The Virtue Ending

The garden was a picture of tranquility, its lush greenery vibrant under the clear sky. The soft scent of blooming roses and sweet jasmine floated through the air, mixing with the subtle aroma of freshly brewed tea and warm pastries. The long stone pathway, lined with colorful flowers, led to a rectangular table set with fine china, silver cutlery, and an array of treats—delicate finger sandwiches, cream-filled pastries, and fresh fruit tarts. Laughter and chatter filled the air, the children, lively and animated, basking in the afternoon sun. Behind them, the grand Marcellus mansion stood tall, its ivy-clad stone walls a silent backdrop to the cheerful gathering. The sun's rays cast a gentle glow over the scene, making the garden feel even more serene, while a light breeze added a refreshing touch to the warm day.

Lucian Marcellus sat at the center of the table, his posture poised with an air of effortless elegance. He wasn't particularly focused on the conversation around him, his attention absorbed by the book in his hands. His silver hair, neatly swept back with a few loose strands that fell just above his eyes, caught the light with every subtle shift of his head. His golden eyes, calm yet piercing, glimmered with an unreadable depth as they skimmed over the pages of his book, unfazed by the shrill laughter and animated chatter of the children gathered around the table. He wore a dark vest over a crisp white shirt, the fabric immaculately pressed, with trousers that complemented his sophisticated appearance. Despite being twelve, Lucian's quiet demeanor and mature bearing made him seem older, as if he had mastered the art of keeping his emotions locked behind a careful, unreadable mask.

Jane Marcellus sat to Lucian's right, her hands delicately folded over her lap as if she were posing for a portrait. Her curly brown hair gleamed under the soft sunlight, its elaborate arrangement revealing the hours of effort the maids had put into perfecting it. Crimson eyes—an unyielding emblem of the Marcellus bloodline—glanced fleetingly toward the far end of the table, where a small, frail and unremarkable figure sat. Noah Marcellus, barely registering in their gaze, lingered quietly in the periphery like a forgotten shadow, as though he were part of the furniture. Though a polite smile graced Jane's lips, her tightly clenched teacup and stiff posture hinted at the struggle beneath the surface.

She laughed when the other children made cheerful remarks, her voice ringing too high, too rehearsed. But every so often, her gaze flickered toward Noah, her smile faltering for the briefest of moments before she caught herself. For Jane, this tea party was both a performance and a test of restraint. As much as she despised the boy for reasons she didn't entirely understand herself, she was determined to keep her disdain hidden—at least until the last guest departed.

Sophia Flavia, seated beside Jane, leaned forward with a sly smile curving her lips. Her straight golden hair shimmered like threads of sunlight, neatly combed and cascading down her back, framing her sharp, aristocratic features. Her bright blue eyes gleamed with mischief as she lifted her teacup, her voice as sweet as the honeyed pastries on the table.

"Aren't you worried about your inheritance, Jane?" Sophia remarked casually, her tone laced with a veiled taunt.

The words sliced through the cheerful atmosphere like a knife, and Jane stiffened, her delicate fingers halting mid-air as she reached for her teacup. For a fleeting moment, her crimson eyes flickered with something darker—fear, anger, or perhaps both—but she quickly masked it with a forced laugh.

"Sophia, what a peculiar thing to ask," Jane replied, her tone light but noticeably strained. She set her teacup down carefully, the porcelain clinking softly against the saucer. "Why would I worry? Uncle John ensures everything runs perfectly."

Sophia tilted her head slightly, her smile widening. "Oh, of course. I was just curious, you know. With a new addition to your household, one can't help but wonder how things might shift."

The unspoken name—Noah—hung heavy in the air, and for a brief moment, Jane's forced composure wavered. She glanced at the far end of the table where the boy sat quietly, his head bowed, seemingly unaware of the exchange. But the pressure of Sophia's gaze bore down on her, forcing her to laugh again, this time louder, as though to drown out her unease.

"Shift? Don't be absurd, Sophia," Jane said, her voice a touch too bright. "Such things are beneath concern. Our family's legacy is stronger than ever."

