Omniphage of Apathy

The ballroom was abuzz with laughter, music and the clinking of glasses as nobles mingled in their finest attire, eagerly waiting for the grand entrance.

The doors to the ballroom were grand, tall and imposing, intricately carved with symbols of ancient houses and kingdoms. As the announcer's voice filled the room, the crowd's murmur began to die down.

"Attention, distinguished guests!" The announcer's voice boomed. "Please welcome, His Esteemed Royal Highness, Prince Vastarael Richinaria, and his mother, Her Esteemed Majesty, Queen Lysameria Richinaria!"

The doors swung open with a soft creak.

The moment they appeared, the atmosphere shifted. The crowd fell into a heavy silence that was so intense, it could almost be felt physically. It was as if they had all collectively inhaled a breath and were waiting to exhale.

Lysameria and Vastarael entered side by side, his mother's hand wrapped possessively around his arm, her other hand holding his. Lysameria, as usual, was the embodiment of ageless beauty, flawless in every sense.

But it was Vastarael who drew the eyes of every single person in the room.

He was dressed in a perfectly tailored royal outfit, the colors of House Richinaria blending perfectly with his complexion, his golden eyes gleaming. He was tall—taller than most men in the room—and with his lean, muscular frame, every movement of his body seemed to echo strength and power. His beauty was magnetic.and no matter how many women had seen handsome men, they had never seen a man like him.

As they crossed the threshold, a hush fell over the entire crowd. Eyes locked onto Vastarael immediately, the nobility now too stunned to even continue their conversations. All around, whispers began to swirl like a heavy storm waiting to break.

Women. Everywhere. They couldn't tear their eyes away.

Some openly stared, others subtly glanced, their gazes lingering on his every movement. Their expressions were a cocktail of admiration, desire, and, dare one say, lust.

Pure, undiluted lust.

They couldn't help themselves. His beauty was beyond anything they had ever seen before. His face, so finely sculpted it looked like it had been designed by the gods themselves,—even though he was from divine origin and was literally a child of two deities— his eyes gleaming with an otherworldly intensity that made their hearts skip a beat. His aura was something... tangible. It was magnetic and overpowering. It drew them in like moths to a flame, and they were desperate to bask in the heat of it.

Even the most poised and sophisticated women in the room couldn't help but feel a flush of heat creep up their necks, their hearts racing as their thoughts took on more... indulgent turns.

Some of them, trying to control themselves, subtly wiped their hands on their dresses or adjusted their hair, as if to mask the quickening pulse that Vastarael's presence stirred in them. The whispers grew louder as the women exchanged glances, each one trying to outdo the other with how badly they wanted him.

And then there was Dilasyus.

His eye twitched. He stood tall, his posture perfectly regal, but his eyes were narrowing, locked onto the sight of his son, whose presence had overtaken the entire ballroom.

The women, no doubt, were going to cause trouble. His lips barely curled, his expression cold as he gripped the wine glass in his hand. He tried to keep his cool, tried to focus on the conversations around him but... every time his gaze landed on Vastarael, the heat in his chest only flared hotter.

It was because of his wife.

Vastarael, ever so aware of the effect he had on people, winked playfully at his father from across the room. He held his gaze for a moment, then mouthed with a sly smile;

'She's mine tonight.'

Dilasyus froze, eyes widening for a brief moment. For a second, he looked like he was about to explode. The boldness, the carefree audacity of his son, it was clear he wasn't going to let this moment pass quietly. But before he could say anything, he caught sight of Caresse and Opera, who both giggled under their breath, clearly having seen the exchange.

"Don't worry," Caresse teased in a soft voice, "he'll grow on you. He's leaving tomorrow. Let him have his moment."

Opera, always the more level-headed, only gave him a knowing smile.

Meanwhile, Elyonari, standing off to the side with her mother, watched everything unfold. Her eyes darted from Vastarael to the other women in the room, unable to look away. Even she, who had been so grounded, found herself distracted by the magnetism of the man in the center of the room.

She was beginning to understand why people were drawn to him so fiercely. His presence was like an aura of dominance and though Elyonari tried to maintain her composure, she couldn't help but feel that same magnetic pull.

