Primordial Heir: Nine Stars

The villa’s grand dining hall glowed with golden light. Chandeliers swayed gently above a long mahogany table already prepared with gleaming silverware, wine bottles glinting, and an array of dishes steaming under silver lids. Servants moved swiftly, placing the last of the roasted meats and delicacies as the group entered.

Lux, ever the gentleman host, guided Elreth to the head of the table, opposite himself, while Azalea and Khione naturally settled beside her. The boys took their seats opposite the three, forming a clean line of unspoken rivalries and alliances across the table.

Blake slumped into his chair as though dragged by chains, chin already propped on his palm.

”Wake me up when the food comes,” he mumbled.

”You’ll choke before you even taste anything if you doze off like that,” Adam muttered, rolling his eyes.

The princess arched a brow but said nothing, though the faintest smirk tugged her lips. She had expected Blake’s laziness—it was practically his trademark.

The first dishes arrived—platters of roasted duck, seasoned lamb, trays of steaming vegetables, fresh bread, and rich gravies. Lux raised his glass, his smile charming.

”A toast,” he declared smoothly, voice commanding just enough to draw everyone’s attention. ”To summer break, new bonds, and—” his eyes flicked with amusement toward Blake, ”to those who would rather be anywhere else.”

Everyone chuckled softly. Blake groaned.

”You’re all parasites.”

Khione’s lips quirked in the faintest of smiles, quickly hidden as she raised her glass. Nero, silent as ever, mirrored her, the brief glance they exchanged unnoticed by none.

Elreth’s smile stiffened. She clinked her glass with the others but leaned back, scarlet eyes narrowing faintly. Closer and closer, I see...

Dinner unfolded with its own rhythm. Lux, eloquent as always, kept the conversation flowing with well-placed anecdotes. Azalea countered him with sharp, witty remarks that made Adam grind his teeth every time she spoke.

When Azalea complimented the roast—”Not bad, considering human chefs”—Adam immediately snapped, ”Your standards are as inflated as your ego.”

Azalea’s golden brows arched dangerously.

”Better inflated than nonexistent.”

The two glared at each other across the table, forks clenched like daggers. Lux sighed, sipping his wine like a weary father watching two unruly children.

Meanwhile, Blake had somehow dozed off upright, fork still in hand. A roasted carrot dangled precariously from the prongs.

Elreth cleared her throat softly, eyes sliding toward Nero.

”How goes your training?” she asked, her tone smooth, but beneath it lingered a subtle possessiveness, a reminder to all that she was watching him closely.

Nero replied calmly, ”Steady. Progress comes with patience.” His ominous looking red eyes flicked to Khione again, and though he said no more, Khione nodded slightly, her cool eyes reflecting a wordless acknowledgment.

Elreth’s wine glass creaked faintly under her grip. She smiled all the same. ”Good. Progress... must not be wasted.”

Lux noticed the sparks but steered the talk elsewhere before the tension turned sharp enough to cut the table in two.

”Elreth,” he said smoothly, ”you must allow me to show you the new vineyard the villa acquired. The wine from it should rival the empire’s finest within a decade.”

”I’ll hold you to that,” Elreth replied, finally looking away from Nero.

Dinner descended into a blend of warmth, tension, and hilarity. Blake eventually woke when a servant nudged him, only to shovel food onto his plate with the reflex of a starving beast. Lux pinched the bridge of his nose in despair.

”Why do you eat like you’ve been locked in a dungeon?” Azalea muttered.

”Because I’ve been tortured for hours with cards and alcohol,” Blake shot back between bites.

Khione, surprisingly, let a tiny laugh escape—soft, crystalline, gone in an instant. Everyone froze for a heartbeat, stunned.

Elreth’s eyes narrowed. She laughs now too?

The storm of rivalries swirled again.

By the time dessert arrived—silken puddings, sugared fruits, and delicate pastries—the group had splintered into their usual antics:

Lux gracefully managing the table like a king on his throne.

Elreth silently plotting how to pull Nero closer before Khione could.

Azalea and Adam locked in a glaring contest so intense the puddings trembled between them.

Blake attempting to stack spoons on his nose out of sheer boredom.

”Pathetic,” Adam muttered at him.

Blake shot him a lazy grin. ”Better pathetic than eternally single.”

Adam slammed his fork down. Azalea almost choked on her wine laughing, though she immediately covered it with a cough. Adam glared harder.

The servants looked on nervously, but Lux merely leaned back, eyes half-closed in amusement. To him, this chaotic blend of comedy, rivalry, and dangerous sparks was exactly what made life at the villa interesting.

The evening wore on, but one truth was clear: though they sat at the same table, the undercurrents between them promised future storms—some comedic, some inevitable.