At the far end of the table sat Noah, a stark contrast to the opulence surrounding him. His crimson eyes, striking and uncommon, peeked out from beneath the unruly fringe of his fluffy black hair, casting an almost ethereal glow in the sunlight. His snowy complexion was nearly translucent, a haunting beauty that seemed misplaced amidst the polished airs of the nobility.

Despite being dressed in the finest garments—a tailored suit in deep midnight blue, adorned with silver embroidery—Noah's presence felt foreign. The delicate stitching of his cuffs, the glint of polished shoes, and even the silk ribbon tied around his collar could not mask the raw, unrefined edge about him. He sat with his back straight, hands neatly folded on his lap, but there was a timidness in his movements—a reluctance to touch anything as though afraid he might shatter the fragile elegance around him.

One glance at Noah, and it was evident he did not belong here. "Silk on a beggar's back only deepens the stain of his origins." The boy from the slums, dressed in the splendor of the wealthy, was a portrait of contradiction. The glittering finery draped over him did not elevate him; it only made the rawness of his past more glaring, like dirt clinging to the edge of a polished gemstone. The faint tremor in his hands as he lifted a teacup, the darting glances as he watched the others, and the way he hesitated before every small gesture—it all screamed of someone out of place.

But it wasn't just his demeanor. The other children treated him like an outsider too. Though they smiled politely, their gazes held a veiled disdain, their words laced with a condescension he was too gentle to challenge. He was a guest in a world he had been thrust into, trying desperately to navigate its unspoken rules.

"So, Noah," Sophia began, her voice smooth yet tinged with an unmistakable edge. She leaned forward slightly, her golden hair catching the light as her piercing blue eyes settled on the boy. "How does it feel to live here? Has it been a week already?"

Her smile was pleasant—too pleasant. The kind of smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. One could only guess at the true intentions behind it, though the slight raise of her brow suggested something less than innocent.

Noah flinched ever so slightly at being addressed, his crimson eyes darting toward Sophia before quickly lowering to his lap.

"Y-yes," he replied softly, his voice barely above a whisper. "It's been a week."

Sophia tilted her head, her smile widening. "A week already, and you still look so overwhelmed. Isn't it wonderful to be here, in the Marcellus estate?" she mused, her tone dripping with mock sweetness.

Across the table, Jane stiffened, her fingers tightening imperceptibly around the delicate handle of her teacup. Though her expression remained composed, a flicker of annoyance passed through her crimson eyes. She forced a smile, her lips curving just enough to maintain the charade of civility.

"Why such interest in him, Sophia?" Jane remarked, her tone light but edged with irritation. "Surely there are more intriguing topics to discuss."

Her words hung in the air, a subtle warning. Sophia, unbothered, glanced back at Jane with a knowing smirk. "Oh, I'm just curious. Isn't everyone?"

A light chuckle broke through the tense atmosphere. "These two siblings are certainly… intriguing," Theodore remarked with a sly grin, his tone brimming with amusement. His slightly slanted almond eyes, framed by the sheen of his jet-black hair, caught the sunlight with a subtle gleam, adding a sharpness to his features that exuded an almost fox-like elegance. His sweet disarming smile might have enchanted anyone unfamiliar with his true nature. But for those who knew him, that smile carried an edge—something far more dangerous than its surface suggested.

Beside him, Kevin remained silent, his icy gaze drifting over the table as if he were surveying a battlefield. His blond hair fell neatly to his shoulders, framing a face devoid of warmth. Those sharp features, coupled with piercing blue eyes, seemed to unnerve even the most confident of individuals. Unlike Theodore's easy demeanor, Kevin radiated an unyielding calm, a stillness that made others second-guess themselves.

Theodore and Kevin, along with Lucian, were the eldest at the table, all twelve years old and heirs to powerful noble families. Their shared lineage formed a natural connection, though the dynamics of their friendship were as complex as their personalities.

Lucian, as usual, remained silent, his silver head bent slightly as if engrossed in his book. The faintest flicker of a smirk graced his lips at Theodore's comment, but his sharp golden eyes remained trained on the pages in front of him, giving away little of thoughts.