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“Elliot, seriously,” Charlotte demanded, trying to catch up with Elliot who was walking so fast. “First off, stop walking so fast.”

Elliot stopped, twirling his body to face the maid. “I shouldn’t slack off, now, should I?” he grinned mischievously.

As soon as she caught up with the young master, Charlotte stopped her steps; panting as she was practically running. “Walking fast and slacking off are two different things,” she hissed and darted her glare to her childhood friend.

“Walking fast saves more time.”

“For Goddess’ sake, Elliot,” Charlotte rolled her eyes, crossing her hands in front of her chest—which Elliot responded with a snicker, though he said nothing more. Charlotte stomped to stand next to the taller boy, tilting her head up to meet his eyes. “I’m warning you, Elliot.”

Elliot cocked his eyebrows, gesturing Charlotte to continue.

“You should not get close to that devil,” she warned.

“That devil?”

“That guy,” Charlotte huffed in frustration. “He almost killed you, and now you’re all buddy-buddy with him?”

Elliot waved his hand dismissively. “Almost, that’s the keyword. It’s not like he killed me.”

“If he had killed you, you wouldn’t be here saying that nonsense,” Charlotte hissed.

“He isn’t as dangerous as you make it to be,” Elliot spun, shrugging dismissively. “Now, if you’d excuse me.”

Charlotte bit her lip; frustrated and humiliated. She wished that Elliot would turn around, apologizing for his dismissive words—but he did not. He sauntered away as if nothing had happened.

She clenched her fists; anger flowed from within her. Elliot had changed—all because of some stranger. A murderer—even worse.

And yet he covered for him as though he was a saint sent from Heaven.

Charlotte wanted to turn and walk away—but she had her duty to be done. So, swallowing the bitter lumps in her throat, she stomped past Elliot; away to her destination while keeping silent. She did not want anything to do with him right now.

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In Praesidio, the dining hall in each mansion was occasionally used to hold a banquet; especially ones held when one heir had undergone the Ritual of Purification. In today’s case, the dining hall in the mansion of Alskar.

That was Elliot’s schedule for tonight—a banquet to welcome the new heir of Alskar to the Praesidio, introducing the newly acknowledged son to the other Praesidio heads.

Although the banquet would be held after dusk, the preparation had started since dawn. It was always a grand event—the time where the heads of Praesidio could formally meet the heir of another. Extravagant three-course meals would be served; exquisite drinks would be toasted for the newly acknowledged heir.

Though, to be honest, Elliot did not see any point in such event. He bet all his money that he would not be the star of the show as promised. The older folks would end up talking to themselves, and Elliot would just sit down silently like a trophy at the end of the table, with no one else to talk to.

Elliot found Charlotte standing in front of the dining hall. The dinner would not start until later, but he had to prepare himself. After all, he still had to present himself the best.

Charlotte—though her eyes still coldly piercing him—opened the door and curtsied, welcoming Elliot to the dining hall.

Elliot stepped in, noticing the dining hall was exceptionally posh today. He eyed the seats lining up around the table, finding one was at the end of the table. Must be his. Though, right now, Henrique was sitting there. The elder looked up immediately when Elliot came in, standing up to welcome his own son.

“My son,” he greeted, approaching the young boy. He guided his son to the nearest seat, and they settled side by side.

Elliot gave a polite nod. “Father,” he acknowledged. “Whatever it is you are preparing me for?”

“I must ask, how are you feeling today?” Henrique gave a fatherly smile, observing Elliot’s expression proudly.

“I... am nervous, indeed,” Elliot admitted, clenching his palms together. “I shall listen to whatever guide you give me, Father, for you are the wise one.”

Henrique nodded once, then averting his gaze to the empty seats all around them. “My son, you are the Chosen One,” he stated the obvious. “I am sure you are eager to announce to the Praesidio—that you are, in fact, the Chosen One.”

Elliot did not respond. He let his Father led the conversation. To be honest, he was not interested in ‘the Chosen One’ shenanigans and whatnot, but he did not feel the need to clear anything up.

“A grand role—given by Goddess,” Henrique let out a soft sigh. “Indeed, it is best to let them know, for it is the Praesidio’s will to keep the world together.”

Elliot nodded in agreement, unsure where the conversation was going.

“However, Elliot, I shall ask for you one thing,” Henrique turned to meet his son’s eyes. Straight without hesitation, Henrique order, “You shall not reveal to anyone—that you are the Chosen One. Not even to Praesidio.”

Elliot froze; his mind tried to proceed the words that had been thrown at his face. “What... do you mean... Father...?” he asked, hesitation thick in his voice.

“Not the Queen, not the heads of Praesidio,” Henrique repeated, shaking his head exasperatedly. “For I fear that there is someone who aims for your head among the Praesidio.”

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