Chapter 196: ’How Can One Be Late To A Ball Where They Are The Main Character?’... Zorathys Words
Chapter 196: "How Can One Be Late To A Ball Where They Are The Main Character?"... Zorathys’ Words
Elyn’s POV
I smiled at Zorathys.
It was the kind of calm, patient smile one gave a stubborn child who believed they could negotiate their way out of brushing their teeth.
He stared at me for a long moment.
Then he sighed. It was deep and dramatic. The kind of sigh that suggested the entire universe had personally disappointed him.
His shoulders slumped.
His massive black wings drooped behind him until the tips brushed the polished floor. Even his shadows seemed to lose their will to exist. They sagged against the walls like exhausted servants who had given up on their master.
"I see," he muttered gravely, as though arriving at a tragic revelation. "I cannot convince you to postpone the ball."
I shook my head.
"No."
He narrowed his ruby eyes slightly.
"Not even a little?"
I shook my head again.
His wings drooped further, if that was even possible.
"Even a small postponement?" he tried.
I shook my head.
"Perhaps a minor delay?"
I shook my head.
"A symbolic postponement? Something tasteful and subtle?" he tried again.
"Persistent, aren’t you?" I asked him, then shook my head.
"No."
He stared at me as though I had personally betrayed him.
"Even," he said carefully, "just a little bit?"
I shook my head again.
"The ball takes place today, and nothing you say will postpone it," I told him firmly.
His shadows curled in on themselves in despair.
"I do not understand you," he muttered under his breath. "You are always ready to work."
I raised a brow.
"That is because time moves forward whether you acknowledge it or not."
He looked deeply offended by that statement.
"Time," he said flatly, "is overrated."
I ignored that.
"Time is ticking," I told him calmly. "And we will be late for the carpet of doom."
Zorathys made a low sound in his throat that was somewhere between a growl and a complaint.
"You," he said, pointing lazily at me, "are the main character."
I blinked.
"I am what?"
"The main character," he repeated as though this were obvious. "You cannot be late for anything. The world will simply wait."
I crossed my arms.
"That is not how this works."
"It is exactly how this works," he insisted. "It is called being fashionably late."
I rolled my eyes.
"It’s impressive you know that term," I told him.
"I invented it, firefly," he told me.
I just stared at him with raised eyebrows. "Highly debatable, especially since we used the term in my past life too."
"Get dressed, Zorathys."
He yawned in response.
A slow, unapologetic yawn that showed off his sharp fangs.
"I am dressed," he said vaguely.
"You are hovering midair in sleep attire."
"That is a style."
"Not for a diplomatic introductory ball."
He sighed again.
Then something shifted.
The enormous black body pillow with his own face printed on it vanished without warning.
His wings dissolved into nothingness like smoke fading into the night.
His shadows lifted from the walls and floor and rushed toward him in one fluid motion.
They wrapped around his form for less than a second.
And then they fell away.
I blinked.
Zorathys stood before me fully dressed.
All black.
Of course.
The fabric of his dress was tailored with meticulous precision. Structured yet fluid. The jacket fitted to his broad shoulders and tapered cleanly at his waist. The same gold embroidery that climbed my gown now wove through the hem of his coat and across the cuffs of his sleeves.
Ruby threads shimmered faintly within the patterns, catching the light exactly the way they did on my gown.
His shirt beneath was black as well.
The top buttons were undone.
Of course they were.
His collarbone was exposed just enough to be deliberate without being indecent.
His earrings had changed too. But the jewelry was still ruby. The cut, though, was sharper and more angular.
His long black hair was pulled back into a loose ponytail at the nape of his neck, leaving a few strands to frame his face.
His ruby eyes were half-lidded... there was no surprise there.
He looked devastatingly beautiful.
I gasped.
I hadn’t meant to.
It escaped me before I could stop it.
He didn’t even look like he had put effort into it.
And yet—why was the word so unjust? How was it that he looked so beautiful with considerably less effort than I had?
There was a reason he was the most famous being in the demon realm.
