Thunderstorm
"You interfered."
The Attack
The guards reacted late. The Minister was already far closer to the Princess than any of them.
"Aaaah—!"
Etienne charged like a bull in a thunderstorm, breath ragged, face mottled red with alcohol and rage.
Medea watched him come.
Calmly.
A small hand folded her fan and adjusted her grip on the steel tip, aligning it with his solar plexus.
Now.
"DIE!"
he screamed.
Medea did not flinch.
Her fan tensed in her grip—steel ribs humming faintly.
The strike she was about to make would have stopped him cold—
a single, precise blow to the solar plexus,
and the toad's roar would have died in his throat.
Then—
iron moved.
Her body lifted, weightless.
Cesare had scooped her out of the line of impact as easily as one might pluck a leaf from a stream.
In a single, fluid motion he pivoted, using his hip to twist Etienne's charge off-line.
As he turned, his long, straight leg snapped out—
his boot crushed down on the Minister's thick ankle.
Etienne stumbled with a strangled grunt.
Momentum did the rest.
His path buckled—
balance lost—
and, by the smallest margin, his new trajectory aimed directly at Birna Claudio.
The Wreckage
Only minutes before, Birna had been happily watching the mad Minister lash out at her cousin.
Now, thrown off balance, Etienne lurched straight toward her cluster of ladies.
"He's coming this way!"
"Move, quickly!"
There were no obstacles left between them.
While everyone scattered in panic, a heel found the edge of Birna's silver train.
"My dress!"
She froze at the ear-splitting sound—
Rrrrip.
A vast shadow swallowed her.
"Lady Birna—!"
The Minister's enormous body slammed into her, his feral momentum unstoppable.
They skidded together into the refreshments table at the far end.
The table collapsed under their combined weight. Platters and crystal launched into the air like startled birds.
towering crystal chimneys toppled,
cakes folded in on themselves in collapsing layers of cream,
wine burst in arcs, spattering the floor like fresh blood.
Birna lay under the wreckage, drenched in syrup, wine, and shame.
Her diamond-dusted dress turned to shredded ribbons, the carefully tailored lines torn open. Her hair, once perfectly pinned, hung sticky and tangled, dripping juice.
"Ahhh! My dress—what is this?!"
Her friends reached for her in horror.
"Lady Birna, your clothes—"
The Minister, however, refused to let her go.
In the struggle, the weakened hem of the gown gave way completely. A shocking chill swept up Birna's legs as the skirt tore free.
"Oh no—!"
No one present could tolerate the Minister's behavior any longer.
"Birna! Minister, get away from my sister!"
Samon charged in, face twisted with disgust and outrage.
But instead of rescuing her, he, too, found himself ensnared in the Minister's deranged grasp.
"Oh? Pretty boy," Etienne slurred. "Come with me quietly and I'll let this one go."
"You lunatic. Get off me!"
"Why is this madman so strong?!"
Samon shoved at him, horrified, as the Minister tried to press his bloated cheek against him.
Unable to stomach it any longer, Samon's fist flew.
"Enough!"
His punch landed squarely on Etienne's face.
The Minister's eyes went bloodshot.
By the time the Prince Regent and Catherine rushed back into the hall, the tableau was already carnage:
their son and daughter bedraggled and humiliated beneath a rampaging Minister, who was frothing at the mouth like a rabid dog.
"Come to your senses!"
"What are you doing?! Seize the Minister, now!"
Several of the Regent's guards swarmed Etienne.
In the end, they had to hoist him like a sack of grain, carrying him away from the Claudio siblings as he kicked and snarled.
A stray gust caught what remained of Birna's torn skirts, exposing far more than decency allowed.
Overwhelmed, she finally swooned.
"She's fainted! Quickly, fetch a physician!"
Catherine swaddled her daughter in tablecloths and whatever fabric she could grab, shepherding her away under a ring of guards.
