleman, stunning the latter. "I thought that I was just a tool... a child to inherit our legacy... so that I would have to carry on all the work and papers..."

A silly smile bloomed on his face, "I was really foolish back then, huh."

Lucilline had to blink twice to register what he was seeing. His fingers clenched at the hem of his trench coat, while his throat felt itchy.

"Those past three years while you were gone," Percival leaned his back against the fence, his tall figure facing his honoured guest, "I learned and experienced a lot. There needs to be someone to make the people happy, to make peace amongst the kingdom. I wish to be that person."

His hazel brown eyes thinned, akin to the curvature of a crescent moon. "I wish to make everyone happy—especially you."

Lucilline was taken aback.

Especially me? Do I even deserve to be happy?

"It has always been you protecting me." Percival blushed, his cheeks becoming a rosy shade of red. It complemented his fair skin, colours spilling onto his plain canvas.

He remembered his first adventure with Lucilline—sneaking into S Academy to hunt for "ghosts". Back then, he hid behind the black-haired nobleman like a child. He screamed when faced against the dark... cried when he was scared, and even worse... made himself incompetent.

When he learned of the harsh circumstances in the desserts store... he was hopeless against the tide of economics. All he old do was curl his fists and hope that everything would turn out better for the common people.

When he helped track down the robbers who stole the Book of Revelation, he fired an arrow—and let a few of the thieves escape. He was weak.

But throughout all those two years, he always wished for one thing.

"This time," a layer of mist watered before Percival's eyes, becoming a waxy layer of toffee, "Let me protect you." Let me become the strong one and make you happy.

Lucilline Rubius was at a loss for words.

Protect me? You? From what?

It was then he realized that Percival was still endearingly looking at him... his eyes soft enough to melt into liquid.

Well, the sentiment is enough.

A chuckle fell out of Lucilline's lips. "Then I will wait for you." He stepped closer, reaching a hand up to fondle the long ponytail of brown hair.

He patted Percival's head, his warm palms gently rubbing back and forth.

"You grew so tall," Lucilline couldn't help but sigh, having to stand on the tip of his toes to reach the brown-haired nobleman's head. "As expected of the person who will protect me." He gently rubbed Percival's head, like he was his loyal pet.

Percival's face uncontrollably burned red.

He bowed his head, allowing the black-haired nobleman to reach it easier. As expected, with greater reach, Lucilline gently brushed his fingers through the strands of rich creamy brown. The long strands of hair was soft to the touch, as if clouds were dancing on his fingertips.

Gradually, Lucilline withdrew his hand.

The soft touch of Percival's hair still remained in his senses.

"...ahh, my hair." Percival felt his bangs, noticing that they were out of shape.

Lucilline felt a twinge of guilt stab in his heart. "I'm sorry." He stepped forwards, his figure nearing the other. "I can help you fix it."

A gleam of light flashed through Percival's eyes. "Then okay."

Percival sat cross-legged on the ground, while Lucilline knelt behind him, fixing his hair. An elastic hair tie was gently tugged from the ponytail... releasing all the locks of hair to fall unto a lean back.

Lucilline was distracted.

Percival had long and thin hair, lustrous to the touch, akin to soft bronze. They spread across his back, reaching down to his lean waist. Lucilline gently ran his fingers through the locks of hair, brushing and surprisingly did not encounter any knots.

It was smooth—smoother than the Leinhart House's spoiled cat.

"Does Lucilline like it?" A small grin arose from Percival's lips.

"...like what?" Lucilline faltered.

"My hair," Percival countered, "If Lucilline likes it, then you can touch it more."

To this proposal, the black-haired nobleman whole-heartedly agreed. He eagerly brushed through the locks of brown caramel hair, letting it fall through his slender fingers, like water droplets phasing past the curtains of his delicate eyelashes.

This reminded Lucilline of the past—when he was young, and when Duchess Rubius was still alive.

He would brush his small and puny hands through her hair... weaving them past every strand, seeing how long until he reaches a bump or knot. Surprisingly, it was a smooth journey.

His mother would then smile contentedly, dozing off to the touch of her family.

"...I like it." Lucilline admitted, his pearly white earlobes burning red. "...I like your hair very much."

Percival was stunned. You like my hair even though you have more beautiful locks of your own?

A small chuckle spilled out from his mouth. "Then good." He hummed, satisfied with the touch... the fingers gently prodding his scalp... massaging him on the sides.

Back then, when his mother was still alive and well (free from the shackles of illness), she would always help brush the long locks of Grand Duke Delta's hair. Only when it was the touch of their own... would they succumb to comfort.

Percival liked to imagine that he was Grand Duke Delta, and Lucilline would be his wife—

"!!!" The brown-haired nobleman jolted.

"What's wrong?" Lucilline prodded.

Percival shook his head rigidly. "Nothing, it's nothing." He denied anything being wrong but his entire face was burning redder than a tomato. His heart hammered violently against his chest, making it painful like a pulsing bruise. If this isn't love, then what is!?

