High above the city, in the floating Sky District, this skyscraper was more than a structure—it was a symbol of the world's elite, a place where only the most influential could tread.

  A trading hub.

  The clouds hung low, curling around the edges of the building, making it feel like an ethereal fortress.

  The vastness of the room was emphasized by its polished white marble floors, its high ceilings adorned with intricate frescoes, and the massive crystal chandelier suspended in the center, casting a soft glow over the attendees.

  Gentle murmurs of conversation filled the space, punctuated by the occasional clink of glasses.

  Valentina Seraphine moved with grace, her long red dress trailing behind her like a flame licking the polished floors.

  The deep crimson fabric was sleek, and though the design was elegant, the plunging neckline made it impossible to ignore her presence. Heads turned as she walked, but it wasn't just the dress or her visible confidence that caught attention; there was an air of calculation in her steps, a deliberate pace that spoke of purpose.

  Outside, through the vast glass windows, the sprawling city of Ghent glittered like a thousand stars had fallen to the earth.

  The view from the large balcony was awe-inspiring, with the city's lights stretching far below, and the Tower—a monumental structure that stood at the edge of the city—looming large even from such a great distance.

  It dominated the skyline, casting a shadow over everything, yet its sheer grandeur was unmistakable. No matter where you were in Ghent, the Tower was visible, a constant reminder of its significance and power.

  "He built a damn good tower, right, Butler?" a voice remarked casually from the balcony. The speaker, a man in his late fifties with graying hair, stood with an air of superiority, gazing out into the city.

  "Yes, sir," the butler responded, his tray balanced expertly in one hand, the other dabbing at his brow with a handkerchief as he followed his employer's steps. Dressed in the traditional black-and-white attire, the butler was the epitome of service and discretion, blending into the opulent background like a shadow.

  Meanwhile, Valentina approached her target—a boy no older than his early twenties, standing amidst a group of stereotypical fat businessmen who exuded greed.

  Their laughter was loud, their voices booming as they boasted of deals and profits. The boy, however, seemed disinterested, his youthful face contrasting with the older men around him.

  He wore a simple suit, but his demeanor was anything but simple. Confidence oozed from him as he turned to Valentina, leaving the group of men behind without so much as a farewell.

  "Valentina Seraphine, rolls-worth head of the financial department." she says as he turns.

  "Soo, how old are you?" the boy asked as soon as she was within earshot, breaking the silence with the first thing that came to his mind.

  His voice carried a tone of nonchalance, as if her age was just a formality, a box to tick before moving on.

  "Twenty-six," Valentina replied smoothly, not missing a beat. Her voice was calm, measured.

  "That's more than alright," the boy said, dismissing the fat men with a wave of his hand, uncaring if they took offense at his abruptness. "Excuse me, will you?" he said to the men, his confidence apparent, even bordering on arrogance.

  He picked a glass off a passing butler's tray, the champagne within it bubbling lightly. His eyes glanced back at Valentina, intrigued but guarded.

  "What would I have the pleasure of doing with someone of your standing, eh?" he asked, a half-smirk playing on his lips.

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  "No need to flatter me," Valentina responded, though her expression remained unreadable. "You're one of the managers of the church, aren't you?"

  "Hmm, you could say that," he replied, swirling the champagne in his glass. "Though I'd prefer you call me an archbishop," he muttered, taking a small sip, his eyes never leaving hers.

  Valentina remained focused, undeterred by his casual demeanor. "So why'd you draw my attention? And don't say it's because of my pretty face," the boy quipped, his smile widening.

  Valentina's eyes narrowed slightly, her expression still composed. "I was sent here by the CEO of Rolls-Worth," she said finally, cutting through the small talk.

  The boy raised an eyebrow, taking another sip of his champagne. "To discuss what?"

  Before she could answer, he interrupted, "Merge? If so, no. If not, continue."

  His bluntness was evident. His attire—a simple suit, the tail of the blazer reaching his heel, accompanied with a light gold chain hanging across his chest—didn't reflect the sharpness of his tone.

  He had a hand in his pocket, the other holding the champagne glass lazily, as if this conversation bored him already.

