Chapter 95 New Year's Party (3)

Words : 1932 Updated : Sep 12th, 2025

I took another sip of my mocktail, letting Ian's words settle in the back of my mind. His laughter lingered, echoing above the soft background music and the lively chatter around us. In the distance, silver platters of gourmet food floated on thin anti-grav fields, weaving among guests in a silent display of futuristic convenience. Occasional flashes of holographic decorations rippled across the vaulted ceilings of the Creighton estate—an architectural marvel combining old-world grandeur and sleek technological accents. New Year's in the Creighton household was always a lavish affair, but I'd be lying if I said I'd experienced many of them firsthand. My family's social circles never overlapped much with this echelon, not until my name started traveling on the tongues of classmates and teachers alike: Arthur Nightingale, a cunning strategist, a potential rising star. And so, here I was, mingling with the empire's most prestigious youths at a party that felt like a microcosm of competitive alliances and silent rivalries. Ian drained the last of his own mocktail in a theatrical gulp, then winked at me. "No more heavy talk. This is a party, after all. Time to embrace the festivities." I nodded, letting a thin smile form. Right. A party. A quick glance around the main hall revealed a scene that was both elegant and strangely tense: Aria, my younger sister, stood near the central fireplace with Rachel, who was smiling warmly at something Aria said. Ren, poised and aloof, stood in conversation with Jin, their expressions guarded. Lucifer, impeccable in his forest-green suit, strode across the marble floor with an air of quiet authority that made people step aside instinctively. And Cecilia… well, she was scanning the room too, that bright crimson dress of hers catching the eye of more than one bystander. She flicked her gaze toward me, smiled faintly, then turned away with an unreadable expression. Seraphina, of course, was nowhere to be seen in the immediate crowd. She was close enough that I sensed her presence, though. Possibly lurking near a tall window that overlooked the estate's expansive gardens, or in some unoccupied corner—serene and watchful as ever. I released a slow exhale, placing my empty glass on the bar's polished counter. The year was almost at its end, but it felt more like an intersection of half-resolved storylines. I'd come here expecting a mild celebration, maybe some tense interactions with Lucifer or a few sly jabs from Ren. Instead, the evening had begun with tensions swirling between Rachel, Cecilia, and Seraphina, each giving me vibes I wasn't entirely sure how to parse. If Ian's assessment about my rivalry with Lucifer was correct, I could only guess how such undercurrents would boil over by midnight. Still, I was never one to shy away from complicated dynamics. Especially not now, with so much at stake. Aria caught my eye from across the room, beckoning me over. Ian patted my shoulder as I rose from my barstool, whispering "Good luck," in a half-teasing manner. I left him there, turning toward my sister. She was wearing a pastel-blue dress embroidered with subtle silver lines—a bit simpler than most but radiating an understated charm that suited her. She had grown up more than I realized; the sparkle in her eyes hinted that she was as alert to the party's many undercurrents as I was. Rachel stood beside her, the golden highlights of her hair catching glints from the overhead chandeliers. She wore a gentle, welcoming smile that always seemed to reach her eyes. "Arthur," she greeted softly when I approached. I followed her gaze, turning around to see Cecilia approaching, her crimson dress almost glowing under the chandelier's light. She navigated the crowd with feline grace, head held high, a half-smile on her lips that sent waves through the onlookers. Despite the party's bustling warmth, a chill of tension rippled in the air as she neared me—and, by extension, Rachel. "Hello, Rachel," Cecilia said, inclining her head politely. Her voice was smooth, with a slight edge I'd come to recognize. She turned to me. "Arthur, mind if I borrow you for a moment? There's something I'd like to discuss." Rachel's smile remained, but the edges tightened. She stepped aside gracefully, saying, "Of course. I'll chat with Aria for a bit," and left me with an almost imperceptible nod. I faced Cecilia, arching a brow. "Discuss what exactly?" She waved a slender hand dismissively, her eyes flicking to Rachel's retreating form for a second. "Nothing ominous, I promise," she said, letting out a breathy laugh. "Just a conversation about… you." Her smirk softened. "Or rather, about how I might help you. If you'd let me." Curiosity warred with caution in my chest. My prior impressions of Cecilia were primarily shaped by her manipulative tendencies—cool, cunning, sometimes borderline dangerous. But tonight, there was a gentler edge to her. I wasn't sure if it was genuine or just another tactic. She led me to a side balcony that jutted from the estate's second floor, accessible by a short hallway lined with tasteful modern-art sculptures. A series of small anti-gravity lanterns floated overhead, casting pale, ethereal light. The hush out here contrasted sharply with the party's vibrant murmur inside. The hum of the party faded as the glass door slid shut behind us, muffling the laughter, music, and clinking of glasses from the Creighton estate's grand hall. The air on the balcony was