Over in another corner of the room, Vastarael's sisters, Anamorsia, Milliania and Leones, watched the spectacle with mixed emotions. They knew how handsome their brother was, how much attention he attracted—hell, they'd grown up with him—but even now, seeing the way everyone stared, they couldn't help but feel a touch of exasperation mixed with a bit of pride.

"Can't they stop looking at him?" Anamorsia muttered under her breath, though there was no malice in her tone. Just a simple acknowledgment of the overwhelming attention he received.

"Too handsome, isn't he?" Milliania replied with a sigh, crossing her arms as she leaned against the wall. "It's ridiculous. No one else can get a word in."

Leones, ever the practical one, let out a quiet sigh, rubbing the back of her neck.

"It's only going to get worse from here on out. Now with this, I highly believe that he's going to shatter people's reality of beauty and compare it to their beloveds."

Vastarael's presence was nothing short of overwhelming and the longer he stood there, his eyes sweeping across the room, the more entranced the women around him became. Some of them, unable to control themselves, openly smiled and batted their eyelashes, trying to catch his attention. They were a sea of beautifully adorned women, each trying to figure out the best way to stand out, to get close to him, but Vastarael, of course, was no fool. He knew the game all too well.

The guests, and especially the women, were now nearly paralyzed with wonder. The men, while still appreciating the beauty of his form, couldn't help but cast envious glances. Even they had to admit that it was nearly impossible to ignore Vastarael.

Vastarael glanced over at his father, Dilasyus, whose eye twitched as he watched the interaction unfold.

With a little more confidence than he had before, Vastarael turned to Lysameria and, in a voice just loud enough to be heard over the orchestra's music, asked,

"Mother, would you be honored to share my first dance with me?"

Lysameria gave him a look but she smiled softly. It was like she hadn't expected it but at the same time, maybe she had. She had raised him, after all. It made sense that after all these years, he'd want to do something like this.

She slid her hand into his and just like that, the entire ballroom went a little bit stiller. For a moment, it felt like the world stopped spinning.

"I accept."

And just like that, they stepped onto the dance floor. The moment seemed almost too perfect. A mother and son, walking to the center of the room, hand in hand, just as if they were the only two people in the universe.

As they took their positions, the music swelled a little louder, the vialex coming in smooth and rich and for a split second, it felt like this was a scene from a storybook. A perfect, rare moment.

Vastarael wasn't the best dancer. In fact, he was pretty damn stiff but his mother, as always, was graceful, guiding him with ease. They took their first few steps. He did know how to dance and seconds afterwards, he caught up and they continued dancing.

He wasn't just dancing with any woman. This was Lysameria, his mother, who had always been by his side. He knew how much she must've missed these moments, even if she hid it well behind her royal mask.

And as the music carried on, they danced in front of everyone. Every eye in the room was glued to them. The women, men, nobles, all of them watching. Even though it was obvious they were mother and son, the way they moved together, the way Lysameria looked at him, and the way Vastarael was effortlessly captivating everyone around them… it had an almost electric quality to it.

As they glided across the floor, Vastarael found himself slightly more at ease, his movements becoming more fluid with each step. It felt natural now, almost like he had done this hundreds of times before.

Around them, though, the rest of the room could hardly take their eyes off the sight. The women were staring, eyes wide, mouths slightly open, and it wasn't just because of the beauty of the moment. It was because of him. They couldn't help but be drawn to him. Even his father, as much as he was trying to control himself, couldn't help but squirm in his seat.

It was almost funny how much his own father was trying to keep his emotions in check while his son danced with his wife. Vastarael caught Dilasyus's eye from across the room and shot him a wink. He didn't say anything, but his lips widened into a grin.

Caresse and Opera both giggled from nearby, their eyes dancing with mischief as they saw their husband's barely contained frustration. Even Lysameria couldn't help but laugh softly as she saw his expression.

Back on the dance floor, Lysameria's hand tightened just slightly on his and he gave her a soft smile. This moment was for them. No one else. Not even his father.

As the music came to an end, they finished the dance in the middle of the room, still holding onto each other. Vastarael couldn't help but feel a strange warmth fill him. He hadn't expected the dance to feel this fulfilling, but it was perfect in its own right. It was almost like a way for him to show the world that he wasn't just the heir of Dynasty Richinaria.

And now, it was time for the finishing touch.