  "No, not a merge," Valentina started, before being cut off again.

  "Is your CEO Valtirei?" the boy interrupted once more, his interest suddenly piqued.

  Valentina, used to dealing with difficult personalities, remained calm. "No," she replied, her tone cool. "He's the head of another department."

  "And that is?" the boy pressed.

  "Classified," Valentina replied, a faint smile tugging at her lips. She knew how to play the game just as well as he did.

  The boy's patience was wearing thin. "So tell me what you want," he said, his annoyance now evident in his voice.

  "Before that, I heard about your new Enigmasphere," he said, his eyes flicking to the glass in his hand. "You only gave it to the heads and released a beta for the public. Isn't that a bit... selective?"

  "That's for another time," she replied, brushing off her attempt to steer the conversation.

  "Just tell me what you want." He finally says already growing in annoyance

  Valentina's demeanor shifted slightly. She leaned in closer, her voice dropping to a whisper. "I just want the light."

  The boy's expression remained impassive, but his eyes narrowed. "What does that have to do with anything?"

  Suddenly, the lights in the grand hall flickered once, then went out completely.

  "and i was thinking of another" the boy says slowly.

  A murmur of confusion rippled through the crowd. Valentina's lips barely moved as she muttered to herself, "I'll need a vacation in another city soon."

  The champagne in the boy's glass began to shimmer, droplets rising up from the liquid.

  "Its sad most of you have bad attachment skills, bad for you, extremly positive for me."

  "There's water in champagne right?"

  Valentina's eyes glinted in the darkened room, watching as the water from the champagne snaked through the air and entered the boy's mouth in a swift, fluid motion.

  There was a sharp shriek as the boy collapsed to the floor, clutching his throat.

  "SIR! SIR! Please, someone help, there's something in the drink!" Valentina screamed, her voice filled with panic, but her eyes betrayed her satisfaction.

  The room erupted into chaos.

  People swarmed around the boy, who lay still on the ground.

  A man nearby screamed, "Archbishop Azarias!" before fainting dead away, overwhelmed by the shock of the moment.

  Guards rushed in from the massive double doors at the far end of the room, storming through the crowd. "You! Come here!" one of the guards barked at Valentina, grabbing her arm as she knelt by the boy's side. "What happened?" he demanded.

  "I-I don't know!" Valentina stammered, feigning ignorance.

  But before the situation could escalate further, the boy stirred. His body, lifeless just moments before, moved with an eerie fluidity.

  He stood up slowly, dusting himself off as if nothing had happened. The room fell silent, every eye on him.

  "Ah, nothing really," he said casually, as if he had merely tripped.

  "Just that I do have a reasonably good attachment skill. I mean, compared to yours." He smiled at Valentina, who was now visibly shaken.

  "How...how are you still alive?" she whispered, her voice trembling.

  "Oh, just a little help from Transmuter" the boy replied, grinning.

  The crowd, which had been paralyzed with fear, began to murmur again. The man who had fainted earlier slowly regained consciousness, muttering, "Ah, finally..."

  The boy walked toward Valentina, pushing through the remnants of the crowd, his eyes locked on hers.

  The guards were already securing her hands behind her back with cuffs.

  "Take her to the lower district," the boy ordered the guards, his tone now cold and authoritative. "She's danger- useful."

  As the guards began to escort Valentina away, she looked back at him, her face a mixture of fear and disbelief. "How are you still alive?" she asked again, her voice more frantic this time.

  The boy stopped, turning to face her one last time. "Oh, just Transmuter, as I said. It's an amazing manifestation. Really quite useful. You might want to look into it...if you make it out of there."

  Valentina's eyes widened as the realization set in. "Then your story skill—"

  "Yes," the boy interrupted, his voice now dangerously low. "I suggest you keep quiet about this. Hope the Church doesn't hear...but they will, eventually." He smirked, his gaze unwavering as Valentina was dragged outside the lavish room.

  "also their is water in Champagne, you already know that but. its 85%-90." he finally says walking back to the group of people he was talking to mere moments as if his life wasn't on thin line a minute ago.