World's Best Protagonist [BL]-Chapter 125: Night of the Banquet

The return journey to Lewellyn’s dukedom passed in relative silence. Claude, Etienne, Lexie, and the mage accompanying them barely spoke as the teleportation spell pulsed them back to familiar soil.

What lay ahead allowed no time for relief. Upon their return, preparations for the palace banquet kicked into high gear. The nobles, greedy for gossip, were eager to feast their eyes on the newly risen duke, who disappeared from high society after Princess Eleanor went missing, and the so-called lost princess.

Etienne was whisked away almost immediately by Duke Eugene, whose staff ensured every detail of his transformation was executed to perfection.

"Are all of these...truly necessary?" Etienne asked as his gaze roamed over the rows of clothes before him, and hesitation played in his eyes.

"Yes. You will enter with me," Eugene answered. He waved his hand, and a female servant approached. He began giving orders, ignoring Etienne.

But Etienne was still unconvinced. "Why must I—"

"There had been rumors about me ever since His Highness disappeared. If they see you with me, no one will question where you came from."

Etienne could not refute that. His job is to sneak into the tower where Noir’s mother was. By doing that, he needed to pretend as a noble, so it would not look suspicious if he roamed the palace, and just explain he was lost if caught.

Meanwhile, Claude and Lexie slipped into the palace under the guise of new hires. The palace, already desperate for help with the large-scale event, had no qualms hiring the "duke-recommended" pair.

With only that piece of paper from the Duke of the North, they were hired immediately.

Claude and Lexie were assigned as servers because of their pleasant appearances. So, for two days, they trained alongside other recruits—learning how to bow just enough to show respect but not subservience, how to serve wine without spilling a drop, how to walk with trays on one hand while avoiding eye contact with lecherous nobles.

They both easily overcame that part, but the hardest part was studying the palace’s layout and finding the easiest way to get to Noir’s mother, the late emperor’s consort.

There was no time to look for Noir. The palace was a machine running on urgency and appearances, and they were now parts of its polished gears.

And then, finally, the third day arrived. The day of the banquet.

The grand hall of the imperial palace was a vision of excess and illusion. Crystal chandeliers bathed the marble floor in warm gold, and velvet curtains the color of blood draped down the walls.

Nobles filled the space in a sea of muted pastels and shimmering brocades. Tailored coats, polished boots, and jeweled fans fluttered among the guests like butterflies pretending not to be watching hawks.

But even with the lavish decorations and orchestral music in the background, a heavy tension clung to the air like fog. Whispered conversations carried far.

"Poor Princess Eleanor. She was kidnapped, yet the duke kept another woman at his estate. They say that the mysterious woman is the reason why he hasn’t been attending social gatherings."

"Will the duke bring his woman? What do you think, ladies?"

"That would be too rude! To bring a paramour to a banquet held for his betrothed!"

The door opened. The music stopped. The chatter stilled. Every head turned.

Duke Eugene had arrived, tall and dignified, his usual dark attire replaced with silver and black, embroidered with Lewellyn’s crest. But everyone’s gaze only stayed on him for a few seconds before they focused on the person beside him.

They stared at the woman in his arms.

Clad in a flowing gown of royal blue, satin shimmering with each step, her golden hair curled to frame her delicate, pale features. A necklace of sapphires nestled above her collarbone, matching the color of her gown and the careful touch of eyeshadow. Her gaze, however, remained fixated on one person.

Lexie, holding a tray of champagne flutes, nearly dropped one. She had seen Etienne in battle, sometimes blood-soaked, but nothing prepared her for this royal reveal.

She whispered under her breath, "The hell kind of makeover magic—?"

Claude, who stood across the room near a column, froze entirely. His tray didn’t move. His expression didn’t change outwardly, but there was a flash—an unmistakable flicker—in his eyes. Something unspoken. Regret? Shock? Awe?

This was what caught Etienne’s gaze. He was embarrassed to be seen by his teammates in that kind of get-up, but he was more curious to know why his captain was stunned. To him, Claude’s eyes were sad and regretful, like he was about to cry.

"Goodness! He did bring her!"

"How shameless could he be? But did you know which family that beauty came from?"

No one had time to react further when the trumpets sounded again. An announcement was made, and everyone had to bow and curtsy in a hurry.

The king finally came. Princess Eleanor’s older brother. Noir’s abuser and blackmailer.

