The grand hall of the Weton Royal Palace was silent save for the soft tap of polished boots against marble. Flickering torchlight danced over towering pillars and crimson drapes, casting long shadows like living things stretching into the dusk.
Keal stood beneath the vaulted ceiling, his posture rigid but controlled. His hair, once black as night, now gleamed white—a mask forged by a dead Magnus' silent spell. A thin black veil partially obscured his face, guarding his identity from prying eyes.
He was a stranger here—an unknown presence in the heart of Weton's royal power.
Before him, seated with regal poise, was Zackline Zel Zeheir, the Zeheir royal clan's fierce general. Her hair was the dark-white of storm clouds laced with moonlight, cascading like liquid shadow and snow. Her piercing eyes—gifted with the legendary Eyes of All—surveyed Keal coolly.
"You appear without introduction, without reference," she said softly, her voice sharp yet smooth. "Why should I allow you into this palace?"
Keal inclined his head respectfully. "I seek only temporary employment, my lady. I am between places."
Zackline's gaze intensified. With a subtle flick of her fingers, she invoked her Eyes of All, a magic of high rank that pierced the surface to reveal truths hidden deep within.
Time seemed to slow as her eyes glowed golden, peering into Keal's very soul.
Then darkness erupted.
An endless whirlpool of shadows—alive and swirling—rose from his aura, twining like spectral serpents hungry to consume.
Zackline gasped and drew back, startled.
"An abyss… bound to you," she whispered, almost to herself.
Inside Keal's mind, the oldest shadow stirred, a cold voice warning.
{She sees the darkness within. Be cautious.}
Keal felt a faint flush creep up his neck. For the first time since arriving, he felt the warmth of embarrassment. His eyes, the right glowing fierce red, the left shimmering purple from the shadow's influence, flickered in hesitation.
That blush wasn't lost on Zackline. Something about the usually unreadable figure intrigued her deeply.
"I find your presence... useful," she said, voice steady but laced with curiosity. "You will serve as personal butler to the royal princes."
---
Later, in the grand quarters of the second prince, Keal found himself standing awkwardly while a young man lounged on silken cushions, a lazy grin playing on his lips.
Zack was nineteen—handsome, charming, and a little roguish, with unruly brown hair curling over mischievous eyes.
"So, this is the famous new butler," Zack teased, narrowing his eyes playfully. "You look like you could use some fun, huh?"
Keal's lips twitched at the remark, but he said nothing.
Zack chuckled and leaned forward, eyes sparkling. "Come on, loosen up. I'm not gonna bite."
Despite his usual calm, Keal felt his cheeks warm again—a small crack in his steely composure.
"I keep to my duties," Keal said quietly, voice steady.
Zack smirked, amused. "Well, duty's boring. I'll make sure you see the bright side of palace life."
---
That night, as Keal lay in his modest guest room, shadows shifted beneath his skin, whispering ancient secrets.
{Zackline is dangerous—more than just a general. Her sight nearly unraveled our pact.}
{Maintain the veil. We have much to learn here.}
Keal's fingers brushed the faint glowing symbol on his hand—the mark of the system, faint beneath his glove.
He gazed out his window toward the sprawling city of Weton, silent beneath the starlight.
---
Meanwhile, Zack paced his chambers, amused by the new arrival.
"He's stiff, serious... but there's something about him," Zack muttered, swirling wine in his glass. "I'll get him to smile yet."
A sly grin crossed his face as he planned how to pry open the enigma that was Keal.
The sun hung low over Weton Palace, casting a mellow golden hue across its ivory stone walls. The vast courtyards brimmed with life—guards patrolled, servants hustled, and noble-blooded figures moved with calculated grace. Yet, none noticed the boy in white silently walking beside the Second Prince's flamboyant laughter.
Keal adjusted the white veil masking the lower half of his face, suppressing the urge to sigh. His snow-colored hair gleamed in the light, his crimson right eye and faintly glowing violet left one hidden beneath his long bangs. No one in the palace had yet guessed that Keal was the infamous Crazed Destroyer—the boy who turned the northern city of Noctera to ash.
No one, except maybe her.
Zackline Zeh Zeheir—princess, commander, and the woman whose gaze seemed to cut through souls—had yet to speak again about what she saw that day during her interrogation. But Keal had seen it, that glint of unease in her shimmering ash-white eyes when her skill Eyes of All had failed to read him.
She'd seen the shadows swirling beneath.
Zack, meanwhile, remained blissfully ignorant.
"Come on, Keal! You walk like you're preparing to stab someone," Zack said, laughing as he tossed a grape into his mouth. "Lighten up! You're my personal butler now—you've gotta match my vibe!"
Keal ignored the prince's antics, prompting another chuckle. Zack leaned closer, nudging his shoulder.
"You know," he grinned, "you're weird. But that veil... kinda cool."
Keal finally glanced his way, eyes briefly glowing beneath the shadow of his hood. "You're loud," he said flatly.
Zack blinked. Then burst into laughter. "See? You do talk!"
Shadow Eyes activated subtly, analyzing Zack's presence. Emotion: amusement. Hidden: relief, caution. There was more. Something coiled inside him—Void. A Rare-ranked ability. It was faint, carefully sealed.
Keal's gaze narrowed.
"You're hiding something."
Zack's smile faltered for a second before returning with a shrug. "Aren't we all?"
He turned and waved toward a tall figure approaching from the garden archways. "Oh hey, that's my big brother. You'll love him."
Keal turned slowly, sensing a colder presence.
First Prince Zehron Zeheir.
He was taller, sharply dressed in black and silver, with ocean-blue eyes and an expression carved from frost. His hair was swept back, neat, his stride calculated. Every step screamed control. Power. Expectation.
Keal's instincts flared.
Zack's voice dropped slightly. "Ignore the constant scowl. He's not chosen by the system. People talk, call us 'Zellene's Mistake'. He hears it. All of it."
Keal didn't respond.
Zehron's gaze landed on him with the weight of an avalanche.
"This is the new butler?" Zehron asked dryly. "You're hiring strangers again, Zack?"
"He's not just a stranger," Zack smirked. "He's Keal. Coolest guy I've met this week."
Zehron's eyes narrowed, lingering on the veil. "We'll see how long he lasts."
Keal met his gaze unflinchingly. "I don't break."
Zehron's expression shifted—barely. Just a flicker. Then he walked past them without another word.
Zack leaned in. "He's just jealous of my luck. You're strong, right?"
"Strong enough."
They returned to the prince's tower.
As they left the garden, Zack turned toward him. "You saw it, didn't you?"
Keal didn't respond.
Zack grinned. "Don't worry. I trust you."
Keal was silent. But something in Zack's tone... it wasn't all play. Behind the smiles and teasing, there was thought. Cunning.
Keal didn't dislike it. Even if it annoyed him.
Later that evening, as Keal stood at the window of the servant quarters, staring out across the Weton skyline, he replayed the day's events.
The veil he wore wasn't just for disguise—it was a symbol. A barrier between him and the world. Between Kev, the Crazed Lunatic, and Keal, the quiet butler.
But even now, he could feel eyes on him.
Somewhere in the palace...
Someone was watching.