All conversations abruptly stopped as the steward of the castle—the very man who had been assisting them since their arrival, sorting out team arrangements and distributing suite room keys—made his way toward the dining table where they now sat. The table's vantage point gave an uninterrupted view of the infinity pool, its waters shimmering under the fading light outside the grand windows. The Snake noticed the steward's eyes linger for a moment longer than necessary on Thalia, his gaze softening just slightly before he composed himself and turned to carefully examine each person seated around the table.
"My Ladies, my Lords," the steward announced with polished courtesy, "dinner will be served shortly."
Thalia's voice cut through the quiet hum at the table. "What is your name, Mr. Butler?" she asked, her tone clear but gentle. All eyes shifted to her instantly.
"I am Kaspar Vogel, Lady Drakos," he answered with a polite smile, a smile he seemed to reserve solely for her.
"Thank you for tending to us with such grace, Mr. Vogel," Thalia replied warmly, returning the smile with a brightness that seemed to illuminate the room. Her genuine kindness made everyone around her visibly soften, and a few even let out impressed sighs.
The Snake's eyes softened as they watched her, the warmth of her presence settling like a calm breeze through the space. She was so genuine, so effortlessly radiant—a breath of fresh air in an otherwise tense atmosphere. It was clear to them why she captivated everyone wherever she went. Her grace, power, and presence reminded him of the Greek goddess Aphrodite. It was no wonder the nickname was already spreading like wildfire through the castle's halls.
"Anything you need, Lady Drakos," Kaspar said softly, his voice lowering as he shifted his gaze to the others, his expression growing cooler and more reserved, "you can ask, and we will tend to your every need. The same goes for all of you. My master insists that all guests be treated with the utmost grace."
Mei-Mei, from the Eagles, couldn't help but point out with a pout, "You sound warmer with Thalia than you do with us."
The steward's eyes narrowed ever so slightly, his tone firm but fair. "She's the only one who has shown any warmth since you all arrived—from the very moment she stepped through the castle gates. She greeted me, and every member of the staff, just as she has greeted all of you, I assume. The rest of you merely accepted your keys and came inside without a word. She earned my warmer words."
Mei-Mei bit her lip, a hint of embarrassment creeping into her expression. "Ah… sorry, Mister."
Kaspar bowed slightly. "If you need anything at all, I'll be just around the corner. Please, enjoy your dinner." And with that, he quietly excused himself.
A thick, awkward silence settled over the table, as if the words had opened a sudden gulf between them. It was Thalia who finally shattered the stillness.
"You didn't talk to him? None of you?" she asked, voice lower now, tinged with an edge of tension.
"I… was too anxious when I came in," Mei-Mei admitted shyly, eyes downcast.
"I guess we were all tense, anxious, overwhelmed," Ren said, his tone carrying a note of reluctant admission.
All eyes turned to Thalia, silently awaiting her response.
"What?" she replied with a shrug, a slight edge of defensiveness in her voice. "I wasn't anxious or nervous. Just… a bit out of place." Her gaze drifted briefly toward the infinity pool. "When did your pre-entry assessment end? I had seven weeks of rest in luxurious confinement. They always told me I wouldn't be released until all preparations were done. So, I had enough time to cool down."
"Seven weeks?" Alessandro exclaimed, incredulous. "I only had two."
"I had four," Ren chuckled nervously, "but the confinement made it worse. It felt like being an animal prepared for slaughter. Plus, I'm claustrophobic."
"Mine ended six weeks ago," Samira added quietly, "but I thought we were finished first."
"Nope," Thalia said firmly. "It was my pre-entry assessment that lasted eight weeks." She grimaced at the memory.
"Yours started fifteen weeks ago?" Elijah asked, eyes wide with surprise.
She blinked, caught off guard. "Yours… didn't?"
"No. Mine started eleven weeks ago," he gasped, his Australian accent thickening with the weight of the admission.
"Mine started twelve weeks ago," Ren confirmed.
"Mine too," Rafael nodded.
"Mine started ten weeks ago and lasted four weeks," Samira added.
Thalia's eyes widened softly as the realization settled in. "That means the twenty-five pre-entry assessment sites weren't just scattered across different locations. They started at different times, lasted for different lengths, and finished at different moments."
"That cunning billionaire," Alessandro muttered, his Italian accent thickening with disdain.
All conversation tapered off once more, this time with a quiet inevitability, as the waiters and waitresses began their graceful procession toward the long dining table. The servants moved like a well-choreographed dance, each carefully balancing gleaming silver platters stacked high with luxurious dishes that seemed to multiply with every step they took. One after another, they laid down bowls of fragrant stews simmered with exotic spices, plates gleaming with perfectly cooked vegetables, vibrant salads dotted with bright jewels of fruit, and artfully arranged meats that looked as though they belonged in a royal gallery rather than on a dining table.
Jars and bottles followed in their wake—filled with a dizzying array of drinks: deep red juices with a mysterious richness, sparkling waters infused with rare herbs and flowers, and flavored elixirs in shades so vivid and strange that many around the table exchanged glances of awe and wonder. For most of them, these were things they had never even seen, let alone tasted, their exotic nature adding an extra layer of excitement to the feast. Every dish looked like it was conjured from a dream of sumptuous indulgence, each bite promising a burst of flavor and delight.
Thalia's eyes lit up like a child who had been starving for days, her radiant smile brighter than the flickering candlelight that decorated the table. "Thank you, guys," she said, her voice warm and genuine as she addressed the servers with heartfelt gratitude. Her gaze darted over the spread like someone rediscovering joy, awe, and hope all at once.
The Snake caught the subtle shift in the room—the way the servers softened under her gaze, how even the most reserved among them smiled back at her, as if caught in the orbit of her infectious warmth. She had no idea the effect she had. That complete unawareness only made her more captivating, more enchanting. It was effortless, natural—like a radiant sunbeam cutting through a dark forest, impossible to ignore.
They all watched as she leaned forward, gracefully reaching for some of the dishes closer to her. Her hand brushed the side of a bowl filled with tender roasted potatoes before she delicately lifted a glass of dark, reddish juice. She brought it to her nose first, inhaling deeply, savoring the scent with the reverence of a connoisseur, before setting it gently beside her plate. Then her knife slid through the medium-well lamb steak with a soft scrape, and she brought a perfect, juicy slice to her lips.
Her eyes closed in bliss. A soft, almost involuntary sound—a moan barely audible—escaped her, and she did a little dance with her shoulders, as if the flavor had awakened something wild and joyful inside her.
"Ugh," Ren groaned, watching her, his face flushing a deep crimson.
Thalia opened her eyes, still glowing, and glanced at him with teasing innocence. "What? Is yours bad?" she asked, lifting her glass of juice with a playful tilt.