He was a tyrant. Blood-throned and iron-hearted. His presence was like a chill slipping down everyone’s spine. He smiled, but it held no warmth—only satisfaction, the kind one gets when a missing chess piece falls back into place. He was as good-looking as Noir, but his eyes held terror, and the way he scanned the hall was like a predator searching for his next prey.

"My beloved sister, the sole remaining princess of our empire," the king declared, voice echoing through the domed ceiling, "has returned to us alive, by divine grace."

A lie uttered with all the finesse of an actor in a play, but no one dared question it. A sinister smirk played on his face, not even hiding the danger he could bring if he was ever crossed tonight.

"She was found and rescued by Duke Eugene Lewellyn. Therefore, the banquet tonight is not only to celebrate the miraculous return of the imperial family’s last jewel, but also to honor the duke’s loyalty and perseverance in searching for the lost princess."

Everyone clapped for the duke and faked an admiring smile at his achievement. Then, the princess’s presence finally graced the entire hall.

All eyes turned again to the figure descending the grand staircase.

Princess Eleanor Rozentine.

Walking down the steps, flanked by guards, her shoulder-length light pink hair was curled into soft waves, subtly framing her face. A flowy, lavender gown hugged her form with elegance, lined with silver embroidery resembling thorns and roses. Her lashes were longer than usual, and the curve of her lips, painted lightly, tilted into an innocent, gorgeous smile.

Lexie’s jaw hit the floor again. She rubbed her eyes, disbelief was evident on her face. "Wait. Is that Noir?" she muttered. "What—? What princess?"

She searched for Claude and found him just staring blankly at them, as if seeing his male comrades in pretty dresses wasn’t shocking.

The crowd cheered for the princess’s appearance, masking their faces with concern and sympathy for what she’d been through, and fake relief that she had finally returned to court again. Some were genuinely happy, while others showed pity.

It was a known fact that the only reason the tyrannical king spared the princess’s life was because she was useful, innocent, and did not have an inkling of court matters. She was a perfect pawn to gain political allies, like a trophy he’d give to anyone who would support him with utmost loyalty.

Sometimes, she was a watchdog he sent to social gatherings, to become his eyes and ears outside the palace. But most often, she was another form of his entertainment. Her fears, her cowers, her tears, were fascinating to him, a vile human getting fulfillment in watching her tremble like a rabbit caught under a hunter’s trap.

Noir descended like the elegant and graceful princess he was. At the corner of his eyes, he saw Etienne with Eugene. He had no time to go over to them, since he was grabbed by the king to show him around to his subjects, to kill the rumors that it was he who orchestrated the kidnapping of the princess.

"I can kill you whenever and wherever I want, my dearest princess. So, why would I waste my time and order a kidnapping? Isn’t that right, Eleanor?"

"Indeed, Your Majesty," Noir answered submissively. The king chuckled.

As the orchestra struck up a waltz, the party truly began. Wine flowed, nobles spun across the floor, and superficial laughter bubbled.

And just as planned, Duke Eugene leaned in close to Etienne once the crowd was no longer focused on them. He murmured something softly into his ear, and Etienne nodded once. He slipped away like a shadow into the crowd. Eugene decided to approach Noir to steer him away from the king.

Lexie didn’t miss a beat. She handed off her tray to a passing server and followed Etienne quietly, weaving between nobles, ducking under servants’ paths, until she reached the exit where Etienne passed.

"Let’s hurry," Etienne whispered once Lexie caught up to him. "Noir said that his mother was kept in the East Tower."

The tower was heavily guarded. Four knights, all in black and gold, stood posted by the only entrance and exit.

Lexie rolled her eyes. "Too easy."

A moment later, the guards were unconscious, neatly stacked behind the tower’s heavy doors. They quickly climbed the spiral stairs and searched for other doors, but they reached the highest level and found only one.

It was as if the tower were solely made as a prison for only one person.

Etienne hesitated as he stepped inside. The room was dark, save for a single, flickering candelabra. An old wooden bed stood in the center. Curtains swayed faintly with the night breeze from the slightly opened window.

There was no warmth. No sign of someone living inside. Cobwebs on the walls, rats on the floors, and dust everywhere.

Etienne’s steps faltered, then halted. His breath hitched. The bed smelled of decay.

The figure lying beneath the covers had long since turned to rot.

Noir’s mother... was already dead.