I'm Going on Patrol

With the conclusion of the first dance, everyone raised their glasses in celebration, wishing His Majesty the King health and longevity, and Her Highness the Princess eternal youth.

The atmosphere was lively, filled with cheerful smiles, yet completely calm and unruffled on the surface.

In the eyes of the vast majority of ordinary people, the ball was perfectly peaceful.

They would never know that in plain sight of the entire crowd, a brief yet fierce battle had quietly concluded beyond human perception.

This deepened Lynch’s understanding of the mystical world by yet another layer.

This was how it was meant to be—forever hidden beyond the world of ordinary folk, hazy and unknown, yet deciding everything with effortless finality.

Lynch felt as though he had just downed a cup of mellow wine, thoroughly invigorated.

Only, he could not shake the feeling that when Her Highness Sophia opened her eyes at the end, the look in them was slightly unusual—and so were the words she had spoken.

“I will never forget this dance in my entire life, Mr. Lynch Levive. You had better start praying right now that the enemies succeed tonight, or else...”

I didn't get myself into trouble again, did I? Well, it probably won't come to that.

Having said her piece, Her Highness had casually returned under the guard of several close bodyguards—two he had seen at the Church of Suffering, and two fresh faces.

As they took over, the four bowed slightly to him in secret, presumably already aware of everything that had just occurred.

After that, the ball proceeded smoothly onto its normal course. With the intermission between dance tunes now underway, people relaxed, milling around the venue with wine glasses in hand, occasionally gathering in small groups to chat and laugh in low voices.

Even the commoners naturally gathered together. The grand scale of the ball gave these lower- and middle-class citizens a glimpse into high society’s luxury, but life had to go on. Since they could never squeeze into the circles of the powerful and wealthy, they made their own fun. After all, there was plenty of good food, fine drink, and entertainment here. Dressed in their finest, broadening their horizons, and chatting and dancing with fellow commoners—it still made for a wonderful evening.

Meanwhile, Lynch sat blankly in a corner of the hall, staring in a daze at the wine glass on the table. In that battle just now, the most intense clash had lasted only a few seconds, yet it left him mentally exhausted, as if his energy had been completely drained.

And yet, he did not feel tired. Instead, his spirits grew increasingly exhilarated; the rush the battle had given him had not faded in the slightest, growing only stronger.

What a lingering aftertaste.

This was the first time he had fought using his inspiration, making him realize that the high inspiration he had once considered a nuisance was actually a hidden weapon.

As long as one could withstand the damage that gazing into things inflicted upon one's sanity, inspiration was extraordinarily useful. Otherwise, as a minor figure with merely rank two authority, even with the right timing, terrain, and circumstances, he would never have qualified to participate in a clash between big shots, let alone play a decisive, key role.

Those few seconds of combat had granted him profound insights. Staring at the glass, he replayed the battle repeatedly in his mind. The back-and-forth clashes of wills, the confrontation using thoughts as weapons, every single collision of divine sense—they all replayed continuously in his thoughts, captivating him completely.

By the time he came back to his senses, the glass on the table had already been picked up and held out before him.

Looking up, he saw Officer Natalie in her black gown, her face slightly stern.

Glancing around, he was relieved to find that the ball hadn't already ended while he was lost in thought; the second dance had not begun yet, though it would soon.

The guests were in high spirits, and some had already begun scouring the hall for dance partners. Of course, Her Highness the Princess was tired from dancing and needed to rest, so she wouldn't make an appearance for the second dance at least.

“Are you alright?” The officer shoved the wine glass into Lynch’s hand, her tone casual. “Seeing you daydreaming here the moment you left the dance floor, I thought you had been utterly captivated.”

Lynch blinked mischievously. “So you’ve been standing guard by my side the whole time?”

“Who cares about you?” The officer glared at him. Feeling that wasn't enough, she added a kick to his shin. “I was just patrolling nearby, that's all.”

“Right, right, right.” Lynch’s shins and toes seemed to have built up resistance, showing no reaction at all as he let out a sigh with glass in hand. “Nothing's wrong. I was just reviewing the battle from earlier.”

“Victor said your reaction at the end looked abnormal, that you might have been contending with someone and ultimately saved the Princess. It seems that was true? You didn't suffer any complications, did you?”

“I wouldn't call that contending—more like being chased all over the floor.” Lynch let out a self-deprecating chuckle. “Don't worry, I'm fine. Don't forget my survival skills; it's not so easy for them to hurt me.”

Only then did the officer smile, a hint of pride slipping into her tone that even she didn't notice. “No wonder Boivar and Moliere looked so serious afterward. Hmph, never mind them. As long as you're fine. Well, I'm leaving.”

“Hm? Where are you going?”

“The second dance is about to begin.” With her back turned, the officer said without looking back, “I'm going on patrol.”

Lynch frowned, his voice laced with bewilderment. “Mr. V arranged for you to patrol? Now?”

“Yeah.”

“No, he isn't stupid. He wouldn't do something that draws such resentment.” Lynch abruptly stood up. “I'll go ask him.”

“Come back.” The back fell silent for a moment before speaking in a low voice, “I asked for it myself.”

“Why?”

“Someone has to go, and I just wanted to.” Officer Natalie hesitated a moment, then suddenly whipped around, glaring at Lynch. “What else? Force you to choose someone on the spot to dance the second one with? Could a bastard like you even make a choice?”

Lynch’s mouth hung open as he stared dumbfoundedly at the fuming officer, rendered completely speechless.

“It was fine for you to dance the first dance with the Princess. But if you don't dance the second one with her, won't she be mocked afterward? I'm not a noble, so of course it doesn't matter to me, but she's different.”

“I...”

Lynch blushed, feeling ashamed for the first time.

“Don't ‘I’ me. I don't mean anything else by it, and this is just for once. Anyway, I'm going on patrol.”

With that, the officer gave a cold huff, turned around, lifted her sword, and strode away, leaving Lynch standing where he was, staring at her retreating back with a wry smile.

In truth, she was not wrong at all. Rumors were already starting to circulate; if he danced the second dance with anyone else, it would likely deal a severe blow to Miss Valente's image. Thus, Lynch had indeed wanted to find an opportunity to explain the situation clearly to the female officer. He had believed she would be understanding, but he never expected that before he could even explain, she had already cast him aside.

Tsk, the kindness of a beautiful woman is heavy indeed.

Since she took the initiative to be considerate, he could not let her kindness go to waste. Even though he felt he was speeding down the path of a scumbag with no turning back, Lynch chuckled self-deprecatingly, put down his wine glass, and headed toward Miss Valente among the circle of noble young ladies.

They were conspicuous; a gathering of noble ladies was naturally the most eye-catching attraction at the ball. Countless unmarried gentlemen hovered around them, holding all manner of eccentric gifts and extending enthusiastic invitations.

Those who succeeded beamed with joy or even cheered excitedly, while those who failed slunk away in dejection, resembling nothing so much as a pack of male beasts in mating season.

Lynch chuckled under his breath as he watched, but as soon as he drew near, his smile vanished.

The two competitors who had earlier sought to invite the Princess for the first dance—Jett, the son of House of Lords Speaker Williams, and Kaelin, the third secretary of the Governor's Mansion—were standing before Miss Valente simultaneously, each holding a bouquet of flowers and extending an enthusiastic invitation.