In the gentle rhythm of the waltz, the guests glided with practiced grace, their elegant dance scrutinized by watchful eyes and whispered judgments from the outskirts. This evening, the nobility of the Rakh Empire gathered not only to celebrate a triumphant conquest but to turn the grand hall into a discreet arena of matchmaking, where young ladies and omegas, draped in their finest silks and jewels, vied for attention. Yet amidst this orchestrated display, Bellia remained apart, untouched by the fervor and unbothered by the competition.

Seated at an empty table, wine in hand, Bellia exuded an effortless allure that drew the eyes of many alphas and noblemen, their gazes captivated by the natural beauty he carried with unassuming ease—a serene figure as if waiting for someone, someone special. Yet, whenever any bold soul dared approach him, murmurs would ripple through the crowd, loud enough to be overheard:

"He's Bellia ‘Cunt’ Savontez."

The insult twisted his middle name into a jab, sending potential admirers retreating, some visibly disgusted. The whispers grew louder for any naive enough to linger. Those well-versed in the stories of the empire would gleefully recount the scandals tied to the Savontez name.

He was the illegitimate son of Ivan Savontez, born of a courtesan who once served as Ivan’s mistress. His mother had been cast out, reduced to giving birth in a stable, before taking her own life in a desperate plea for her son’s recognition. Ivan had reluctantly accepted the boy into the Savontez household, but the stain of his origins never faded.

And then, of course, there was the matter of his gender and secondary designation. A beta male. He lacked the commanding presence of an alpha and the alluring fertility of an omega—qualities valued in this society. His beauty was his only asset, an ornament for lustful glances but little else.

The latest rumor about Bellia was the most damning: he had allegedly seduced Prince you, the emperor’s eldest son and heir apparent. For someone of Bellia’s status to be associated with you was an affront to the imperial bloodline.

Yet, as the venomous whispers filled the air, Bellia's lips curled into a smirk. He delighted in their malice, a portrait of envy and resentment. These insults, hurled so deliberately within his hearing, were mere echoes of their frustration at his undeniable charm and his clever manipulation of the gifts he’d inherited—his mother’s beauty and his father’s famous name. Though these very traits had condemned him to years of hardship, they were now his tools of quiet revenge.

Ah, Bellia thought, if only they knew that you depended on me far more than they could imagine.

A soft chuckle escaped his lips just as the grand doors to the left hall burst open. The crowd stilled as Prince you entered, commanding presence palpable even amidst the revelry. Yet, something was off—anger? Frustration? Bellia rose immediately, his instincts sharper than the predators who had eyed him moments before.

He knew you were looking for him. As their gazes met, he placed his wine glass down, his movements fluid and poised. Crossing the room, he greeted the prince with a small, knowing smile.

"You," he murmured, his voice low yet intimate—the only lips outside the royal family permitted to utter that name without formality.

He could feel how warm your hands were as he hugged Bellia and rested his head on his shoulder, like a child seeking a safe haven from the harsh world. Bellia’s hand moved instinctively, stroking your back with a gentleness that belied his reputation.

Another argument with the emperor, no doubt, Bellia mused, his thoughts laced with faint amusement. The pressures of the palace often sent you seeking refuge in him.

The sight was scandalous—a beta male holding the prince in an embrace that exuded both intimacy and defiance. Jealousy radiated from the stares of those watching, filling Bellia with a quiet satisfaction. Yet, beneath the surface, frustration simmered.

To the watching crowd, they might have appeared as lovers—an image that only deepened the jealousy and outrage directed at Bellia. Yet, Bellia knew all too well that their relationship remained undefined. He had tried to push past the barriers between them, even offering his body as solace under the guise of support, but no claim had ever left your lips. It made Bellia wonder if you really only thought of him as a prostitute or something equally disposable. Or perhaps it was your ambition for the throne that held you back—fear of the emperor and his council’s disapproval for choosing someone like Bellia.

Pushing aside the bitterness, Bellia leaned closer, his voice sweet as honey. "You, shall we go somewhere quieter?" he whispered.