Daniel
The sun hung low as if ordered to pause for the occasion, casting a golden wash over the Li estate's upper courtyard. Everything gleamed—marble walkways, silk banners, ornamental trees flowering out of season from enchanted pots. Even the air shimmered, thick with residual magic and ceremony.
Tradition dictated that both noble couples depart at the same time, side by side, their processions rolling out as a public gesture of mutual alliance and family elevation. But no one was fooled. This wasn't about ceremony.
This was a stage.
A floating projection orb hovered high above the courtyard, twin images displayed in sync—Caleb and Claire on one side, Daniel and Vivian on the other.
Daniel stood beside Vivian beneath the final archway, watching the projection flicker and stabilize. His breath remained steady, posture perfect, face unreadable. Internally, he was trying to ignore the low throb of tension beneath his sternum—and the voice in his head.
"This is when he comes over," Ethan muttered.
Daniel didn't respond.
Sure enough, a moment later, Caleb Zhou crossed the distance with his ever-charming gait, one arm loosely looped around Claire Wang's waist.
Caleb's white ceremonial robe fluttered slightly as if reacting to applause. His smile was warm, his tone just soft enough to carry intimacy to the ears of every noble watching.
"Little brother," he said smoothly, voice pitched to feigned guilt, "please forgive me for the wrongs I've done you. I was… foolish. I never meant to take what was yours. I simply… fell in love."
He said it with the sincerity of a professional actor on his tenth flawless take.
Claire, pressed into his side, looked radiant. Her eyes sparkled as she glanced up at Caleb, her posture glowing with the kind of pride reserved for those who think they've won something valuable.
Daniel didn't blink.
He gave Caleb a shallow nod. Not cold. Not warm. Just… acknowledgment.
Vivian didn't move.
"He's such a goddamn snake," Ethan seethed. "I should've gutted him the first time. Just a quick flick under the ribs. Done."
Daniel kept his lips closed. He didn't trust himself to not say something.
Claire smiled directly at him now—not with warmth, but with something between pity and satisfaction. Like a woman who had tested two wines and picked the fruitier one, and now wanted to make sure the vintner of the rejected bottle saw her toast.
"I hope you'll be happy, Ethan," she said sweetly.
Vivian's gaze didn't shift.
Daniel gave Claire the same nod. Not indulgent. Not dismissive. Just… acknowledgment.
"They're perfect for each other," Ethan whispered. "Both hollow. Both shiny. Someone should bottle their ego and sell it as a curse."
Daniel tried not to laugh and was grateful when the trumpets blew.
A pair of golden carriages emerged from opposite wings of the estate.
Claire and Caleb's vehicle came first—a floating platform with serpent-wing contours and a crystalline canopy. The bronze filigree caught the light just enough to look expensive from a distance, and the pearl accents were more decorative than rare. It hovered low and sleek, trying hard to look elite. Stylish. Flashy. But to Daniel, it was the noble equivalent of a well-polished magical Kia—quick, modern, and just convincing enough for those who didn't know better.
The crowd murmured approval. Some even clapped lightly.
Then came Daniel and Vivian's carriage.
It didn't glide—it loomed.
Enchanted gold trim framed lacquered black wood, the sigils carved so finely into the wheels they pulsed with layered mana. The canopy was reinforced glass with cascading wards that shimmered like water on a windowpane.
It didn't look fast.
It looked final.
The Li family didn't ride to power. They rode with the expectation that power followed.
Daniel could feel the shift in the audience. The difference in status was not just visible. It was felt.
Claire and Caleb were newsworthy.
Vivian and Daniel were inevitable.
As attendants opened the door to the larger carriage, Daniel turned his head slightly.
"After you," he murmured.
Vivian didn't respond. She stepped inside without a word.
Daniel followed.
The doors closed behind them with a whisper.
The inside of the carriage was quieter than any room Daniel had ever been in.
No engine hum. No air rushing past. Just the faintest creak of enchanted wood as it lifted into the air—silent, steady, and slow.
He didn't sit immediately. He watched as Vivian Li crossed the carriage without hesitation and took the forward-facing seat. She didn't smooth her dress. She didn't glance at him. She simply sat—like a queen in an unwanted chariot—and stared out the glass canopy at the endless clouds above.
Daniel took the seat across from her without a word.
Neither of them spoke.
Beyond the glass-paneled carriage walls, the wedding palace disappeared into a haze of cloud and distance. The sky darkened as they passed through layered mana wards—each one stripping away sound, projection, and scrutiny. Even the floating orbs that had recorded their every breath winked out one by one.
The performance was over.
What remained was silence—and the long flight toward the Li estate, where politics sharpened into something far more personal.
"She's not going to speak first," Ethan said immediately. "She never does. Cold silence is a power play. Makes you crack first."
Daniel said nothing.
"This woman's mastered the weaponized pause. She once made a merchant prince piss himself just by not responding to his proposal."
Still nothing.
"She's judging you already. I bet she's got a mental list of reasons why your posture isn't noble enough."
Daniel leaned slightly back. Not slouching—just relaxed.
Vivian didn't flinch.
She stared out the carriage window for a long moment, her expression unreadable—calm, composed, and almost too still. Not disinterested. Not hostile. Just... unavailable. Like someone waiting out a conversation she had no intention of joining.
Then, without ceremony, she reached into the inner fold of her sleeve and pulled out a small message crystal—sleek and faintly glowing with muted pulse-light. She tapped it once, checked something, then slid it back into place. Not urgent. Not secretive. Just habitual.
It was the fourth time since they'd left for the estate.
Daniel watched her, silently cataloging the rhythm. She didn't seem anxious. If anything, she looked annoyed by the silence, but too proud to break it. Or maybe too practiced.
She was used to control. Used to being the one who set the tone.
And now, married to a man she hadn't chosen, she was recalibrating her footing in real time.
Daniel offered her nothing—no words, no gestures. Just presence.
Across from him, she checked the crystal again.
A half-second longer this time.
And still, she didn't speak.