*****

Stranded from the music and dancing, a lone noblewomen sat down in the corner, heaving a hesitant sigh. She pulled at her forearm-high gloves—evening gloves that gently stuck to her arms. They were made of silky smooth fabric... the richest clothing she'd ever worn.

Her hair was raven black, short to her shoulders.

Compared to the other maidens and noblewomen, her arms were fully clothed and covered. Her dress sagged all the way down at her ankles, with leather boots born at the feet.

She belonged to none noble family—rather, she was a lone wolf.

"Gira." A low husky voice whispered in her ear.

But there was nobody near her.

The noblewoman did not tense, rather, she relaxed. Yes, Nineteen?

She never heard of the name "Nineteen" until a week ago. Gira had been hiding in the sewers, living on the streets and eating off of crumbs. Ever since the death of the Leader in M, and the arrest of her brother Gilg and his friend Tetra, Gira had no other place to belong to.

The remaining members of M had betrayed her, sneaking off to join K instead.

The young reincarnator was furious.

How did the leader die? She merely left for less than ten minutes—but when she came back, his body had been torn and ripped into shambles, his blood splattered across the entire house.

Even worse, the Book of Revelation was taken by the Royal Family—by Dimitri Von Arthur.

Then, Gira met Nineteen.

She was an old woman, her skin wrinkling and sagging, revealing the hollow husk of her bones. Even though Nineteen could hardly move a finger, there was the feeling of imminent danger within that old woman...

However, Nineteen came up a deal with her. "I am a mind demon. I can infiltrate into the minds of others, and nobody can block me out. The past few years, I noticed your built-up resentment. You hate House Delta, don't you? They captured and arrested your brother... and his best friend. They took away everything from you."

Gira couldn't control the flooding hate, which blackened her heart into the ugly colour of her deceased leader's torn body.

I will make sure to get revenge!

The young "noblewoman" returned to the present. Her sight trailed to the nonchalant appearance of Grand Duke Delta, sitting on his throne while enjoying the plates of fruit and delicacies.

Everything was perfect. Nineteen had helped disguise her into the birthday banquet.

Gira wondered how everyone would react once Grand Duke Delta dies on the day of his fortieth birthday. The second male lead—Percival Delta would definitely be desperate! He would for sure fall into despair! Gira no longer cared about the plot.

She did not care if Lucilline Rubius destroyed Lydia Kingdom.

The reincarnator only thirsted for revenge!

Through the corner of her eyes, she noticed that the attendants serving Grand Duke Delta had left. At last, the Grand Duke himself slowly got off his throne, descending down the stairs.

Slowly, she sat up from the corner of the ballroom. "That's right, Gira." Nineteen whispered, her old voice sly and mischievous. "Take the opportunity now... now that he is finally within range of you."

Grand Duke Delta was only a few metres away.

Gira felt her heart race, pumping blood all over to her limbs. Her hands shook, unable to control the urge to relish at her revenge.

An attendant passed by her.

Gira grabbed a glass of wine from the tray which the attendant carried. The attendant did not sense anything was wrong.

The reincarnator inched closer to the Grand Duke.

There was no guards near him... no butlers... no attendants... no nothing.

"Good luck, Gira. I believe you can do it." Nineteen spoke to her, only scratching her itchy heart. "I am afraid of blood and gore. I will take my leave." Without leaving her any room to argue, the mind demon flashed and disappeared. The reincarnator did not care.

Gira focused solely on her revenge.

Grand Duke Delta was at least a metre away from her. He did not face her, as if unaware to the hostile energy swallowing him whole.

It happened in an instant.

Gira leaped, her figure flashing like an unsightly monster. She raised the glass, smashing it downwards at the Grand Duke's wide open head—!

*****

"AHHHHHH!!! MURDER!!!" A scream tore out of the manor.

Lucilline's smiling expression had instantly disappeared. The black-haired nobleman leaped up onto his feet, his brows furrowed at the abrupt change of atmosphere. A rush of cold air had attacked his pores, sending a chill down his spine.

"What is happening?" He rushed away from the balcony.

Percival followed him, though his expression was unfazed.

They quickly arrived at the top of the spiral staircase—witnessing everything from a bird's eye view. The ballroom floor was flung into chaos.

"Don't be afraid!" A familiar voice hollered out.

A knight in shining armour had stepped forwards—beautiful snowy swan-like hair, reaching to his thin yet sturdy shoulders. One of his hands was tightly grasped onto a noblewoman's wrist, deadly locked like a pair of cuffs. A pair of amethyst purple eyes flashed, and his lips opened to continue.

"You dare to attempt murder on Grand Duke Delta? How bold?" Azalea huffed.

Gira shrunk while stuck in his grasp. Impossible! Who are you? How come I never noticed that you were here!

The "supposed" endangered Grand Duke Delta was left safe—except for a messy spill of red wine splattered across his white suit. A disgusted scowl was written across his old and wrinkled face.

"Lucilline, do you know why father decided to celebrate his birthday this year?" Percival gently smiled.

Lucilline rigidly looked at the brown-haired nobleman, waiting for an answer.

Percival delivered it, "It's because he's luring the prey into his trap with bait."