Primordial Heir: Nine Stars

Azalea rolled high twice in a row, earning the right to give drinks instead of taking them. She handed one each to Adam and Blake with an evil glint in her eye.

Adam took his like a man. Blake whimpered dramatically, clutching his chest. ”This is bullying! I’ll write a letter to the Emperor.”

”Go ahead,” Khione said dryly, finally joining in with a faint smile. ”Maybe he’ll laugh too.”

That earned a ripple of laughter around the table.

But amid the chaos, Nero and Khione found themselves at the edge of the group, plates balanced on their laps. Their glasses touched once, twice, in quiet toasts no one else noticed.

”How is it?” Nero asked softly, nodding toward the food.

Khione tilted her head, strands of silver hair catching the firelight. ”Better than I expected. Lux’s cook has skill.”

”You hardly ate at dinner,” he observed.

She gave a small shrug. ”Not hungry then. Tonight... I am.”

Her words carried no obvious weight, but Nero caught the subtle shift in her tone, the way her eyes lingered on the fire as if speaking to it instead of him. For someone who built walls of frost around her heart, even such small honesty was like a crack in the ice.

He didn’t push. Instead, he offered her another skewer, their fingers brushing for a heartbeat too long. Neither acknowledged it, but both felt it.

Meanwhile, Blake was still suffering. He had rolled another low number and was now wobbling in his seat, cheeks flushed.

”I’m... cursed,” he muttered. ”That’s the only explanation.”

Adam slapped him on the back so hard he nearly fell forward. ”Cursed by the god of laziness himself!”

The group erupted into laughter again, the kind that echoed against the villa walls and carried into the warm summer night.

As the game wore on and cups emptied, the chaos softened. Laughter gave way to small conversations, teasing gave way to yawns. Even Elreth, who had spent half the night throwing smug looks at Khione, leaned back with her arms crossed, eyes half-closed from the wine.

Nero glanced at Khione one last time. Her cheeks were faintly flushed, but her eyes were clear as ever—icy, yes, but softer than when he’d first met her.

”Tomorrow will be noisy,” she said, almost to herself.

”Then let’s enjoy tonight,” Nero replied.

She didn’t answer, but she didn’t need to. The faint curve of her lips was enough.

And so, under the stars, with fire crackling, wine flowing, and laughter lingering in the air, the night drifted on—half comedy, half quiet revelation.

Out of nowhere, an idea struck Nero — one that had its roots in their pocket-world gamble. One of the rewards for the victor had been the right to challenge the others, a small, private contest meant more for rivalry than glory. He remembered it now and saw how useful it could be.

He leaned toward Khione, closing the distance until the heat from his body brushed hers. His voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper that only she could hear.

”Let’s meet around midnight for a little game.”

The proximity was charged. The warmth from him skated across her skin, and the Ice Queen, so accustomed to composure, felt an involuntary tremor. Goosebumps rose along her arms; her pulse thudded faster for a single, disorienting moment. Still, she didn’t pull away. Instead she inclined her head and answered with the same clipped calm she wore like armor.

”Sure.”

She didn’t know what he had in mind — and yet, for reasons she couldn’t name, she trusted that she would enjoy it.

At that precise moment Elreth happened to glance their way. She saw the small exchange — the lean, the whisper, the nod — and something in her hardened. Her fingers clenched until the knuckles whitened; a cold, sharp annoyance flickered across her face. The evening’s easy amusement curdled into a quiet sourness.

Azalea, quick-eyed and never one to miss a cue, caught Elreth’s change and followed her gaze. Her lips pressed into a thin line. She’d disliked Nero from their first meeting: something in him unsettled her, as if he could strip away polite façades. Now, watching him draw Khione into a private pact, that dislike hardened into something darker and sharper.

She narrowed her eyes and made a small, silent vow — not loud enough for others to hear, but clear as a blade in her own mind. Nero had made a target of himself. Someday soon, she decided, she would see to it that he regretted crossing her, making her friend so troubled. It would be good to snatch things from them. This is the real reason, she is two faced bitch after all.

Lux, ever quick to sense a change in mood, caught the subtle tension brewing among them. Without missing a beat, he clapped his hands lightly and proposed a diversion, steering the atmosphere back toward something more playful.

”How about we spice things up with a little competition? Two representatives from the boys, and two from the girls,” he suggested with a grin.

After a brief exchange of glances, Nero and Adam were chosen to represent the boys. On the girls’ side, Elreth and Azalea stepped forward.

The moment Azalea and Adam’s eyes met, sparks practically flew. Their mutual glare carried the weight of long-standing annoyance, each refusing to back down even in a casual game.

Finally, it was Azalea who spoke first, her tone firm. ”Let’s start with Midnight Pool.”

A murmur of agreement followed, the rules quickly established: the winners would be granted a request from the losers. Nothing outrageous, of course — it had to remain within the bounds of reason. Still, everyone knew that with this particular group, even a ”reasonable” request could prove to be anything but ordinary.

Both of them, being naturally skilled and fiercely competitive, leaned into the Midnight Pool match with everything they had. The air around the table grew taut as the clack of balls echoed through the vineyard’s quiet night, each shot sharp and precise.