A reason the demogazine would lose its collective mind the moment he stepped onto that carpet.
His lips curved into a smirk, and he closed the distance between us with slow, effortless steps. His movements were unhurried, lazy even—but there was nothing weak about them.
He stopped directly in front of me.
He lifted his hands and took mine in his.
His palm was warm and large too.
"If you continue staring at me like that," he murmured, voice low and smooth despite the lingering sleepiness, "we will actually be late."
I scoffed.
"You were the one trying to postpone the ball to a thousand years from now."
"A thousand years is a very reasonable timeframe."
"It is not."
"It allows for proper rest."
"You slept."
"Not enough."
"You were hugging a pillow with your own face on it."
He paused.
"That pillow is emotionally supportive."
I stared at him.
He stared back.
I sighed deeply, and his smile widened a bit. Just a little fraction.
His thumb brushed over my knuckles absentmindedly.
His gaze traveled down the length of my gown again, slower this time.
Approval flickered through his eyes.
"You wore it," he observed quietly.
I nodded.
"You picked it out for me, remember?" I asked him.
He smiled at me. "It suits you."
"Thank you."
I tilted my head slightly.
"Are you awake enough to survive this ball?"
"No."
"That was not reassuring."
He sighed softly.
"Firefly," he said in that smooth, infuriating tone, "I have ruled for centuries. I can survive nobles."
"You do not sound confident."
"I am tired," he corrected. "Not incapable."
His free hand lifted and gently adjusted the embroidered stole draped over my shoulders. His fingers brushed the fabric carefully, almost reverently.
His shadows thickened further, rising along our legs like living silk.
"Ready?" he asked.
"As ready as you are," I told him.
"I’m ready for almost anything, firefly. I just don’t want to do most things."
"You’d prefer to sleep," I told him.
"Is this you rethinking my decision to postpone?" he asked me.
"I’d rather have it done than postpone it. So no, this is not me rethinking your decision, or rather your suggestion to postpone," I told him.
He made a face, and I noticed his shadows droop.
"At least I tried," he muttered.
"Zorathys, can we go now?" I asked him.
He tilted his head back slightly, rolling his shoulders once as if loosening tension from his frame.
Wait, Zorathys has no tension in his body. I was sure he was removing the remainder of his sleepiness with that move, but that would not work. Zorathys was still going to feel tired no matter what he did.
He released my hand and yawned loudly, then took my hands in his again.
"Shall we, my queen?" he asked me.
I rolled my eyes at that. "Queen-to-be, Zorathys. I am just your fiancée."
"Potato, potato," he said and waved me off.
I was about to speak when his shadows surrounded me and Zorathys drew me closer. Rather than say his shadows surrounded me, they surrounded us, forming a cocoon around us, and before I knew it, we were outside the palace on what I suspected was the carpet of doom.
There were various flashes of light. I noticed different demons flying in the air, holding a strange device that glinted like it had a jewel on it. It was as if the noise increased immediately we stepped onto the carpet. The amount of cheers I heard was deafening.
Different demons called to Zorathys.
"Your Majesty, look this way."
"Your Majesty, you look as regal as ever."
"Your Royal Extreme Laziness, look this way."
"Over here."
And as the others called for Zorathys, I noticed that there were calls for me too.
"Your Highness, you look beautiful in that dress."
"Did you plan it with the King? It looks perfect."
"You look dashing, Your Highness. Look this way for a picture."
"You are absolutely lovely. It’s the highest pleasure to meet you. Look this way, Your Highness!"
"Your hair is absolutely marvellous. Your Highness, grace this lovely demon with a smile."
The noise kept increasing, and I had to cover my ears and even shield my eyes from the light and the noise.
But then suddenly, it all stopped.
The lights dimmed, and the noise reduced.
I could finally see clearly, and I noticed that those who were taking pictures—I didn’t know if I could call them paparazzi—were all hanging upside down.
Zorathys’ shadows were wrapped around their necks as if planning to strangle them.
What was going on?