Samon, teeth clenched, managed to extricate himself from Etienne's grasp and ripped his sword free.
As the only heir to House Claudio, he'd been raised in carefully curated comfort. Never—not once—had he suffered such crude harassment.
And in public, no less.
"Young Lord, please restrain yourself!"
"I'll kill that beast today!"
"How dare you insult me! Do you want to see what punishment looks like?!"
"Restrain Samon. Get the Minister to the palace physician—now!"
The Regent snapped orders too late to avoid the damage.
The chaos was already carved into memory.
The Eye of the Storm
While House Claudio flailed in the wreckage, Medea quietly spoke.
"Acares."
The man stopped and looked down at her.
"...Acares."
Cesare realized belatedly that he was still holding the Princess.
She'd been so light in his arms that he'd nearly forgotten.
Her shallow breath brushed against his neck.
Is she really human? Or did some fairy or spirit bleed into the royal line?
For a man who prided himself on cold objectivity, even he had to admit the thought was irrational.
He was genuinely surprised such fragile creatures existed in nature at all.
Medea was just as unsettled.
At this distance, she could see his eyes clearly behind the iron mask—
hard gold, thoughtful, very much alive.
Interesting. And very strong.
From that single instant—being scooped up like stone and replaced, his boot snapping down on Etienne's foot—she'd seen enough to gauge his skill.
Within this hall, there would be no equal to him in a fight.
"Please put me down."
"My apologies."
Her feet touched the floor as lightly as if she'd never left it.
Each time he caught her like a hawk in flight and returned her, his hands were unexpectedly careful.
"Seeing the Princess in danger, I moved without thinking."
His words to others were always flawlessly polite, his smile slow and practiced.
Medea's eyes flicked over him, cool and assessing.
Men who walked the line between courtesy and insolence so effortlessly were not impulsive by nature. They were simply used to controlling others by rocking them off-balance.
Medea, who had no intention of being swayed, glanced instead at Gallo hovering behind him.
"You're rather presumptuous. You don't even seem to recognize your master."
Gallo scratched his head, mortified.
The mercenary he'd brought as his bodyguard had rushed to save the Princess he'd met moments ago—rather than the employer standing right there.
"You aren't my master yet."
Ignoring the rebuke, Cesare bent to retrieve Medea's fallen fan.
He offered it back to her—and let out a low laugh.
Anyone with the eyes to recognize a white flare would see immediately that this was no mere ornament, but steel.
"Well then. I prevented quite a disaster today."
Medea blinked once, feigning ignorance of Acares's self-satisfied tone.
When he lifted his lips in a faintly flirtatious smile, she felt irritation prickle beneath her composure.
To interfere without understanding the game, then boast about it—how very like a mercenary.
She turned her shoulder to him and addressed Gallo instead, voice cool.
"You're careless, Sir Gallo. I didn't realize you kept such a noisy stray that shoves its nose wherever it pleases."
Cesare hadn't expected to be dismissed so cleanly.
"You should be cautious. Facade is an arms dealer, not a kennel. Or have I misunderstood?"
"Ah—no, that is…"
Gallo's eyes went round as lanterns.
Medea left them with a glacial nod, skirts whispering as she walked away.
In the Wake
"You know that wasn't very boss-like, right?"
Gallo pursed his lips.
"You deliberately shifted the Minister's path earlier. Even if you fool everyone else, you can't fool her eyes."
He tapped his own eyes with two fingers, then pointed them at Cesare.
"Nonsense."
"If you really wanted to save people, you could've grabbed Lady Claudio too. That wouldn't have been difficult for you."
Cesare didn't answer.
He didn't like admitting, even to himself, that the moment the Minister's bloodshot gaze locked onto Medea—his body had moved before he thought.
Collision Complete ## The Hunter Finds His Quarry
A Minister falls. A daughter of Claudio is ruined. And between fox and wolf— the game sharpens into something neither had planned.
[ To Be Continued ]
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