The sun had long dipped below the horizon, and the first stars began to pierce the twilight as the villa’s great doors opened once more. Cool evening air swept inside, scented faintly with earth and distant grapes ripening under the fading summer heat.

Lux guided the group, his silver hair glowing under the lamplights

”This way,” he said warmly, gesturing toward the path that led down the slope. ”The vineyard is most alive at dusk—when the vines whisper with the day’s last breath.”

Blake yawned so wide it seemed he’d swallow the night itself. ”Do vines whisper about sleep? Because that’s the only thing I’m hearing.”

Adam cuffed the back of his head as he passed. ”Keep whining and I’ll bury you in the soil myself.”

The group followed Lux nonetheless, their footsteps crunching along the gravel path. Lamplights had already been lit at intervals along the vineyard’s rows, bathing the vines in a golden glow. Lush green leaves stretched endlessly, dew beginning to settle, while clusters of grapes glimmered like tiny jewels under the lantern light.

It was serene—at least, until the dynamics began to unfold.

Elreth, had naturally taken her place at the front beside Lux. Azalea trailed slightly behind, smirking at Adam every time he tried to walk ahead of her, only to cut him off with casual precision. The knight’s jaw twitched with barely suppressed irritation.

But what drew Elreth’s eyes—no, her attention—was not Lux’s cultured commentary about soil quality or harvest cycles. It was Nero.

The dark blue haired young man walked at a steady pace just behind her, his hands folded casually behind his back. Beside him was Khione, calm and elegant, her voice low but audible in the quiet.

”...I still find it strange,” Khione murmured, eyes fixed on the lamplight glow ahead, ”how people shape such lands with patience instead of power.”

Nero gave a faint hum, almost approving.

”Patience is a power of its own. What grows from the earth slowly often lasts longer than anything forged in fire.”

Khione’s lips curved ever so slightly—an expression rarer than moonlight. ”A fair point.”

Elreth, overhearing, nearly bit through her wine-softened smile. Her orange eyes flicked sharply toward them, irritation hidden beneath regal poise. When did this happen? Since when does she share words so freely with him? Was because the three days spent in the pocket world?

Her fingers clenched at her gown for half a heartbeat before she released it, smoothing her skirts as though nothing were amiss.

Azalea, ever the hawk for tension, noticed. She smirked, whispered low enough only for Adam to hear: ”Looks like someone doesn’t like competition.”

Adam scowled, muttering back, ”Shut your mouth before I shove you into a barrel.”

Meanwhile, Blake had lagged behind, trailing a good ten steps from the group. He stared at the rows of grapes with a critical squint, then plucked one straight from the vine and popped it into his mouth.

”Sweet,” he muttered, grabbing another, and another. By the time anyone noticed, his cheeks were stuffed like a squirrel’s.

Lux turned his head with impeccable timing. ”...Those grapes are for fermentation, Blake.”

Blake shrugged, juice dribbling down his chin. ”Consider it a quality test.”

The group collectively sighed.

They reached the heart of the vineyard, where a circular stone terrace overlooked the endless rows of vines cascading down the slope. A small fountain burbled at its center, surrounded by marble benches. Lanterns hung from iron hooks, painting everything in soft amber light.

Lux spread his arms theatrically. ”Here it is—the jewel of this villa. Every glass of wine you tasted at dinner began here, in this soil. Even the princess herself must admit the view is... worth savoring.”

Elreth tilted her head, eyes momentarily leaving Nero and Khione to take in the endless fields glittering like a sea under starlight. She allowed herself a small nod. ”It is... acceptable.”

”Acceptable?” Lux laughed softly. ”High praise from you, Princess.”

Adam crossed his arms, unimpressed.

”Looks like plants to me.”

Azalea smirked, poking his arm with a nail.

”That’s because you’ve no culture. Try not to break anything, hammer boy.”

”I’ll break you,” Adam growled.

Blake, now seated lazily on the fountain’s edge, waved dismissively. ”Both of you shut up, I’m trying to enjoy my grapes.”

”You’re eating the vineyard,” Lux said, massaging his temples.

The air was filled with banter, laughter, and hidden glares—an evening painted with contrasts. Lux’s elegance, Adam and Azalea’s bickering, Blake’s shameless laziness, Elreth’s veiled jealousy, Khione’s rare composure, and Nero’s quiet strength.

Yet, beneath it all, the sparks were undeniable. The vineyard was peaceful on the surface, but invisible currents of rivalry and tension twisted through every step, every word, every glance.

And though the night seemed lighthearted, each of them knew—whether from ambition, pride, or desire—that this was only the calm before the storm of what awaited in the days to come.