crisp, touched with the faint scent of luminescent flora from the sprawling gardens below. Hovering anti-gravity lanterns bathed the scene in a pale, dreamy glow, their light making Cecilia's crimson dress shimmer like a living flame. She leaned against the rail, her eyes fixed on the horizon, where the neon outlines of the city met the distant curve of the night sky. For a moment, she didn't speak, and I wondered if I'd walked into some elaborate ploy—a prelude to a game she'd already won in her head. But her silence lingered, almost contemplative, and when she finally turned her gaze to me, there was no slyness in her expression. It caught me off guard, that openness. Subtle, yes, but genuine in a way I hadn't expected. "You're a difficult one to pin down, Arthur," she said softly, the faintest hint of a smile tugging at her lips. "It's frustrating." I tilted my head, unsure how to respond. "I'd say the same about you." She huffed a quiet laugh, her eyes flicking back to the garden. "Fair enough. But it's not the same, is it? I'm supposed to be predictable, at least to you. Manipulative Cecilia, the girl with a plan for everything. The one who makes you second-guess every word she says." She paused, her fingers brushing the smooth metal of the railing. "And yet, here I am. No scheme. No angle. Just… me." The words hung in the air, and I stared at her, trying to reconcile this version of Cecilia with the one I thought I knew. She met my gaze, her ruby eyes steady, unreadable yet lacking their usual sharpness. "I don't expect you to believe that," she added, her voice quieter now, almost self-deprecating. "You shouldn't. Honestly, I don't think I'd trust me either." "Then why bother?" I asked, my tone cautious but curious. "If you don't expect me to trust you, why bring me out here at all?" Her smile returned, faint but wry. "Because sometimes, even I get tired of the game. Of having to prove myself cleverer than everyone else in the room just to stay ahead. And you… you're different. You don't play the same way the rest of us do. You don't see people as tools or obstacles or rivals to crush. It's… irritating, actually." "Irritating?" I echoed, caught between disbelief and a flicker of amusement. "Infuriating," she corrected, her smile widening slightly. "You should be easy to read, Arthur. A commoner thrust into a world of prodigies and royals, desperate to claw your way up. But instead, you play by your own rules, and somehow, it works. You've made me question things I didn't think I needed to question. And I hate that." I blinked, stunned into silence. That was… not what I expected her to say. At all. I searched her face for the usual signs of manipulation, the subtle tells that hinted at ulterior motives. But there was nothing. Just Cecilia, standing there, speaking words that felt both calculated and strangely unguarded. She turned back to the railing, her fingers tracing idle patterns against the cool metal. "You're the type to carry everything on your shoulders, aren't you? All that weight, all those expectations, and yet you never ask for help. It's admirable in a way, but also incredibly stupid." I bristled slightly at the jab, but before I could respond, she glanced at me again, her expression softening. "I'm not offering to make things easier for you. That's not who I am. But maybe… maybe I don't want to stand in your way, either. For once." S~eaʀᴄh the NôᴠelFirё.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. It hit me then, the careful dance in her words. She wasn't outright saying she'd changed, or that she wouldn't use her usual tactics. She wasn't promising anything. But beneath the layers of ambiguity, there was a thread of something real. Something vulnerable. And that scared me more than any scheme she could've cooked up. "Why now?" I asked, my voice quieter than I intended. She shrugged, her gaze dropping to the gardens below. "Let's just say… I've realized some things don't need to be bent or broken to be worth something. And not everything needs to be a battle." She straightened, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. "Besides, you're entertaining enough as it is. No point in ruining that, right?" Her smirk returned, faint and fleeting, but it didn't carry the same edge it usually did. It was softer, almost… genuine. I didn't know how to respond, so I didn't. We stood there for a moment longer, the silence between us filled only by the distant hum of music from inside. Finally, Cecilia pushed off the railing, her movements fluid and graceful. "We should head back before Rachel starts worrying. She'll assume I've kidnapped you or something." She stepped past me, pausing briefly by the door. "Oh, and Arthur?" I turned, meeting her gaze. She hesitated, just for a fraction of a second, before murmuring, "For what it's worth, you're not as alone as you think." And then she was gone, the glass door sliding shut behind her, leaving me alone with the faint echoes of her words. I stared after her, my mind racing to process what had just happened. Cecilia Slatemark, the girl I'd pegged as manipulative and self-serving, had just shown me a side of herself I wasn't sure even she fully understood. It wasn't an outright transformation—no sudden declarations of loyalty or promises to change. But it was enough to make me pause. Enough to make me wonder. People, I reminded myself, could surprise you. Even the ones you thought you knew best.

Chapter 95 New Year's Party (3)

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